Pleasure Slave

The twin suns of Tatooine beat down upon one of the more dilapidated slums of Mos Eisley, baking the already scorched sands-cape in with rays of uncompromising heat. The air was stale, clouded with a dust-like smog that caused one to wheeze and cough when venturing beyond the crude safety offered by ramshackle shantytowns and cloisters of adobe huts. Here, in this sordid armpit of the galaxy, only the most lame and destitute wandered these deserted byways. Spice addicts, gamblers indebted to loan sharks, has-been sabaac players, even the occasional runaway slave made mad jaunts throughout the slums, eager to escape the harsh elements, even if only for a second as they lived in the squalor barely allowed of them.
    It was therefore a most endearing surprise then to see such an alluring and free-spirited young female, prancing with feverish glee through the sand-blasted stalls and market storerooms, patched up satchel held over her shoulder. Her name was Georgia and she was the daughter of a most successful merchant kingpin, adopted by a Muun salesman who'd cornered the market in homemade soap balls and incense rods. The fragrant and fine-smelling sample products were contained snugly in the confines of the girl's purse, a perfumed mist following in her wake as she sauntered by fellow shysters and vagrants with a smile on her sculpted face. Georgia was a pretty thing to be sure, garbed in a form-fitting tunic and trousers that hugged her petite and feminine form rather invitingly. The clothing in particular was a few sizes too small for her, a mark of her modest upbringing, the result being the rather accommodating manner in which her perky breasts were pushed upwards, the beginnings of a generous amount of cleavage forming with each sway of the snug-fitting top. Gamine thighs and rounded hips too were not hidden from wayward eyes as well, but it was the peppy grace with which she conducted herself that truly demonstrated her beauty amidst the gloom of the Mos Eisley slums. She was the rare desert flower, unperturbed by the corruption and filth that began to encroach upon her surroundings as she drew deeper and deeper into the grimy climes before her.
    Her eventual stop is a delivery of sulphuric bath salts to one of Mos Eisley's most well-respected gorgmongers, a frumpy brute of a creature known as Gragra. Operating near the old sewer reservoirs behind the slums, this particular area is avoided by even the less civilized sorts of Tatooine civilization. Here, rabid mutants and infamous bounties commissed by the Hutts themselves stalk the seedy underbelly, awaiting the prospect of fresh prey and the promise of a few credits to sate their drug-addled minds.  Georgia's own pep in her step is increased double time as the very air about her current environs begins to grow more pungent, a toxicity filling the atmosphere as she nears closer and closer to her delivery rendezvous.
    She rounds a few corners and bends, knowing she is close to her mark, glad the journey is almost over. Beads of sweat form upon her brow, mingling with the Tatooine sand and grit and caking up her long, luscious brown hair. Swearing to herself as she twirls a few strands between dainty fingers, she decides that for the next delivery, she'll have to put it up in a ponytail. It'll take several sonic showers just to wash the grime out of those volumed curls. So caught up in her own thoughts is Georgia as she meanders into a large market district before the sewers that she does not note a pair of bulging reptilian eyes watching her with quizzical interest, nor the fact that despite the usual vocals of the market that there is an unwavering silence that has struck the throngs of onlookers and merchants in attendance.
    Those piercing emerald orbs belonged to an up and coming Hutt crime lord known as Daruza. The slug-like hedonist preferred tropical and temperate regions to the arid dustball that was Tatooine, his massive, fetid and oily body irritated by the sand-stricken air that plastered his mountainous form. He'd taken a business sojourn to Mos Eisley in order to join the current don of the Desilijic kajidic, Jabba, good tidings and to exchange business strategies with regards to a materials required for Daruza's own droid engineering firms. With the meeting concluded, the Hutt lord was eager to return to the climate-controlled opulence of his star yacht, "Lyroxo's Zeal", and partake of the sublime company of a few of his prized Twi'lek dancers. His phlegm-ridden throat was parched however and in dire need of quenching and so the Hutt and his entourage of bodyguards, servants and aides had made for a cantina located in the aforementioned market district, in order for Daruza himself to allow himself to be refreshed. Reclining upon an ornate divan, held up by a dozen hulking enforcer droids and Gamorrean guards, the bloated monster was surprised then when his snot-filled nostrils beheld a most appetising and fragrant aroma, one which did not belong on this backwater planet.
    It is only when a bubbling grunt sounds from Daruza, a declaration towards the lovely Georgia, that all eyes turn from the Hutt to the pretty female. The svelte and charming girl stops in her tracks, breath catching in the back of her throat as she turns slowly and regards the drooling worm looking upon her with slit-like eyes.
    With a shaky voice, trying to hide her unease, the female asks slowly. "Your E-Excellency? Why w-would you address me," Georgia asks, trying not to seem too nervous. "Is there something you w-w-wish of me?"
    She can't for the life of her figure out why a Hutt would wish to exchange any sort of greetings with her. These gangster slugs are the de facto kings of the Outer Rim, possessing power and wealth that most common sentients wouldn't see in their entire lifetimes. Judging by this particular Hutt's expansive corpulence and the size of his gang, Georgia surmisses that this green-eyed slug is likely one of the more rich and influential sorts. To require something of a mere merchant's daughter could only mean a few things, and the young girl's blood thinned at those devious prospects.
    Daruza lower lip trembles as he loosens a low groan at hearing the girl's soft voice. Creamy, viscious saliva gathers at the corners of the vile Hutt's mouth before snaking in globs and gathering in the folds of his fleshy neck rolls. The abominable slug seems to shift forward a bit upon his dais, a few of the guards and droids bracing themselves further to accommodate their master's supreme mass. With all eyes still held between Hutt and girl, Daruza basks in the attention allotted him before he wiggles one of his pudgy hands towards himself, patting his bulbous gut in a clear directive.
    "Little flower," Daruza grumbles in his native tongue, eyes never once leaving the shapely form of the pretty Georgia. His long, thick tail which drapes across his divan shakes and wiggles in a not so subtle show of attraction for the girl.
    "Come closer. The Great Daruza wishes to know why such a darling creature would travel these streets alone."
    Georgia should be shocked, terrified, mortified even to hear Daruza's request. The way the slimy gangster looks upon her, the gurgling purr of his voice reeking of suggestive intent. It isn't as if Georgia is a fool with regards to Hutts and their licentious interest in humanoid females. The enormous mobster before her looks both intimidating and grotesque, his flabby, gelatinous physique a stark contrast to her lithe and supple form. Yet despite all the warnings she has paid heed to, despite the rumours of debauchery and cruelty that have been preached to her regarding the slug-like monsters, Georgia finds gleeful curiosity in the manner in which Daruza beholds her, in the strangeness of his misshapen body. What he could see in her mousy-haired, modestly clad self is beyond her, but the mere fact that he shows concern, even interest in her, despite these…
    What the hell? She resigns to herself with a shrug. It would be rude to turn him down and a Hutt's temper is never one to cross.
    She finds her long, slender legs carrying her towards the bloated slug, unperturbed by the numerous eyes watching her in silent anticipation as she nears the morbid proximity of the Hutt lord. Daruza's own bulging eyes never once leave Georgia's superbly sculpted form. In fact, as she moves gracefully towards the drooling monarch, Daruza's own interest seems to only rise to greet her sincere curiosity. Another slurping moan rumbles forth from the Hutt's flaccid chest, a wave of greenish saliva bathing his crag-like lips as his reptilian eyes watch the sensual sway of her curvy hips, the exquisite tightness of her cleavage encased in her top, the subtle pout of her lips. And a low chuckle, slow and resounding begins to course through Daruza's immense bulk as Georgia's mouth slowly curls upwards into a smirk, despite herself. She knows exactly what the Hutt lord is leering at, and rather than be repulsed, is moderately flattered at the attention.
    Mere feet from the slug-like creature's upheld dais, even the perfumed lozenges contained within her satchel can do little to mask the rancid odour of the vile Hutt. Daruza's own natural musk is a heady blend of marcan herbs, stimulant spice, tinged with the rotted flavor of raw marine life and yeasty swamp stink. The smell of the enormous sultan is overpowering to even the most hardy of human stomachs and as Georgia catches a whiff of Daruza's own gross scent, her lovely features sour, her nose crinking in disgust. Attempting to compose herself and surely waiting to hear the Hutt's admonishment, she is surprised to find the Exalted One himself still grinning at her, a knowing sort of sneer as he snorts with laughter. Puffs of even more revolting breath are released from Daruza's gaping maw into Georgia's face before the Hutt repeats his question to her, adding a salacious remark into his inquiry.
    "Such an alluring beauty should not be walking these environs alone," he rumbles in mock-concern. "Though to be fair, the esteemed Daruza thinks she would fare much better if she weren't walking here at all. Not when there are beings of wealth and influence who could share in their hospitality with her."
    More hooting laughter sounds from the Hutt, echoed by a few of the surrounding cronies of his entourage.
    "So again," Daruza intones, pursing his ugly lips in consideration. "What business do you have here?"
    Georgia blushes and tries to mask her disgust, her eyebrows twitching as she gazes into the amphibious-like, unavoidable gaze of the slimy Hutt. She spoke honestly, her fair, soft voice filling Daruza with vigour. "I was merely travelling to the space port, I'm required to attend a royal opera performance on Naboo."
    Daruza smirks down upon the petite female, thick tail twitching upon his dais. One of his bulging, emerald eyes widens a fraction more than the other, the Huttese equivalent of a head turned in consideration.
    "And you intend to travel all by yourself then? Nonsense!" Daruza sounds in a trumpeting declaration, smacking a tubby arm upon the armrest of his divan as he leans back comfortably, vast belly cradled amidst a variety of cushions and rugs. "Perhaps I will attend this opera myself, and perhaps I will take you with me."
    The hideous slug-like alien gives her a most indulgent look, piercing gaze momentarily drifting from her face to settle upon her chest in crude lechery before he motions to his handsome faced replica droid majordomo, beginning to make arrangements at the nearby cantina.
    "Change of plans. I'll take refreshments back upon my ship. We're attending this opera on Naboo. Private box seats. No exceptions. This lovely creature will be joining me."
    From his odorous maw, a plump, pustule-ridden tongue oozes across his lips briefly before he slurps a final question at to Georgia.
    "What is your name, little flower?"
    Georgia isn't perturbed by the Hutt's somewhat grotesque habits. Her keen, sapphire-blue eyes glance at the sliding tongue briefly before she discovers the courage to respond in kind. "I-I'd be delighted..."
    Part of her expected that the slimy Hutt was lusting over her, and had somewhat...pleasurable intentions in mind — but she couldn't care less. The attention was causing her to blush, and she found herself enjoying the sight of Daruza more and more with each passing dustball that drifted by the cantina exit.
    "Where are we going?" she asked politely.
    With another wet groan of satisfaction, Daruza gestures towards a place before his fleshy bulk, his slimy, wiggling, snake-tail slithering about his dura-steel platform this way and that, sliding a few pillows into a makeshift nest before his bloated belly.
    "Away from this pathetic excuse for a planet," the slobbering monarch rumbles throatily, gesturing with his offhand towards the spaceport beyond. "My own vessel resides within a private hangar at the spaceport. You will be joining me and together, we will make the journey for this opera of yours."
    Georgia might be able to discern Daruza's own lustful interests in her womanly physique and girlish charms, but the true breadth of the Hutt sultan's wishes will not be witnessed until she finds herself aboard his Star Yacht. Daruza is exceptionally patient for one of his kind and knows of the practiced gestures and actions required in grooming a new female into a prized member of his personal harem. As he beckons towards the comfortable spot before his gigantic, warty hide, Daruza rumbles, pointing a tubby finger towards his platform.
    "There is no reason a pretty girl like yourself should need to walk like a mere commoner. You have earned the prestige of the Illustrious and Grand Daruza the Hutt. You will sit with me until we are situated aboard by ship."
    Not once does the drooling Hutt do anything but command Georgia before him. It is a subtle form of his own eventual control over a new servant. Daruza is certain that with a right amount of practiced traditions, rituals and slight mind games, he will be able to lull her into the perfect mindset of an adoring pleasure slave. His (first) human one.
    She suspects his game, and her sharp, well balanced mind calculates what might happen, certainly so, if she accepts. However, Georgia couldn't care less about what her prestigious father might think if he saw her galavanting with a slimy Hutt. Her ash-brown, silky hair flops in the wind, filling Daruza with her rich, feminine scent. She sits herself down on the dias and grabs a couple of pillows, her hand briefly sliding across his slimy belly and producing a wet, squelching sound. The pillows were extremely comfy, and she soon composed her shapely, young body before the greedy, patient, charming, salivating Hutt who couldn't wait to introduce her to the slave life. He found himself caring about her, which was odd, even for his kind, and he was determined to make not only himself happy, but Georgia as well.
    "This is...very comfy," the young daughter of a merchant admits openly, looking skywards at Daruza.
    Stealing an appraising glance at her svelte figure as she hoists herself upon his great divan, Daruza lets loose a low growl of appreciation, catching the slight jiggle of her perky breasts bouncing within the snug confines of her tunic. the toned muscles of her thighs noted by the wayward eyes of the perverted Hutt as she takes her spot before him graciously. When her hands briefly run along the lower regions of his bulbous gut, Daruza makes a noise between a purr and a belch, more of his odorous breath drifting towards her as she attempts to get comfortable in her new place at the slimy monarch's side.
    He is rather accomplished when it comes to reading the body language of humanoids, having contracted dozens of them to work on his behalf. Georgia's own relaxed, almost proud demeanour as she reclines before the obese crime lord, pleases Daruza greatly, a coughing sort of chuckle rumbling throughout his wiggling rolls of fat. The amusement and affection he feels for this darling female is paramount as he barks out commands for the droids and bodyguards holding up his massive divan. In a brutish and concerted effort, they begin a slow plodding march towards the space port, carrying both their overweight master and his lovely female companion to their destination.
    At her own comment, the Hutt offers a huge smile, a dried crust of his smelly and foul drool flaking at the gesture, to be dispersed as he wipes its remains away with a chubby arm.
    "Being with me is always comfy, little flower," The monstrous slug retorts arrogantly, his long, fat tail slithering about before its worn, ribbed tip slides in a lingering sort of gesture against her soft legs, before tickling the side of her hip gently. It disappears between the place where tunic meets trousers and teasingly strokes her bare flesh before disappearing back into the nest of pillows.
    "All I know is comfort and luxury after all," He rumbles solemnly as the entourage passes through the private hangar entryway. "How fortunate you would be at my side. What joys you would experience, what indulgences you would be blessed with."
    And as if on cue, Daruza gestures with smug approval at the sleek and looming personal Star Yacht, a marvel of Huttese and Kaminoan ingenuity. "Lyroxo's Zeal", flagship of Daruza the Hutt and a striking display of his wealth and power.
    "It is wondrous to be in my good graces, little flower," Daruza grumbles, his stubby fingers running through her luscious hair. "Is it not?"
    The touch of his slimy tail against her hip actually sent shockwaves of pleasure down her body, and she gasped quietly as it came into contact with her clothing. A strange thought suddenly came to mind, as she gazed in awe-struck vigour at the ship.
    What if my father finds out that I became a...slave? Georgia's soft, pale tongue rolled across her upper lip, her eyes drooping as she thought about it in more detail. She had a boring life anyway, what harm would it cause to pleasure such a slimy, repulsive Hutt? Besides, he seemed charming and kind enough to offer her travel and comfort. As a sign of what was on her own mind, Georgia did something Daruza didn't anticipate. As the stone dais was moved towards the ship, she waited for the Hutt to become distracted and leant over to the other side, gently taking his quivering, slimy tail and cupping it in her soft palms. Gently, and with a great slowness, she began to massage it, holding the end in her lap as she crossed her legs and pressed her smooth back against his slimy belly. She didn't say anything, she just merely hummed lowly and continued massaging, occasionally glancing up to see what was happening around her.
    I want my father to think poorly of me. I want him to see me as a Hutt's pleasure slave, an erotic, exotic dancer to please the scum of the outer-rim territories. I want him to know what his daughter will become, and live as. Georgia smirked to herself as she played with the chubby, smelly, slimy tail that coiled around her fingers.
    Daruza's cadre of hulking guards carries the mighty Hutt's ornate divan into the mock throne room located at the bridge of the sleek and massive star yacht. The decor within the elegant pleasure cruiser is both aesthetically pleasing, with sweeping curves and geometric perfection making up the ship's construction, as well as an eye for utilitarian detail. The hull of the Hutt lord's flagship is a beskar/durasteel composite, retrofitted to grant the yacht nigh invulnerability. This, along with the molecular shielding systems, along with a suite of lethal armaments have made the            Lyroxo's Zeal both a vessel of unmatched ferocity in battle and unparalleled luxury.
    Once the bloated gangster's dais has been lowered at the head of the throne room, the guards immediately held to the barracks located near the engine room, in order to rest their weary muscles after carrying the 1.5 ton Hutt and his dais about the Mos Eisley streets. Despite their vacancy, this does not stop the ruthless sultan from distributing orders about the spacious cabin. Servants are commanded to set to work getting the ship ready for departure while the Hutt simultaneous gurgles into the comms unit, snatching it up with one of his grubby mitts and bellowing for drink and foodstuffs to be brought out to him.
    The trio of Twi'lek dancing girls are also summoned to entertain their vile and grotesque master, though their own seductive gyrations are mere window dressing and show. Daruza has a far more intimate prospect he'd like to gauge for the trip.
    In mid-Huttese slur, the drooling monarch is unprepared for the sudden and overt attentions the pretty and vivacious Georgia regales herself with, as her elegant and careful hands suddenly dart out and snatch up Daruza's thick, squirming tail. The disgusting and putrid Hutt burbles in surprise, smelly spittle raining from his agape maw before he settles down as the lovely female proceeds to stroke and massage her fingers gently along the filthy, chubby girth of his loathsome, odorous tail. The fat appendage seems to wiggle and swell of its own accord to her ministrations, Daruza's own scum-coated tongue promptly slopping at the air as it hangs from his slobbering maw before slurping at his lips wetly. Even more surprised is the bulbous slug when Georgia's firm and supine body reclines backwards, her drawn back colliding with the doughy rolls of his blubbery belly with a loud plop.
    A moist groan of pleasure sounds in Daruza's throat, his fleshy jowls about his neck shaking with the guttural exultation.
    This girl, it seems, won't require much coercion as to her future within the Hutt's confidence after all.
    "Clearly," Daruza begins, a snorkel of air sounding as he snorts with glee as her dainty hands once again stroke along his long and powerful tail. "You know what I wish to make of you after all." He chuckles mischievously, one of his chubby hands reaching down to stroke her cheek, grimy fingertips caressing the softness of her flesh.
    "The life of one of my prized harem girls is a gift, little flower, and I know you will adapt quickly to the lifestyle and regimen of a pleasure slave in my court." The Hutt groans again in sensual bliss, a ribbon of foul and sticky saliva dribbling from his quivering lower lip and settling against her shoulder. "You seem to know the ways of pleasuring a Hutt...naturally."
    His pudgy, oily hand drifts about her body clumsily, still fumbling about the form-fitting tunic and finding its needless covering a most unbecoming annoyance. Grunting obnoxiously, his belly radiating warmth against her back, the Hutt strokes along her fair neck with his stubby digits quickly before he intones another command, this time directed at the lovely Georgia.
    "If you are to belong to me, little flower, you will look the part. Beauty such as yours should not be hidden, but exposed, flaunted, treasured..." And at this his tubby fingers seem to slip beneath the confines of her tunic, fingers gliding along her bare shoulder, flicking at her bra strap with toying amusement as the vile Hutt chortles hideously.
    Daruza suddenly belches an order at the Twi'lek girls, still trying earnestly to please the distracted Hutt with their supple movements. Ushering them over, he points to his new slave, fat tongue slapping about his mouth hungrily.
    "So you shall be dressed in something more...appropriate for your future at my side. I can assure you that once you return to me, you will be the delicious and exotic little nymph that you were born to be, serving me at my pleasure."
    Georgia was escorted to a private chamber, located deep within the luxurious cruiser by the three twi'lek women. They showed her inside and instructed her to get changed, and to put some make-up on. At first she was a little nervous, for everything was going so quickly. About an hour ago, she was the proud, wealthy daughter of a noble merchant of Naboo, now she was about to assume the title of a Hutt's pleasure slave, a top quality slave at that, for she would be his favourite indefinitely.
    She found herself staring at a beautiful mirror, and a large, rectangular bedroom complete with a sauna, steam room, luxurious plunge pool and a massage table. To her immediate shock, the room was actually allocated for her. It was a special compartment designed by Daruza himself, for only his best, most prized pleasure slave, one who wouldn't be tasked with all the dancing nonsense, or serving drinks. Georgia would serve the Hutt only, tending to his every need, whether it be sexual or domestic, or simply for relaxation purposes. She bit her lip at the thought of her new lifestyle unfolding before her soft, electric blue eyes and grabbed a gold brush from the marble side table next to the king-sized, blue velvet, satin bed. Her hair was a mess, and she needed to shower before any changes were made to her appearance.
    Even the shower was beautifully detailed, with a marble, square pattern and polished glass door. The warm, piping hot water did her sand-battered skin wonders, her moans of satisfaction reaching the ears of the twi'lek women who waited patiently outside. She washed her hair with a thick, gorgeous shampoo - the essence riddled with deep lime - and rubbed every inch of her supple, lascivious, nubile form with a bar of creamy white soap. Finally clean, she grabbed a large, pure cotton towel from the stone railing and wrapped it round her body, framing her breasts nicely. She sat herself down on the chair in front of the mirror and began to get to work on her appearance.
There was an abrupt knock at the door.
    "Who is it?" the young woman enquired, ringing her hair dry.
    A twi'lek dancer answered. "Your outfit is ready for you."
    She slid a package beneath the door.
    It was wrapped tightly in a sheet, and as she unfolded the many layers, revealed a truly stunning, yet perverted, skimpy outfit. It was a bikini, a solid gold bikini. The velvet interior design was of bright green, a stunning design spreading down the gold plate that would conceal her womanhood to all but Dazurua himself. There was a band of Huttese lettering lining the perimeters of it, as well as the gold bracelets and armlets that she would be expected to wear. To complete the ensemble, a large silk sheet, softer than anything she had ever touched, dangled beneath her naked thighs, tickling the sensitive skin that resided there. It was also green, matching the design of her bra that pushed her bulging breasts up and outwards slightly, making them appear far larger than what she would've expected. The strapping was very slender, tied in a cross behind her back and over her shoulders, keeping her breasts relatively still and firmly in place.
    A pair of silk boots, also lined with gold velvet slipped over her dainty, soft feet, completing her appearance.

    About an hour later, she walked behind Dazura and whispered in his ear. "I'm ready to be your pleasure girl now…"
    He turned to face her and licked his lips wildly, gazing at her skimpily clad body. She looked outrageously appealing, like eye-candy coated in an overdose or two of sugar. Her hair was tied in a long, continuous braid that tickled the end of her smooth back, a golden ribbon tying the end in place. Georgia's tight abdominals also caught the slimy Hutt's piercing glare, a soft, quivering bellybutton residing in the middle of a perfectly toned, well-formed abdomen.
    In the space of time required for Georgia to prepare herself for an eternity of servitude to the wealthy and powerful Hutt lord, Daruza made sure that his audience chamber was made as festive and accommodating as possible. The trip to Naboo would be a long one, as the Lyroxo's Zeal was designed for cruises of luxury and supreme defence, rather than speed and agility. The gangster would need entertainment, distractions and refreshment over the course of the journey.
    So the aides of the Hutt set about making the mock throne room of their master into a cozy and intimate affair, with dim neon-lighting, incense burners misting the air with spiced herbs, and somber, jazzy music playing about the audience chamber's sound systems. The kitchens themselves, a sizable array of the ship devoted to the Daruza's own insatiable gluttony, churned out a spread of numerous platters and bowls containing rare delicacies from a hundred worlds. Priceless sweet meats, sugared fruit orbs and decadent pastries lined the spread, with the more exotic and squirming fare that comprised Daruza's own huttese cuisine residing within reaching distance of the engorged slug, cloudy aquarium bowls and greasy pots filled with all manner if chitinous insects and swimming amphibious morsels.
    Taking up a challice of burgundy wine, complete with small tadpole-like creatures swimming about the rich fluid, Daruza gulps down half of the glass, taking a share of the tiny critters with it. The strong liquor slops messily about the fleshy rolls of his front, compounding his own musky body odor with the pungent stench of alcohol. The slimy Hutt cares little for such decorum however, releasing a curdling belch and reaching for a crystalline bowl of serendina wrigglers. His pudgy hand reaches into the soda-water and snatches up a particularly juicy specimen, the hapless creature wiggling about as Daruza dumps it into a small cauldron of drawn bantha butter. The amphibian now soaked in savory butter, the Hutt tilts the live snack back clumsily, barely taking the chance enjoy the flavor as he swallows it whole. Another smelly, wet burp sounds as the obese Hutt continues to indulge in fine food and drink, his own rapturous feasting punctuated with noisy smacks and slurps of his drooling lips and tongue respectively.
    Finished sampling roughly half of the now frightened appetisers with disgustingly gross relish, Daruza leans back on his throne, shifting his overfed belly as it jiggles and wobbles with slimy squelching noises, piles of live food digesting in his mammoth stomach. His flabby rolls are a stinking and rotting mess of half-eaten slop and foul drool, his odorous maw caked with the remnants of his monstrous binge. Another unrestrained belch follows as he pats his fat gut in appreciation, long, thick tail swaying to the soft rhythms of the projected music. Daruza's thoughts now drift towards more carnal matters, daydreaming and fantasising with obscene lechery at the prospects that will be on display when Georgia is brought back out, outfitted and made up for his sleazy and disgusting amusement. He has never had a human slave girl before.
    They have always been unnecessarily risky investments, with clout and positions that would muck up the Hutt syndicates and their politics. To find such a beautiful and playful female, wantonly submitting to his loathsome touch, his crude desires, his insatiable hungers, it was more than providence to the Great Daruza. It was destiny. And as he considered just how lustfully perfect she would look before him in that revealing mesh of gold and silk, slender and womanly body ready to be taken into his greasy arms, the Hutt sultan found his big, chubby tail stiffening at the mere suggestion of his pretty plaything and the pleasure and services she would provide for him.
    Picking up a small shot glass filled with highly acidic liqueur, Daruza downs the fiery drink only to snort in sudden surprise as a sultry, husky voice sounds from behind his oblong shaped head, her hot breath coaxing against his warted hide. Georgia saunters about in playful seduction, her rounded hips twisting left and right, teasing the ugly and vile Hutt with the potential joys waiting beyond those shimmering silk skirts. With a loud and gurgling groan of pure and unadulterated pleasure, the grotesque crime lord leers upon the scantily clad vixen turning about and displaying her bikini-garbed figure with a temptress' grace.
    His stinking and plump tongue, covered in oozing slime and corruption erupts forth from his sullied maw and slops at his crag-like lips in lustful enjoyment, the moist and fat appendage hanging loosely from his maw like a dying worm as the Hutt monarch beholds Georgia in all her sexually enticing glory.
    Her sapphire eyes twinkle with captured starlight as she looks upon the bloated monster she will soon call master, a measure of flirtatious interest tinged with hints of disgust at her Hutt owner's slobbering appearance and ripe smell. Her own striking features are met with nothing but the gurgling and inarticulate groans and burbles of the loathsome gangster. When finally he is able to manage slurring words of rapid Huttese, it is still impossible for him to hide the severe amount of desire and want he feels for his new pleasure slave, his pretty toy.
    "To think that such a rare and luscious example of beauty was hidden away on that dustball planet," Daruza rumbles with a liquid chuckle, great body heaving with more squishing noises. "As my latest personal slave girl, you will no doubt serve me well with that fit and buxom body." And at this his emerald eyes crawl over her half naked form with perverted admiration.
    "In order for your new place at my side, as a slave girl to be pleasured and cherished, there is but one more...accessory I must put on you before you will truly belong to me." Daruza rumbles with an exasperated sigh of utmost pleasure, fumbling behind his armrest for a small recessed compartment. Chubby fingers find the gilded circlet of jewels, upon the looped end which contains the clinking, shining chains that are the mark of a Hutt pleasure slave. With a swollen finger curled towards his flabby, slug-like body, Daruza beckons Georgia over, warm and smelly saliva leaking from his lips.
    "Come to me, my little pet," he rumbles with his eyes closing to slits. "Let me put this on you...and make you mine."