Are We There Yet?

Are We There Yet?

A Tale of Jabba the Hutt and Slave Leia

Written by Dalek657 and Baron Hutt

The sand was growing hotter and hotter as the twin suns grew higher in the sky, and only a huge, passing shadow, thronged by several smaller ones, gave a brief delay to the temperature.

The shadow was headed for the Dune Sea, and in particular, to the Pit of Carkoon, where the massive subterranean creature known as the Sarlaac nested, keeping its toothy, tentacled palate upturned to the sky, waiting for any unlucky desert-dweller to come tumbling down to their fate—and the Sarlaac's own fodder.

The shadow came from a massive, metal-hulled Sail Barge, and surrounding it were several land skiffs, each carrying a small cluster of spectators…except for one, rather crowded, where two men and a shaggy Wookie remained with their arms shackled at their waists.

Aboard the Sail Barge, Princess Leia shuddered and retched, but somehow managed to keep the squirming feeling in her gorge down—which was even more nauseating to think about than the actual cause of the squirming feeling itself.

She was weak on her feet, even as she leaned against the soft, cushioned mass she’d been held so closely to for the past several minutes. She coughed again; the gold frames of her slave outfit’s bikini cups caught the dim lights above and cast flickers of glare into her eyes with the bounce of her breasts. The powerful grip on her exposed midsection lightened, and she started to slowly push herself away from the mass before her.

The mass itself was Jabba, a vile Huttese gangster who had reclaimed debts owed to him by Leia's lover and friends in the worst possible ways: for the past several days, he'd kept her chained by her neck and half-naked by his side, molesting her and grooming her to be his latest pleasure-slave.

He cooed something in his booming, thickly-phlegmy voice, then licked his lips, the wet slurps and squelches making Leia's skin crawl even after all she'd been through. She listened carefully and waited for him to finish, knowing one word could redefine an entire sentence when it came to Huttese; he ultimately said, “Did you enjoy eating that frog, my pretty?”

Leia didn't answer him, but she realized then that the squirming had stopped. Jabba had been right: humans could digest the things very easily. That little bit of info had made the wet, violently thrashing, and unspeakably terrified-sounding struggle she’d had to go through no less disgusting, however, and she shuddered again, trying to use one of Luke’s mind-clearing techniques to not think too much about it. Still, it was over—that was all that mattered.

Leia started to pull away, but Jabba tugged back on her chain, his chunky bicep squashing up as he moved it past the doughy roll above it that constituted as his “shoulder,” and Leia’s lips parted, baring her teeth as she let him pull her half-naked body back up against his slimy bulk until the fronts of her breasts shoved into the thick rolls massed beneath his slime-dribbling jaw. His big, chain-wielding hand slid shamelessly over her lower back and onto her backside, holding her in place.

“Da eitha," he purred, his breath rank and hot and disturbingly humid upon her face. Suppressing a sigh, Leia averted her gaze and obeyed his command, willingly shoving her pelvis closer to his belly in a manner and position most uncouth for a lady, much less a Princess.

"Disobey me, slave, and you will learn your place," Jabba said, his thick rolls squishing and rubbing horribly over her breasts. "Obey me, and you shall be rewarded..." There was a faint maneuvering of cloth against her leg as his hand slipped past her skirt.

Leia tensed, then forced herself to relax. No amount of repetition had or would ever prepare her for the unwelcome sensations and feelings that came with his probing fingers; as usual, she cleared her mind and focused on something--anything--that could fill her thoughts.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly and evenly as Jabba began.

* * *

The trip to the Pit of Carkoon was not to be one of spectacle or scrutiny, but rather quite another intent; for those three shackled prisoners were infiltrators and troublemakers; they had crossed (and in one case, double-crossed) Jabba, and he was going to see to their execution by the Sarlaac.

Han Solo had been a former pirate and smuggler, and had dealt with Jabba numerous times; he’d owed an increasing debt to the Hutt, and after numerous false promises of payback, he’d fallen in with the Rebellion and somehow thought that that would’ve given him some kind of diplomatic immunity.

But alas, this “ultimate smuggler” had been caught by the Empire and encased in Carbonite; apparently, this had just been a test to see if the same effect could be reproduced on another Rebel named Luke Skywalker, a Jedi knight whom had fallen in league with Han. A Carbon-frozen Han had meanwhile been brought to Jabba on a bounty, and had for a time made a nice piece of artwork in his gallery. The Wookie, known as Chewbacca, had been an accomplice to both of them, and had been part of a rescue mission to break Han out of Jabba’s mighty Palace. Now, however, they were all now on one of the land skiffs, approaching their imminent deaths.

Luke and Chewie were not alone in the rescue attempt, however. Jabba had discovered another Rebel in their midst—caught right in the process of unfreezing Han, in fact; but when the mask had been removed, the would-be hero was revealed to be Princess Leia Organa, the last surviving member of the royal family of Alderaan, a key member of the Rebellion (and thus of particular interest to the Empire)…and Solo's lover.

Jabba found Leia's capture to be far more than a worthwhile bounty--for he had another use in mind for her...

Jabba’s perverse taste for human (or at least humanoid) women was well-known to, and the subject of much gossip and distaste among, his fellows and peers. Anyone who had ever set foot in his Palace knew of the things he did to the women that he kept chained and collared by his side. So it was little wonder to any of his visitors over the past few days as to why he took extra delight in processing his latest captive.

That night, Jabba had wasted no time in taking advantage of the very fact that Leia was wearing a disguise. He stripped her of both her clothes and her dignity, chaining her by her neck to his side and forcing her into a most degrading sex slave's outfit, a very skimpy two-piece outfit that left no room for concealed weapons--nor for his perverse cronies' imaginations.

That night and over the following days, Jabba exploited Leia through cruel acts of debauchery and domination. He used the chain to overpower her into reluctantly pressing her half-naked body against his repeatedly, eventually using her conditioned response as a convenience to express his disgusting lechery through his hands, tongue, and tail.

Leia was not so easily conquered, however. In the face of all of Jabba's repulsive and spiteful actions, she had managed to keep her will intact. How else to battle such a foe than to make him believe he was winning? To string him along, Leia began to begrudgingly obey his command for her to call him Master, which delighted him to no end. His actions became mercifully less intense, but she still had to spend all of her time chained by her neck by his side, moving to his every beck and call, and occasionally forcing her body to respond as the foul Hutt desired. She knew that she was in full control of her actions, and it made her captivity only somewhat more tolerable.

When Luke had finally arrived a few days later, Leia was horrified when Jabba had dropped the Jedi into a hidden trapdoor before his throne. Luke had done battle with a massive monster which had nearly eaten him alive, but he'd unleashed his amazing skills and defeated the beast. Furious, Jabba sentenced Luke, Han, and Chewie to death in the belly of the mighty desert-dwelling entity, the Sarlaac.

Leia took pride in the fact that she had withstood succumbing to Jabba's ways, but that strength had been borne solely from her hope and pride in her friends; with their capture, she could only sit by and hope for some kind of miraculous escape...for if they were to perish, she wasn't sure she would be able to hold out for much longer.

And even now, not even halfway across the massive Dune Sea, Leia gasped and whimpered as she once again felt her body responding to the Hutt's advances...

* * *

After they were finished, Jabba called a guard over.

Her heart still racing inside her heaving chest, Leia turned her head and squinted through sweat-stung eyes at the Gamorrean guard that stopped at the base of the throne. Through a series of grunts, the pig-faced guard asked, "What are your wishes, my lord?”

“Bring my slave a drink." Jabba said. Leia turned to the Hutt; she then gasped as he clumsily removed his fingers from her. She shuddered, then shuddered again as the Hutt licked the side of her face.

"As you wish, my lord,” replied the guard, sounding slightly confused as he turned and lumbered away.

"Why are you giving me a drink?" Leia asked, confused and more than a little disturbed at the thought of where this might be headed. Thinking quickly, she added, "Master?"

"You deserve one,” Jabba said.

“One what? Master?” Leia asked in a tiny voice.

“A drink to go with your meal. That...was a reminder of the pleasures I will give you, should you continue to obey me like a good little slave."

Suddenly, a thought entered her mind…and it wasn’t her own. It was the second time that day that she’d heard that voice so close in her head; it was that of Luke, somewhere outside, on one of the skiffs. Don’t worry, he “said.” I’ve taken care of everything. Leia questioned both the message and his casual, confident tone most highly; how could he have taken care of anything, much less “everything?” He had been caught! Chewie was being held captive, for Force’s sake! And Han—

Tears stung Leia’s eyes, and she cast her eyes down.

Just stay alive, Luke’s voice said.

Leia took a deep breath. At this point, staying alive was her only choice.

After a moment, she gingerly twisted herself away from Jabba’s bulk—he wasn’t holding her any longer, but she didn’t want to make a big show of enjoying the freedom of having space between their bodies—and she made a subtle effort of using her front skirt to pat down her still-moist loins. Jabba chuckled wetly, then looked up.

“Forgive me,” the guard squealed as he came hobbling back to the throne, holding a tall, green-glass goblet, thedark red of the Hutt’s favorite wine splashing around with the guard’s unsteady stride and grip.

Leia had been allowed to sit down before Jabba—he preferred her to lie back against him, no doubt so he could keep both a voyeuristic and a watchful eye upon her—but was managing to keep straight up, so only the small of her back came in contact with Jabba’s filthy flesh. From here, she couldn’t yet see the goblet, for the guard’s porcine features were only just visible above the wooden armrest and illuminated foodbowl that Jabba slumped against. A frog swam by in that bowl, and Leia shivered and looked away.

“What?” Jabba asked, and the clink of metal upon metal made Leia’s gaze snap to herside; the chain wasn’t taut, but Jabba had pulled on it just the same. She had begun to learn the various subtle nuances of when the Hutt yanked on it; she had had enough of being caught off-guard and painfully choked by the collar. Though she despised the image it no doubt created in many a perverse mind—one of obedience, even enthusiasm—she’d far sooner willingly press herself up against Jabba and get the shameful task over with, rather than be subjected to a series of painful asphyxiations first.

“I’m sorry,” the guard repeated, and hefted the goblet (which Leia did now see). Jabba reached over the armrest and took it.

“What for?”

“One of the new droids is still training with EV-9D9,” the guard replied. “It’s fine with pouring wine from the caskets, but when I asked it to make a drink for you, it didn’t seem to know what it was doing.”

Leia sighed a small breath of relief at this. She had to wonder just which droid was doing this, and if it deserved a reward…if she ever got out of here.

Jabba said nothing.

“I…I had him pour you some wine,” the guard added.

“Fine,” Jabba finally said. Leia couldn’t see his face, and didn’t dare volunteer his attention by turning to look back at him, but she could tell he was annoyed. Behind and above her, Leia heard the loud slurping sounds of his tongue as he drank from the goblet, then felt the vibration of his belly as the liquid passed through his innards.

There was another clink of the chain, and Leia turned to see Jabba looking directly down at her. He licked his lips,sending little droplets of slime (some discolored with the dark of the wine) tumbling down his chins. “Da eitha,” he said, and uttered a loud, glugging belch.

In addition to becoming accustomed to Jabba's ways (to say nothing or getting used to the repeated molestations and rapings he’d subjected her to), Leia had begun to understand most of his Huttese commands and phrases. “Da eitha” meant "come here," but the Hutt had taught her that when he said this, he wanted her to assume a position that he called "shag drapesh," or quite literally, "the slave's embrace."

Rising to her feet, Leia turned fully to the Hutt and stepped forward, feeling the front of his belly press against her boots and bare legs. Shuffling her feet apart, she shoved her lower body closely to his own, then pressed her hands to his belly’s upper slope, feeling the warm, greasy, unclean flesh squish and spread against her tightened stomach muscles, all the way up to her barely-covered breasts. She kept her neck straight up, and even craned back slightly; he could easily “kiss” her at this proximity, but a little trick she’d learned was to turn her head away as he licked her neck—the quicker he may finish the lick and remove his tongue from her skin.

Jabba lifted the goblet and drank from it again, puffs of rank breath, cloudy with wine, welling over Leia, stinging her nostrils and making her let her own breath out and turn her own head away. There was a wet sound, and Leia closed her eyes, and indeed, Jabba began to kiss her, right on schedule, his long tongue warm and firm and so, so sticky. It pulled at the skin of her cheek and lip as it slithered and slopped side to side, up and down, the tip narrowing into a blunt point as it curled away from her face, little sticky wet strings of saliva stretching between tongue and skin as it was withdrawn back into his huge maw. Leia let out the rest of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and turned back to face him, loathsomely anticipating what would surely come next.

Jabba took another big gulp of the wine, then licked his lips.

Leia watched him move the goblet away, frowning slightly.

“You may speak,” Jabba said, and several tiny droplets of slime splattered Leia’s upper chest. “You obviously wish to.”

“Are…”Leia asked, wanting, hoping, praying that he was going to give her a break for once. “Are you…thirsty? Master?” She added this last word quickly, hoping it helped reassure him of his power over her.

“I am!” Jabba said, and took one last swig of the wine. He twisted to the side, his thick rolls of flesh squashing grotesquely against—and around—Leia’s breasts as he raised the goblet, then proceeded to hammer its reinforced base on his worn armrest.

Nearby (Leia glanced and saw), the guard perked up and shuffled over. Bib Fortuna, Jabba’s Twi’Lek majordomo, stopped the guard and hissed something at him, his red eyes narrowing. The guard shrugged the Twi’Lek off, then continued, and Leia saw Bib glaring after him. Some kind of tension had come up between Jabba and Bib inthe past couple of days, and Bib had been working hard on being as cooperative as possible with Jabba—but the Hutt hardly gave Bib any opportunities to show it.

Jabba asked the guard if the drink droid was ready, and the guard said he wasn’t sure. Jabba told him to get him more wine, and then to check if the droid was worth keeping or not. The guard quickly bowed, took the goblet, then left.

Jabba turned back to Leia.

“Are you thirsty?” he asked mockingly.

“I…”Leia had to admit she was feeling a bit peckish, though she was very reluctant to tell him so. Sharing meals with the Hutt was…rather messy; he usually wound up using her as a human trough, and as if that was not enough humiliation, he frequently ended up taking her after, her body still covered in scraps and slops of food. Still, she might not get another chance to eat for some time—who knew what would happen if Luke’s “plan” worked out? And if not…if the worst happened… “I could use some food and drink,” Leia murmured reluctantly.

Jabba’s lips tightened, and his wide, dripping nostrils flared as he let out a grumbling breath, his belly vibrating against Leia's. “Hmmh.” His huge eyes moved from Leia and cast around the main lounge.

“Ooaahh,” Jabba cooed, then pointed past Leia. She turned, not quite sure who or what he was gesturing at in the crowded space.

“Let’s see if they can be of assistance,”Jabba said, and working the controls to his throne (which also served as a harness for a series of powerful repulsorlift coils), he moved them both further into the room, bumping guests and servants and guards aside, and stopped at a small table, where three sets of eyes turned to see what the great Jabba the Hutt wanted.

Jabba released Leia as he nodded (if the action of rocking his massive upper body forward could be called a nod) at the table. Leia pulled away slowly, but stayed right by Jabba’s side, feeling his chain hand lower and press against her backside. The cold metal links made her skin become bumpy, but she suppressed a shiver as she looked over the three guests.

The Rodian sitting in the middle of the table chattered something in a language Leia didn’t understand, and was quickly elbowed by one of the two human fellows, the one on the right, to which he added another nasal word.

“I would like you to do something,”Jabba said. He pointed down. Leia glanced over the table. Amidst the scattered card game they had been playing were roughly-torn, stale-looking biscuit loaves and a few buttered roots and olives, as well as several half- or almost-completely-empty glasses. Leia’s lips parted as she glanced this over—and suddenly understood, even before Jabba spoke.

“You’ll let her feed on some morsels. As you know, Porcellus isn’t cooking anymore—“

The Rodian nodded, and the human one grinned. The human on the left grunted something, but Leia didn’t catch it. Whatever it was, Jabba found it hilarious, and his short, chubby arms lifted as he rocked back and forth, the clinks of Leia’s chain hiding most of the sounds of his fatty rolls as they squished and farted grossly. “Indeed,” Jabba agreed. “Not yet.”

The other two snickered.

“So you will feed her, but you all know well enough to keep your hands off of her,” Jabba said. “Make sure she—”

He suddenly broke off.

Leia, frowning, turned to him, then saw he was staring at some other point, elsewhere in the lounge. She followed his gaze.

Bib was standing nearby, staring expressionlessly at his superior.

Jabba licked his lips.

“Make sure she gets her fill.”

There was a sudden, fleshy clap, and Leia staggered forward, only then yelping as she felt the full impact of Jabba’s hand upon her barely-covered backside.

The three guests chuckled, and Leia glared at them.

“Well, you heard him,” the human on the right said. “Join us.”

Leia was suddenly very reluctant to leave the throne, but she reminded herself of Luke’s words. Just stay alive.

Taking a deep breath, Leia moved away from Jabba. He loosened his grip on the chain, then simply dropped it soit noisily clattered onto the top of his throne. Glancing curiously back at him, she saw his gaze shift from her face to her body and back before turning fully to Bib, who had then come closer to the throne.

Leia half-climbed, half-jumped off the throne, landing just beside Bib. The two exchanged uneasy glances before they went their opposite ways.

Leia slowly moved near the table, saw an overturned chair.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Princess,” the human on the right said. “Let me get that for you, Princess.” The Rodian laughed as the human, despite his mocking tone, reached over and dragged the chair into an upright position and pushed it towards Leia.

“Th…thanks,” Leia said, trying a diplomatic approach. “I appreciate it.”

The man on the left muttered something. The Rodian commented. The right man said back, “They say you’d better. Jabba doesn’t give breaks to just anyone.”

“Well then I’m touched,” Leia said, then told herself to calm down. This was no time to get petty. She pulled her two skirts—designed to only cover the centermost of the front and rear of her lower body—as straight as they could go, then slowly seated herself.

“I’m Anther,” the man on the right said, hooking a thumb at his chest. He did the same to the other two.

“This is Nidhog and Forch.”

Leia glanced from one set of eyes to another, keeping the movement quick. She nodded to all of them.

Forch, the other human, nodded at the table and said something. “He said eat,” Anther said.

“Friends of Jabba’s?” Leia asked, reaching for one of the loaves of bread. She tore off a piece and popped it. It was salty and even staler than it looked, but it was something.

“You know business,” Anther said. Nidhog chattered something. “Runners, is what we are,” Anther translated.

“Business as usual,” Leia said, not sure of what else to say, and even less so about even talking to these so-called runners. She was sitting with them for one purpose: eating. So she tucked in and kept at it.

Forch said something. “Are you cold in that thing?” Anther asked.

Leia chewed and swallowed another mouthful of bread. “Sometimes.”

Forch leaned in and didn’t even try to hide his wandering eyes as he spoke, his voice softer than his looks would imply, a rather pleasant croon to it really. Then: “So do you feel comfortable in that? Or is it painful on your skin?”

Leia turned from Anther when the translation was done and said to Forch, “It can leave marks. Metal bands, you know.”

Forch grinned and whispered something. Nidhog commented, then all three laughed. Anther didn’t translate this, and Leia didn’t care.

Leia helped herself to some of the olives. Very salty, and they even stung her palate a little, but they had been pitted, and were very satisfying after she had a couple.

“Do you have to take it off for him every time?” Forch asked through Anther, and Anther’s hand pointed left-right-left, then down. Leia instinctively pressed her hand over her exposed mid-chest. “I…don’t know if I’m comfortable talking about this.”

“Fair enough,” Anther said. “Jabba wants you to eat, not talk, anyway!”

And so Leia ate. As she did, Nidhog spoke at length. He paused every few sentences to let Anther catch up with him for Leia’s Basic translation. “The girl before you—” and Leia knew to whom he was referring, a beautiful, lime-colored Twi’Lek named Oola; Force knew she’d heard enough comparisons when she had been first taken into the Dancer Pit to be dressed after Jabba’s initial time with her, “—she was hard for Jabba to keep. Struggled a lot, made him mad, even insulted him once or twice.’ Fun to watch after hours though.” This last part appeared to be Anther’s own comment, for he gained a toothy grin as he spoke it. “You’re a real change of pace for Jabba. He likes how you’ve come along, and I have to admit,” and here Anther pointed at Nidhog, who in turn pointed at himself as he continued, “It’s been a lot more interesting with you on the throne, because there’s actually something going on.”

Leia finished the last of what had become her loaf of bread, leaving the other loaf alone.

“What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly curious.

“For once, I might add,” Anther said.

There was a metallic jangle, and Leia turned back to see the chain was a taut, zigzagging line leading straight from her lower center of vision, up through the air…and straight back to Jabba. He gestured from his vantage point, but said nothing.

There were a few snickers from around the table, and Leia glanced back at her temporary company. Then her chain tightened, and Leia turned back to Jabba and climbed back up his throne.

“Did you have your fill?” Jabba asked as Leia pressed herself back into Jabba's embrace. His goblet was back in his hand—and it was already half-empty. It was only then that Leia realized that Bib wasn’t there any longer.

Leia nodded in response to Jabba’s question. Indeed, she had become rather full; not just of food, but also questions.

Jabba licked his lips. “Well, I’m still hungry,” he declared. “Fetch me something.” It took Leia a long moment to realize that he was talking to her.

Leia couldn't figure out how the Hutt was still hungry, but nonetheless she took a look around to see what other food she could find for Jabba.

Nearby, the bread was still on the table below, but that would be too dry for a Hutt. Leia glanced around, saw the frog tank--and quickly turned away again. What else? Then her eyes fixed on something on another table, a little farther away, and she bit her lip.

How to get there?

Leia looked at Jabba. With her hand she pointed to what she was looking at. Gazing into the Hutt’s eyes, Leia ventured to speak freely. "If you allow me just enough slack to do so…er, Master,” she added this for good measure, “I think I can reach some food for you.”

Jabba glanced at Leia, probably debating if this was some kind of a trick, but he must have decided it wasn't, for he wordlessly pulled some of the chain's long slack over the huge hump of the base of his tail and dropped it before him. He gestured for her to make haste. Leia curtsied slightly, and only as she turned to jump off the throne did she ask herself, What am I doing?

Jabba had only told her to “fetch” him something; he hadn’t told her what, from where, or from whom; yet she had volunteered to pick up the bowl of the most familiar-looking thing in the closest proximity. Why was she suddenly being so…cooperative? Think of the alternative, she reminded herself; feeling a little better about it, Leia turned back to Jabba, to see if the Hutt had any thoughts on the matter, including her delay. He apparently didn’t. He wasn’t even looking at her.

Leia pursed her lips, then jumped off the edge of the throne. The chain clinked noisily on the hard stone, and rattled noisily as she walked, dragging the links off the edge. She went to the table and reached for the bowl. It was wide, oval-shaped green bowl, half-filled with the pale, glistening mass of its contents. Leia immediately felt a pang of regret that this is what she had chosen to retrieve, but she couldn’t start walking around to other tables now; Jabba would probably think she was trying to slip away. Not that that would be a bad thing, Leia thought, but then she knew what would happen if she were caught. She sighed, glanced around—

“It’s free of fierfek, if that’s what you’re wondering,” came a voice.

Leia jumped and turned.

A tall, heavyset man was standing nearby.

“Wh-what?” Leia asked.

The man nodded at the bowl. “Fierfek. Poison. I wouldn’t try to do that here, though.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re looking at that bowl like it’s your only hope.”

Leia, having grown weary of conversation with Jabba’s cronies, shook her head. “What if I’m just hungry?”

“What if I’m not as dumb as I look?” the man said. “I saw you eating with those men earlier.”

“Fair enough,” Leia said. “Jabba’s the one who’s hungry. He told me to fetch him something, so…”

The man crossed his arms over his chest.

“So you’re hoping to spike that and—?”

“No!” Leia said, perhaps a little too quickly. “No, but I can’t say that’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“And I’m telling you, that’s an invitation for trouble, thinking like that.”

Leia now also crossed her arms over her chest. She glanced back at Jabba. He was talking to the guard again. She turned back to the man. “So who are you? Jabba’s keeper?”

“Him? No,” the man said, glancing past her. His gaze lingered a long moment at the Hutt, and Leia saw some kind of darkness pass over his features before he turned back to her. “No, I work for him. That’s all.”

“Not exactly a fan, then?”

“You could say that.” He inclined his head slightly. “Brudon.”

She hesitated a moment. “Leia.”

“I know.”

“Figures. Everyone else does.”

“Well you are Princess Leia. Kind of hard to hide something like that.”

Especially with Jabba making a big show of it when he caught me, she thought.

“So, Brudon, I hope you’re not expecting something in return for this bowl, because honestly, I’m really not in a bargaining position.”

“I should say not,” he said. “Go on, take it. Before he gets mad at you.”

“Thanks,” Leia said. She reached for the bowl, then paused, fingers just touching the rim. “This…this was nice.”

Brudon frowned. “What was?”

“Talking.” Leia picked up the bowl. “I don’t get to do that a lot. Today has been like a throwback to my diplomatic days in comparison to—”

“Da eitha!” Jabba shouted, and Leia turned to see him gathering up her chain.

She sighed and turned back to Brudon.

“I…I hope it all works out for you,” Leia said. “Whatever he’s done…I hope you find justice.”

Brudon’s face tightened into a frown, but in the second before she turned away, Leia could see the pain behind it.

“And you as well, Princess.”

She glanced back as she approached the throne.

Brudon was nodding. “You as well.”

Jabba had gathered most of the slack he’d given Leia and thrown it back over his tail by the time she came to him. She almost assumed the slave's embrace, but stopped when the Hutt pointed at the bowl. “Lots of fierfek, I hope?” he said.

Leia froze. “What?”

“HO-HO-Ho-ha-ha-ha,” Jabba laughed, his doughy rolls jiggling wetly, “HAH-Hah-hah-hah-hyeaaiiighhh…” Though it was apparently a joke, Leia still had a bad feeling about this.

He licked his lips and slipped a chunky arm round Leia’s bare waist, shoving her breasts into the folds of his slime-dribbled rolls with a series of noisy squishes. Leia, caught off-guard by both his comment and his sudden embrace, had been in an unprepared position that could only yield her so much balance before, so she actually spread her legs, feeling the belly-fat swell between them, taking some of her frontal skirt along as the flesh squishing against her inner thighs.

"What have you brought me?” Jabba asked, glancing at the bowl, which Leia only then remembered, her upper body twisted to the side so both hands could continue to grip the dish.

“Uh…” Leia had recognized it, even from the distance it had been at before, but couldn’t for the life of her remember what it was called. Jabba had fed it to her on several occasions (in the middle of sloppily gorging it himself); it was some kind of pudding, with thick lumps of grain or pasta in it. It had been a cold dish, with not much flavor (that the human palate could discern, anyway), but it had been plenty filling. Leia hefted the bowl, showed it to Jabba.

“Oooaaah,” he groaned in approval.

Leia put on her best smile and passed the bowl to Jabba, whose arms lifted, then pulled back, likely in an effort to figure how to take it from her in this position. He lowered his arms slowly then.

“Let’s feed,” he said.

Leia frowned, feeling herself tense. This was exactly what she’d feared. He’d make a mess while handing her handfuls of the slop, spilling it all over her, and then he’d want to “clean it up,” and then he’d—

Jabba, ever the questionably psychic Hutt, licked his lips. “Not you. Feed me.”

Leia’s frown deepened.

Feed…him?

“Unless,” he added, and licked Leia’s face, “you’re still hungry, in which case we can share…”

“No,” Leia said, perhaps too insistently, then recovered her composure by adding, “I…I got this for you.” Jabba made a sound somewhere between a contented purr and an impatient growl, but either way, it chilled Leia.

With tense, clumsy movements, she hefted the bowl closer to herself. The lumpy pudding jiggled slightly, its surface seeming to have faded just a little, perhaps with a slight film, no doubt from being exposed to the air for so long. Leia held the bowl closely to her chest (feeling her skin raise into bumps where the cold moisture of the container touched her bare upper abdomen and soaked through part of a bikini cup), and lowered her other hand inside. The pudding was a little thicker than Leia remembered—but then, those times she had been practically swimming in the stuff, so it was hard to tell—and very, very cold. Would that matter to Jabba? Probably not. As she scooped out a big handful (keeping her palm and fingers cupped into a long spade shape), there was a loud, wet sucking sound and a slight rush of air. She turned to find that a wide cave of toothless green gums had opened; it was filled with stalactites of runny, mucoid saliva, and a veritable puddle of the stuff ran along the bottom, and his tongue, a long, wide worm, twisted and squirmed in that puddle, waiting, just waiting, for the chance to stretch out into the air. Flinching and holding what little breath was in her lungs, Leia gingerly moved her pudding-hand into Jabba’s mouth, tipped it over, and let gravity take most of it into the Hutt’s waiting maw. Jabba’s tongue slopped up, and Leia removed her hand, and she watched with disgust as that tongue slurped at the stuff, and it disappeared as he swallowed, his gelatinous rolls jiggling against Leia’s body and making her feel so disgusted. What was worse, he did all of this with his lips still wide open…and Leia had only just begun the feeding.

Taking up another scoop of the pudding, Leia deposited it, and once again, he slurped it down, open-mouthed. She grabbed another handful. Maybe this’ll be quick, she thought to herself, and suddenly found herself thinking of her friends. How much longer was the trip? They’d been traveling for hours already. Surely it couldn’t be much longer. And then what? What was Luke’s plan, anyway?

Upon her fourth or fifth scoop, Jabba closed his lips hard around Leia’s forearm, and she gasped—a massive creature was biting her hand, after all—but between the lack of teeth and the soft texture of his lips, it was only a wet clamp of rubbery pressure on her wrist. Painless though it was, Leia was still disgusted, and groaned a little as she slipped her hand out, now colorful with saliva and pudding. She turned her hand over to inspect how much had gotten on it when Jabba’s lips, unseen just inches beyond, parted—and he licked at her hand with a gleeful moan.

Leia glared at the Hutt. Jabba, knowing exactly what she was thinking, said in a wet voice, “More.”

It only got messier.

Moments later, Jabba tried to lick Leia’s face, his breath heavy with the odor of the ingested slop, but Leia had craned her neck back, then made a show of adjusting her ponytail. She must have accidentally pulled away from Jabba then, for a moment later he slipped his hand down Leia’s backside and right under her skirt.

“More,” he said, his voice thick with his latest helping. Perhaps it was a distraction from his groping hand; even if not, it worked.

As Leia reached into the bowl, which was now very nearly empty, Jabba suddenly and rather painfully squeezed her buttock, and Leia gasped—and lost her grip on the slick bowl. It upended suddenly, its open side facing the air beside her, and Leia’s heart froze at the thought of it spilling—and all that such an action may entail—and twisting to grab at it with both arms, she hugged it closer…and it turned fully around and clapped wholly against her chest, spilling its remaining contents right upon her.

Leia’s eyes popped wide and she glanced at Jabba, and damn if he wasn’t grinning at her.

Jabba reached up with his chain-wielding hand, grabbed the bowl, and shoved it downward. Leia lost her grip instantly, and the bowl cluttered noisily to the top of the throne before rolling on its side and dropping off the edge, where it cracked upon the hard metal floor.

The bowl’s remaining contents were quickly attended to by small rodents and tidying Jawa servants, and the broken chunks of bowl were later decided by one of the guests to be redeemable. It was nicely reassembled by the time the Sail Barge reached the Pit of Carkoon, and would have made a fine mark in trades if it weren’t for the massive explosion which would demolish the entire craft, bowl and all, later that day.

Leia was not aware of the bowl’s journey, however; for right after he had dislodged it from her arms, Jabba fumbled beneath her armpits, one after the other, to undo the straps to her pudding-splattered top. Leia was in too much embarrassed disgust to stop him; it had been her fault, all of it, from volunteering to get the Jabba food to choosing this particular meal, right up through her shrewd reaction to the Hutt’s busy hands which resulted in her clumsy spill—and an invitation for him to feed right off of her sloppy body.

Jabba was ravenous this time, his tongue rougher upon her breasts, causing her nipples to harden so quickly. Leia moaned—she couldn’t help it—and twisted her head away, blushing and hating herself and groaning as her body wholly reacted to Jabba’s tongue, all at once.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Jabba ordered a servant to get her top cleaned up, so that she may “look pretty for the show.” Leia's heaving breasts were clean of the pudding at that point, though covered with his thick saliva; she hadn’t noticed this, and didn’t care to find out. Leia felt Jabba’s tail brush up between her thighs after a few minutes; as the Hutt took her, Leia found it hard to concentrate on her friends’ imminent deaths; the pleasures the Hutt was forcing through her, and the shame of what she had done to bring that about, were too great.

Leia came hard, and as she wound down, she grew spiteful at the realization that she had embodied the very definition of "a good little slave." After, Jabba rewarded with a slop-kiss and the return of her freshly-cleaned bikini top.

A little later, an announcement was made over the Sail Barge’s intercom; they were halfway to the Pit of Carkoon. Shortly after, Jabba ordered Leia to dance for him. The Max Reebo Band played a colorful tune, casually paced but with enough of a step to its tempo that Leia’s recently learned moves were able to keep up quite nicely as she twisted and writhed near the end of the throne, by his coiled, slithering tail. She really put some emphasis on her pelvis at she swung it back and forth, “bumping” her almost-exposed backside at times in tune with some of the drum fills, much to Jabba’s approval. She liked dancing no more than when she had started her lessons a couple of weeks earlier—but she had to admit she was a lot better at it.

Once it was done, she turned back to Jabba and actually stared. He had another goblet of wine in his hand! How many had he had at this point? And then, more hopefully, she wondered just how much alcohol could a Hutt put away before he felt the effects? Hopefully not much more, she told herself. Leia suddenly realized that she had still not been given her own drink; perhaps—she hoped—Jabba had forgotten about delivering that little “reward.”

She could imagine his intent in giving her something to drink; subdue her, make her do unforgiveable things…and it wouldn’t be the first time. Drink up, she thought at the Hutt. See how you like losing consciousness. Her wish was a double-edged sword, however; after all, on one hand, she could hope that Jabba drank himself into a slumber…but if his previous bouts with having too much to drink were any indication, he might become rowdy, even violent, and that could make for some very unpleasant times as she “fulfilled her purpose.” Leia suppressed a shudder at the memories.

Jabba then yanked her chain, and she came to him and pressed herself into his arms. He positively reeked of wine. He upended the goblet over his lips and sloppily guzzled its contents, then belched; it was a horribly loud, wet, smelly affair that made Leia, even now, having come so far in becoming accustomed to his loathsome touch, turn away with a flinch. “Care to take a look?” Jabba said, gesturing past Leia.

She parted her lips, a half-formed question materializing and dying on her tongue as she turned to see what he was pointing at. Not a table, not a guest, but…what?

“Your friends,” Jabba said, and Leia froze and turned coldly back to him. “It’s your last chance. They’ll be gone soon, and you’ll know your place is with me.” He licked his lips, and Leia’s heart suddenly became very, very heavy. Of course, Jabba would say something like that; he wanted Leia to be scared, to lose hope and faith. It was no doubt a part of his enslavement process; breaking more than just the body and the will of his captives, but their very desires to do anything except obey. Leia removed one hand from Jabba’s belly and balled it into a fist by her side. We’ll see about that, she swore.

“Go on!” Jabba shouted, and suddenly planted a hand against Leia’s chest and pushed—hard. Leia was caught totally off-guard, and her arms swung wildly as she pitched backward. She yelped——then stopped, suddenly rocked forward, saw the chain for one glinting moment, taut in the air before Jabba’s retracting arm. Then the chain was snapping into a crazy, serpentine shape as it took Leia’s center of gravity in the opposite direction, and she pitched forward, landing against Jabba’s flesh face first. Then her knees painfully struck the throne as she fell upon them, and she fell on her side with a groan. Above her, Jabba was laughing.

Leia rolled onto her knees again and pushed herself up, glaring at the beast. Nearby, several spectators to this painful display of humiliation were laughing; Anther and Forch were among them. Leia felt tears sting her eyes once again, and she pushed herself up to her feet. Jabba kept laughing at her, but he made no move to gather the slack.

Leia turned and jumped off the throne and walked the short distance between the throne and the hull of the Sail Barge, moving past a few glimpsing guests as she made her way toward the windows. She peered out past the upturned panel, saw the golden desert and blue sky passing by, and sighed. She couldn’t even see anything. Behind her, Jabba was still laughing, but after a moment, he stopped. Then suddenly, there—a narrow, dark shape appeared. It was a land skiff; and there, on top, there was—a couple of guards.

Leia’s heart felt like it shriveled up and dropped out of her chest. For the first time since her capture, Leia felt she truly hated Jabba, and hated him with a passion. He’d molested her; raped her, made her call him Master…made her learn to press up against him if he yanked on her chain…and now he was taunting her by telling her she had one last chance to see her friends—before he killed them, she reminded herself with fire—and only then revealed that there was nothing to be seen. Leia bit her lip…and felt herself begin to cry.

It wasn’t fair; it was horribly, horribly unfair. How life, how the Force, could let such things—

She perked up with a sniffle.

There was another skiff.

There were several of them, she knew, as she’d gotten a glimpse around the hangar when Jabba was driving them both aboard the Sail Barge on his throne. But when she craned her neck and counted the seconds as it maneuvered around a dune, she became very, very still—for it was then that she saw a glimpse of white and black and—

“Han,” she whispered.

There they were. The three of them. And right before her eyes, Luke and Han leaned in towards each other, their mouths indiscernable but moving as they spoke to each other. What could they be talking about?

Leia smiled; she couldn’t help it—hell, she grinned, positively beamed when she realized that it was really them, that they were alive, well (it seemed), and—

Her smile faded.

Not for long, she realized. Not if Jabba has his way.

“Luke…” she whispered, and if he heard—or felt—her reaching out to him then, he didn’t comment.

Jabba said something in a low, gleeful voice, and the chain jingled. Leia ignored it, but a moment later the chain pulled slightly, and she turned and glared back at Jabba; still drunk, still drinking, he mumbled something and chuckled; if anything, the tug was an accident, and Leia turned back to the window.

It looked like Luke and Han were talking. Leia squinted; it was hard to see at this distance, some shifting hundred or so yards away; she parted her lips, and almost could discern Lando smirking about something that Luke had said, the confident swagger back on the smuggler's face; she wondered if he was still half-blind from the Carbonite freeze—

A hard, painful tug on Leia’s chain brought her back from the window with a choked, "Hunnnh!"

Leia staggered back, grabbing at the collar and twisting instinctively around to avoid being choked again. "Agh!" she grunted as she almost ran into someone, almost pitched facedown against the throne; she caught herself, took a big leap atop it with a sharp, "Ow!" She rose before Jabba, uttering a final, breathy "AH-huh!" as she straightened and pressed her half-naked body into his, her knees and pelvis dimpling the front of his big belly, her ponytail whipping round her bare shoulders to the side of her bosom, the wet squishing sound of pulpy, greasy, slime-dribbled and wine-slippery flesh repulsively loud as it pressed against her flesh, covered and uncovered alike. Uttering a final gasp, "Unh," Leia heard the clink of her chain as its slack dropped beside where her body now rested against the Hutt's.

It was only then did she realize what she had just done, even after all her impassioned awakening of hatred of the Hutt. All at once, she had obeyed him, exactly as he'd been training her to do - because it was what she, the good little slave that she was becoming, was supposed to do for her Master.

“Soon, my slave Leia...” Jabba said, his drunken voice slurring yet low with his venomous intent. She closed her eyes from the shameful feelings and the lecherous gaze that she felt on her chest, touching her exposed flesh wherever his sliminess did not, opening them only when she suddenly felt something touching her back—something rough and narrow and sharp somehow—and she realized suddenly that it was a hand. She dared not look to see to whom it belonged; she had a guess that Bib and Jabba had laid aside their differences, and that the majordomo was trying to be of assistance once again.

Jabba continued: "...you will learn..." Leia turned and saw that his goblet was once again full, and he held it closely to their faces in a shaky hand. Leia glared back at Jabba, then watched his mouth--fearful of the inevitable appearance of his tongue, and what it would mean for her--but instead, Jabba finished his slurred statement: "...to appreciate me."

Leia looked away. She'd heard enough.

Why, why, why? Why was she acting so weak? She hated Jabba; she knew that now. She knew that her friends were on their way to certain deaths, and even if they somehow miraculously made it—be it the work of Luke’s unknown plans or blind, dumb luck—they had been put into that situation by the very beast before her…and yet here she was, obliging his every command and acquiescing to his loathsome touch. Where did that leave her? What did that make her? If Luke somehow managed to stage some kind of surprise escape...did Leia even deserve to go with them at this point?

Jabba's huge, wrinkled eyelids narrowed, causing his irises to swell into dark pits, and then they shifted slightly to the right. Leia followed their gaze, saw they were looking at the goblet...which he began curiously tilting sideways--

“UNH--!" Leia barked as the first of the wine splashed onto her chest. She yelped again, louder, as the shock of the liquid, the action, the intent all overcame her, and Jabba began to laugh, his thick rolls jiggling around the fronts of her quickly-soaking breasts, the adipose flesh slapping and slobbering wetly.

Just then, there was a clatter of metal on metal from nearby, followed by the clatter of spilled dishes. There was a rise of familiar pairing of a voice and a series of beeps, but Leia couln’t pay any attention to the conversation that followed. She tried to push herself away, to arch her back and get her messy upper body away from Jabba's, but Bib’s hand pressed more firmly between her shoulder blades, shoving her wine-splattered breasts back into the thick folds of flesh before her; she flinched not so much at this as at the painful pinches of Bib's talons on her skin.

Before her, Jabba licked his lips…and then, twisting his huge tongue in the air, he licked the exposed, wine-wet upper slope of her heaving chest. Leia groaned in repulsion and tried to pull back again, and was again pushed closer with Bib’s painful claw. Jabba's chain-clutching hand lowered beside Leia's waist, and she felt the cold metal and his wide palm press against her half-covered buttocks, shoving her pelvis firmly against his belly, trapping her in a slave's embrace.

The Twi’Lek’s disquieting whisper from too-too-closely to her ear. "You would do best to let your Master have his way with you. He’s been more than accommodating for you today, Princess Leia.”

Leia suppressed a glare at Bib, partly to avoid any more trouble than she was getting and partly because Jabba’s tongue had narrowed into a long, dribbling cone that slid most grotesquely up and down between her bikini-clasped breasts. A whimpering “Nnhhh…” was the only sound Leia could make.

Bib inquired something, and Jabba’s huge head nodded, his chin-rolls crumbling wetly over the tops of Leia's breasts. Hot, rank air puffed straight from his throat, making Leia nauseous. She felt Bib’s other hand suddenly also on her back, off to the side…tickling as it crept and probed and felt and—“Ow!” –pinched its way beneath her armpit…finding where one of the crossed straps on her back was fastened to the gold bands that kept her top in place!

“No!” Leia hissed, reaching up to grab at Bib’s hand.

Then there was a pressure of something being pushed between Leia’s belly and Jabba’s, and before she could protest again, a powerful sensation as two long, fat digits slid up into her. Leia cried out…but felt the instant, unwanted moisture of gratification as Jabba spread his fingers inside her. She dropped her hand to his and grabbed it…but she didn’t make a move to remove it.

Leia gasped as she felt his fingers move. The tears, threatening for so long, finally came. Her body trembled as unwelcome sensations traveled through it. Jabba kept working…and by the power of the Force, she let him.

Bib undid one of her bikini's strap, then removed his hand from her back. She made no move to pull away. She didn’t try to stop Bib as he reached for the other strap and worked it loose. She just lowered her head, face contorted with whimpering sobs, as the gold-framed cups were lifted away from her wine-splattered breasts.

Jabba’s fingers narrowed and plunged deeper, and Leia's head darted up and she cried aloud…and felt herself spreading her thighs around his hand, then a hunk of his belly.

“What are you, Leia?” the Hutt suddenly asked her, and Leia grew very quiet.

He had asked her this before; several times, in fact. It was the first in a series of questions he’d ask her to show her loyalty to him, and Leia had learned how to get around them…but it was never easy. The first time she was confused, and in a world of disgust and pain and fear; she hadn’t known how to answer. The second and third times, she had been told what to say by fearful (and sometimes disturbingly confident) slaves in the Dancer Pit, but she had flat-out refused to repeat it to the Hutt. The fourth or…maybe up through the sixth times, she hadn’t answered, but hadn’t shouted her protests as she had before. In the past week and a half, however, she’d learned that sometimes, an answer was better than none, and so she’d started to say it. But when she said it now, she felt something loosen in her, something distressingly mobile, something that lifted the words far above being merely words. Still, she pressed on, knowing the routine.

“What are you?” Jabba repeated, his voice harder as he dragged his fingertips along the most sensitive areas inside Leia, and she yelped loudly.

Bib's words returned to Leia, then. You would do best to let your Master have his way with you...Princess Leia. And those words stung. Her, a Princess? Serving every degrading, humiliating, sexual favor that Jabba asked? No, no Princess would do that. She was quickly on her way to becoming nothing more than just another slave...Slave Leia.

“I-I’m a slave!” Leia hissed. “I’m a slave.”

It wasn’t true, she reminded herself. It was just to give Jabba what he wanted to hear. It worked, because Jabba went right on to the next question in this game.

“Who’s slave?”

“Y—”Leia’s word turned into a loud, warbling moan as Jabba pushed his fingers, still spread out, deeply up inside her. When she had the chance, she took it: “Yours….”

Fingers narrowed and slid slowly down. “And what am I?”

“Mmm…”Leia whimpered, her chin trembling. "Muh...muh-hy..." Come on, say it already, she urged herself. “…my...Master.”

Fingers rammed up into her again, hard. Jabba didn’t ask the next question; it wasn't necessary.

“YOU'RE AHUNNNH--! Unhhh...ohhhh...you-hou're...muh...m-my…Master.” Leia closed her eyes and felt tears come again as she finished the exchange. “I’m your slave…and you’re my—” she gasped as his a fat fingertip circled her clit, then hissed out “Master.”

Jabba worked at Leia for a moment longer, and in her torment, she blurted, "I'm your slave, great Jabba...my Master."

“Remember that,” Jabba said. He placed his other hand on Leia’s lower body and pressed her closer to himself, then slowly increased the pace of his fingers inside her. Leia was once again his in moments; she turned her head away, unable to think of anything but the conflicting feelings surging through her body and soul.

She vowed right then and there that if—when, WHEN—Luke’s mysterious plan unfolded, she’d be ready. No matter what Jabba had done to her, no matter what he was still doing to her, no matter what he may yet do in the hours ahead…by the power of the Force, Leia would be ready.

"We're nearly there," Jabba said at one point, but Leia only half-heard him over her rising gasps and moans. "Let's finish you up, shall we?" He worked harder, faster--and Leia squeezed her eyes shut, and for what would be the very last time, she came for her Master Jabba like a good little slave.

The End