Archive: By Master & Apprentice, my site, WWOMB and
SithChicks
Pairing: O/Other, Q/Other, O/Q
Category: Alternate Universe
Rating: NC-17 for the series; this episode rated NC-17
Disclaimer: Rick McCallum would love this story, so we'll let
HIM tell George about it.
Warning: None.
Summary: A still recovering Obi finds himself in a spot of
trouble on his (apparently) never-ending quest to find his
beloved Master again.
Notes: This fic is dedicated to Darth Fi...LET THE PLUSHIE GO,
FI! As always, I'm paying homage to the great SF author, L.
Sprague DeCamp with this story. Thanks (as always) to Beta
Readers Par Excellence Fox, HiperBunny and Emrin Alexander, my
dear friends without which this would be a poor series indeed.
It was a thin, haunted-looking Obi-Wan Kenobi who burst into
the Temple garden at dawn, arriving with a bang of displaced
air. Grim, gray-green eyes looked around from under his brown
hood, and he clutched his unlit 'saber in one hand firmly while
he extended his senses carefully.
Coruscant looked entirely normal, as did the Temple. No dark
energies swirled and what few people he could feel appeared to
be Jedi. He stood still for a while, as if warring with himself
whether to continue exploring this Temple or to leave. Finally,
cautiously, he entered the Temple, making his way towards the
Main Concourse.
There were very few people about. He looked for a public
terminal, but to his surprise, there were none in the usual
place. Thinking briefly, he decided to check the library first,
before merely going to Master Yoda's quarters. He didn't notice
the tall Jedi in the dark blue tunics approach him until he was
at the lifts.
"Hold there," a deep voice commanded, and he froze. His fingers
reached for his 'saber unconsciously.
The Knight that approached him was unfamiliar, as was the
Knight's uniform. The man was big and burly and regarded
Obi-Wan with a level of suspicion that made the younger Knight
twitchy. "Papers, please," the blue-clad Knight demanded
brusquely.
Blinking, Obi-Wan said, "I beg your pardon?"
"Wait. Kenobi? Is that you?" The mysterious Knight's eyes
narrowed. "What are you doing out of your rooms without your
Master or your collar?"
"I-I'm sorry," Obi-Wan began, but the bigger man cut him off.
"You'd better hope your Master is in his quarters, or else
you're going to be whipped again, boy," the man growled,
grabbing his arm as the lift arrived. "C'mon. I can't believe
you'd be this stupid three times in a row, Kenobi."
The hold the big Knight had on his arm prevented Obi-Wan from
reaching his 'saber and his words set the young man to
trembling. Misunderstanding the reaction, the man said gruffly,
"You'd just better be glad it was me and not Bruck that found
you. Bruck'd just have taken you to the post and whaled at you
without a by-your-leave."
By then they were on the third level and Obi-Wan was being
rapidly propelled down the hallway towards his old apartment.
// No, no, I'm not ready, // Obi-Wan repeated frantically to
himself, even as the Knight rang the chime and the door began
to open. But it was too late: Qui-Gon stood in the door,
looking at him in shock, and Obi-Wan froze.
Time stood still. Forcing his rebellious lungs to expand,
Obi-Wan took a breath and then another, his face downcast and
his eyes focused on light brown tunics. He could hear, as
though coming from far away or from underwater, the Knight who
stood by him speaking with Qui-Gon, and was aware of the
violent trembling in his limbs, but he could not bring himself
to look up into Qui-Gon's eyes, dreading what he might see.
"I think this one's yours, Master Jinn," the Knight was saying.
"I told him he was damn lucky I was the one that found him, out
without his collar and all."
"Ye-yes... thank you, Bordal. I don't know what could have come
over him."
"He'll need punishment, but I'll leave that to you. Don't worry
about the report, I'll take care of it."
"That's kind of you, Bordal. I appreciate the help."
"Leave you to it, then." Pushing Obi-Wan into the room, the
Knight turned away, allowing the door to close automatically
behind him, leaving Obi-Wan alone with Qui-Gon.
"What the hell happened, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon hissed. "What are
you doing back? I saw you on that transport myself. What
happened?" Grabbing his shoulder, Qui-Gon shook him hard,
and Obi-Wan flinched back involuntarily. His hood dropped back,
and he heard Qui-Gon's quick intake of breath. "You've been
hurt. Obi-Wan.. what happened?"
Finally, Obi-Wan was able to drag his reluctant eyes up to meet
Qui-Gon's. Clenching his fists hard, so that his broken nails
bit into his palms, he forced himself to look. His breath left
him in a gasp of relief. Concerned, calm, deep blue eyes met
his... Qui-Gon's eyes. Suddenly, he was able to talk again.
"I-I'm sorry. I'm not the Obi-Wan you think I am. I'm not from
this reality," he said, watching the blue eyes go from concern
to puzzlement and a little anger. "Please, allow me to explain.
But I assure you I am not the Obi-Wan who lives here."
"That doesn't make any sense," Qui-Gon said.
"I know," Obi-Wan smiled slightly, ruefully. "But I assure you
I can explain."
Frowning thunderously, Qui-Gon indicated a chair for the young
Knight and sat in the sofa opposite. "All right. I'm
listening."
Slowly at first, then more quickly as he grew more comfortable,
Obi-Wan told Qui-Gon of his adventures, how he had come to be
traveling between realities. Skeptical, Qui-Gon was totally
astonished to be handed an exact copy of his lightsaber. He
held the two 'sabers up against each other, incredulous. That
won him over, even though Obi-Wan was careful to omit what he
was searching the realities for and why.
Taking back the 'saber, Obi-Wan only briefly touched on
travels, talking about the Sith and the worlds where the Sith
had ruled. He also mentioned Palpatine, but Qui-Gon's gaze was
blank. "There's no one by that name in the Senate," he said,
"that I know of anyway. But we don't do a lot of work for the
Senate."
"You don't?" Obi-Wan said, puzzled. "What are the Jedi in this
reality then?"
Shrugging, Qui-Gon finally leaned back, still astonished but
now willing to believe. "Traders, facilitators, negotiators.
The Cadre do assassinations. The Scholars do investigative
work. Why? What do the Jedi you're familiar with do?"
"We're negotiators, fighters, we keep the peace. We work for
the Senate and go where we're needed," he explained.
"Doesn't sound like a very profitable venture then," Qui-Gon
said shrewdly.
"Well, no. Jedi do not crave material things..." Obi-Wan
replied pedantically. Qui-Gon laughed.
"I wouldn't be very happy there, then," he said. He examined
Obi-Wan carefully. "You don't wear a braid, so you're not a
Padawan. Did you manage to buy your freedom?"
"Freedom?" Obi-Wan repeated stupidly. "I was Knighted when -
when my Master died, on Naboo," he explained.
"Knighted?" Qui-Gon said, surprised and puzzled. "You mean..
wait. Then you weren't ever a Padawan then? It's unlikely you
were a slave if you're a full Knight now."
"A slave?" Obi-Wan squeaked.
"Well, yes," Qui-Gon said, equally surprised. "That's what the
Padawans are. Bed slaves." In response to Obi-Wan's wide-eyed
reaction, he raised one eyebrow and barked with laughter. "I
think this is going to take some getting used to."
Over the course of the morning, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon talked, or
rather Qui-Gon talked and Obi-Wan listened. It seemed that in
this universe, 'Padawan' meant 'slave'... a Padawan was the
personal body slave of his or her Master, and were not be
allowed out alone in public without a collar and papers or the
Master in attendance. Occasionally, Padawans were able to buy
their freedom, and very, very rarely were allowed to join the
ranks of the Jedi. More often they went into the pleasure
worker field, or were occasionally hired as bodyguards.
Padawans were often orphans or children from poor families
whose parents had no other options. As long as they were past
puberty, physically sound and mentally able, they would be
accepted into the Temple, trained and then assigned to a
Master. Jedi Candidates came from the wealthier end of society
and were trained separately, living in dorms until they could
pass their trials, at which time they were generally supplied
with a Padawan.
// Could be worse, // Obi-Wan thought, with the first humor he
had felt in months. // They could emasculate the pleasure
boys...// Aloud, he said, "I think I follow... but I'm still
confused. If he's not allowed out of your sight, so to speak,
where's your Obi-Wan?"
Qui-Gon reddened. Obi-Wan could tell he was working to keep
back some sort of retort and wondered about it. Finally, the
big man looked down at his hands. "I-I sent him away. In
secret. I was supposed to join him, I was supposed to leave
today, but now..."
"Let me guess," Obi-Wan said. "You're in love with him."
It was obvious Qui-Gon was angry at Obi-Wan's words and
fighting to maintain control of that anger. "I-I don't think
that's any of your business... and besides... you couldn't
prove it..." he started.
Smiling slightly, Obi-Wan said, "In every reality I've been to,
wherever there's been a Qui-Gon and an Obi-Wan, they've been...
there's been an attraction, at least. It doesn't surprise me
that you would feel that way." Studying the big man sitting
across from him, Obi-Wan cocked his head. "I suppose such love
is forbidden then," he guessed.
After a moment's silence, Qui-Gon sighed. "Yes. And... and I
have reason to believe that our relationship is suspect. I had
planned on us leaving together, moving to Alderaan. I have a
lot of money now, I've been saving in secret for years, and I
sent most of it with Obi-Wan to get us set up. Then I was to
have joined him; my transport was to have left today. I
wouldn't mind leaving this place forever."
"What stopped you?" Obi-Wan asked, curious.
"Mace." Quirking a smile at the young Knight, Qui-Gon said, "Do
you know... did you have a Master Windu?" At Obi-Wan's nod, he
continued. "I think he suspects me, and since I'd be breaking
my contract, I can't possibly make any announcement of my
intentions." Another sigh. "He's called for a quarterly
reception tonight, two weeks early, and has informed me that
all leave was cancelled. I dare not show up at the spaceport,
he'd have my hide. But the worst of it is that the dinner
requires a Padawan in attendance, and Obi-Wan is not supposed
to be off-planet."
Suddenly he looked up at Obi-Wan, his eyes calculating, and
Obi-Wan involuntarily flinched. "But you... you're Obi-Wan! You
could take his place tonight, and I could leave tomorrow.
That's perfect." Ignoring the pale expression on the young
Knight's face, Qui-Gon became more enthusiastic about the idea.
"You don't have a braid of course, but we could get around
that. And you've got that shiner... but we can come up with
something for that too. Thank the Force you came today, my head
might have been on a platter else."
Rubbing his hands together happily, Qui-Gon was completely
oblivious to the consternation he was causing in Obi-Wan. "Yes,
this will work. Strip for me, Obi-Wan, I need to see..."
"NO!" The shout was ripped from Obi-Wan's mouth before he could
stop it. He shrank back into the chair in which he sat,
trembling violently, avoiding eye contact again... withdrawing
into himself. Qui-Gon stopped in mid-word, shocked at the
outburst.
"What in the world is wrong with you?" he finally demanded.
In the midst of a panic attack, Obi-Wan could not answer.
Qui-Gon stared at him curiously, sensing the Force eddies
swirling around the young man, feeling his barely-checked
terror and anguish. Reaching across the space that separated
them, he touched Obi-Wan's leg and was startled at the reaction
that innocent contact caused.
"I-I'm sorry," Qui-Gon said slowly, obviously unused to saying
so. "I forget, you were not a Padawan..."
// Breathe, // Obi-Wan told himself. // He's not him. He's not.
That one is gone and can't come back. Breathe. You are in a
safe place now. Breathe. // Continuing deep breathing exercises
to regain his control, Obi-Wan finally managed to speak,
shakily. "No... no. It's all right. I-I had a - bad experience
in one of the realities... I'm the one who should be sorry."
His concern and curiosity overriding his normal lack of
interest, Qui-Gon asked, "What happened?"
Slowly getting himself back under control, Obi-Wan didn't
answer for a few moments. // He's not evil. He's not the one.
That one is gone. Breathe. // Finally, softly, he said, "I-I
was captured. By the Sith. I was... tortured. And... other
things."
Qui-Gon swallowed. It was evident that 'other things' involved
abuse far beyond normal punishment for a body slave, far beyond
what the Master truly wished to contemplate - especially to a
man who looked much like the one he loved. "Ah." He seemed to
be at a loss for words, but finally continued. "I don't
suppose... I should probably not ask this of you then. To act
as my body slave, to do this..."
"No." This negation was much softer than the previous one, and
Obi-Wan managed a tremulous smile, but still could not meet the
other man's eyes. "I-I'll help you. I think this might be good
for me... to give over control rather than having it
taken from me."
They sat silently for a while, Qui-Gon frowning, Obi-Wan
concentrating on the hands he was twisting in his lap. With an
effort, he stilled them, taking another deep, cleansing breath.
// You are safe here. This is nothing compared to what you've
been through. This man is not him. Breathe. //
"I can't say I wouldn't appreciate it," Qui-Gon finally said.
"I'm not the least arrogant of men, Obi-Wan," he admitted
wryly. "My Obi tells me that frequently. But I don't want to
hurt you; it's pretty obvious you've been hurt badly already."
Falling quiet for a moment again, he continued to study the man
sitting across from him. "I won't fuck you. But you will need
to act as though you want me to."
Drawing in another shaky breath, Obi-Wan nodded. "I-I can do
that. I think. Let me help you. It... it just might help me."
"All right." Qui-Gon stood, pretending not to notice how
Obi-Wan shrank back from him as he did so. "It's rather late in
the morning, but I haven't broken my fast. Would you care to
join me?"
Nodding hesitantly, Obi-Wan also rose. "I'd like that. It would
be a blessing to eat hot food again."
Over a quick but hearty breakfast, Qui-Gon began talking about
his Obi-Wan. He was obviously besotted, and Obi-Wan smiled as
he ate to hear the big man talk. But Qui-Gon was also
apparently used to considering Obi-Wan as his property, as a
thing to be owned rather than a person, and the young Knight
couldn't help but wonder how much longer his doppelganger would
put up with that.
For himself, Qui-Gon was intensely curious about the young Jedi
who shared his lover's face. He was so clearly soul-wounded and
abused that the Master Jedi wondered if he had had a chance to
come to terms with it. Although he speculated on the extent of
the damage, he respected the Knight's reluctance to talk about
it.
After clearing the dishes, Qui-Gon took a seat again and said
gently, "I will need to see you, Obi-Wan. Can you strip down to
your leggings? Which, by the way, look a little worn. Obi-Wan
left some clothing here; he won't be needing it again, why
don't you take it with you when you go tomorrow?"
Slowly undressing, Obi-Wan appreciated Qui-Gon's attempt to
distract him. "I-I would appreciate that. Will I be wearing
tunics to the dinner tonight?"
"Well, not those," Qui-Gon said, laughing. "Not at a function
like this. Obi-Wan left some harem pants I'm sure. We'll find
something. And the collar, of course, and decorative chains,
perhaps a cock-sleeve. Obi-Wan took his link cuffs with him."
Qui-Gon's smile grew far away and appreciative. "He looks like
a dream in them. They attach to his ankles and wrists and there
are soft, sparkling chains..."
By this time, Obi-Wan was naked to his waist and Qui-Gon had to
bite back a comment at the injuries across the young man's
chest and back. "I-I can reduce those cuts for you, if you'd
like," he murmured, managing to suppress his wince of sympathy.
"And you'll need the nipple ring... oh, and I think I've got an
extra cock ring. I can help you with them, if you'd like."
Obi-Wan looked down at himself, at the webwork of half-healed
cuts on his chest. "I would appreciate it," he answered
quietly. "I had to focus on the worst of the injuries; it left
me a bit tired. And it's been... difficult... to concentrate
lately."
Rising very slowly, doing his best not to frighten the skittish
Jedi, Qui-Gon approached him and gently touched one of the
sores. A whisper of Force and it healed, faded. "This is
probably going to take a while," he said gently. "Perhaps it
would be best if you lie down. And I can do the nipple ring
while I help you." He indicated the other bedroom. "Why don't
you go into Obi-Wan's room and lay on the bed. I'll go fetch
the rings."
Nervous, but doing his best to suppress it, Obi-Wan went into
the other room. It had obviously not been used in a while, but
there were still linens on the bed and the closet still held
some tunics. There was also a pair of boots, and Obi-Wan
resolved to ask Qui-Gon for them when he left... the only boots
he had left to his name were the short half-boots that were not
very comfortable.
After a moment of reflection and breathing, he shucked out of
his pants and underwear, then lay down on the bed, on top of
the bedspread. Folding his hands over his stomach, he closed
his eyes and worked at centering himself, breathing deeply and
allowing the Force to enter him and soothe him. It took no
small amount of effort, as it had been a while since he felt
enough at ease to do it.
Coming into the room, Qui-Gon was caught by the sight before
him. The young Knight lay nude and supine on the bed, in a
light meditative trance. The Force sang through him, visible to
the Master as a rich glow. Then Qui-Gon noticed the scars,
covering his entire body, extending all the way to his feet.
Even the young man's genitals were affected. His knees and
ankles were also very swollen and painful-looking, and from the
looks of it, there were other joints that had been injured
somehow. Swallowing, he spoke as soothingly as he could,
approaching the bed slowly.
"I found the nipple ring and have a spare cock ring. We'll have
to cook up some weird excuse about the link cuffs, maybe
they're broken or something." Kneeling, he gently touched the
young man's folded hands. "Can you put your hands down to your
sides? It'll make it easier for me to work."
Obi-Wan didn't open his eyes, but complied. Shortly, he felt
the whisper of Force energy closing, healing and erasing the
wounds. Qui-Gon worked quickly, but with frequent breaks so he
wouldn't become over-tired. On one of the breaks, he commented
on Obi-Wan's Force acuity.
"The Force and I haven't exactly been on speaking terms of
late," Obi-Wan murmured. "It rather surprises me that I can
commune with it at all."
"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, preparing to heal
another section.
It was with great effort that Obi-Wan managed to speak. "I
couldn't... I couldn't escape. I couldn't change anything. Four
months, four months out of my life... and nothing changed."
Obi-Wan's voice was still soft but there were tears in it. "I-I
still don't understand why I was sent there by the Force. Why I
was forced to endure..."
"You believe the Force sends you to these realities?"
"I think so. Sometimes, I can do things, help things, like I'm
doing with you. But others..."
Falling silent again, Obi-Wan re-centered himself and waited
for more healing. After a moment, Qui-Gon continued.
It took several hours, but eventually they were done. Qui-Gon
elected not to heal some of the marks on his back, saying they
looked enough like whip marks to be considered such. He didn't
see Obi-Wan's wince of anguish at his words.
While the young man was on his stomach, Qui-Gon extended his
Force sense deep and could feel the damage in Obi-Wan's rectum.
He sent a gentle, soothing pulse of energy there, trying his
best to reduce the swelling and minor infection he could feel,
before moving on to the rest of the cuts and the joint damage.
The extent of injury was such that Qui-Gon could not fix it
all, and knowing what Obi-Wan had said earlier... that he had
had to concentrate on the 'worst' of it... gave him pause.
By late that afternoon, the work was done. While Obi-Wan
showered, Qui-Gon hungrily ate a sandwich to restore his
energy. Obi-Wan stood for a long time under the hot pulse of
spray, letting the heat sink into his bones and wash away some
of the worst of the memories. Stepping from the shower stall,
he was caught by his reflection in the full-length mirror.
Pale and gaunt, he had yet to replace a lot of the muscle tone
he had lost while in captivity. His eyes looked horrible even
to him; sad, gray pebbles set in a white face. One of his eyes
was still swollen partially shut; he remembered healing it;
there had been a fracture to the orbital lobe and it took him
several days to knit the bone properly. The ring Qui-Gon had
pierced him with winked from his left nipple, and the cock ring
shone from a penis that he thought might never get hard again.
His hair was ragged and in parts it was falling out. Despite
Qui-Gon's best efforts, if he looked closely he could still see
the fine lines criss-crossing his skin.
He sighed. For so long, he had lived with the hope that one of
the realities would hold his Qui-Gon, his home. But now... now
he wondered - not only whether he would find his home, but
whether he would be able to accept his Qui-Gon if he did. And
whether his Qui-Gon would be able to accept him: the scarred,
battered, embittered Knight he had become.
He heard Qui-Gon in the other room. "I've found an old pair of
pants Obi left. They'll do. I don't think you need the
cock-sleeve. And here's a vest that Obi used to wear all the
time, before the link cuffs. It should hide some of your
thinness." He laid the clothing on the bed. "Now, let's see
your hair. Hmmm..."
While Obi-Wan dressed in the filmy, see-through pants that
clung to his rear and left nothing to the imagination, Qui-Gon
studied his head. "All right. I've got some hair gel. Let's
just slick it back and if anyone asks about your braid..."
"Perhaps you ripped it out accidentally?" Obi-Wan asked,
grinning wryly.
To his surprise, Qui-Gon took him seriously. "That'll work. It
was a punishment. Mace will accept that."
// Alllll right...// Obi-Wan thought to himself, making a
mental note to play extra subservient. Aloud, he said, "What
can I expect tonight? Should I eat first or will I be expected
to serve you and eat with you...?"
"Ah, yes. You wouldn't know." Rapidly, Qui-Gon filled him in on
the proper protocol. "You'll be at my feet at all times. You'll
serve me... make sure you DON'T give me any challa, I hate it
and Mace loves it. You'll be expected to be completely under my
thrall, and to behave as a pleasure slave. Do not speak unless
spoken to, and always call me Master, nothing else. Never look
me or any of the other Masters in the eye. I'll try to send you
a signal if I see you're doing something questionable..."
"Nudge me with your left foot," Obi-Wan suggested, and Qui-Gon
nodded.
"All right. Stay on my left then. Obi... My Obi always touches
me. Always. Can you do that?"
Obi-Wan looked down and nodded. "There's one more thing,"
Qui-Gon said. "Obi-Wan has a very, ah... distinctive walk.
He-he glides." To Obi-Wan's amusement, Qui-Gon blushed. "That's
the only way I can describe it. Master Oochowa once called it a
hungry stalk. Let me see you walk away from me."
Taking a deep breath to center himself, Obi-Wan relaxed his
muscles and tried to saunter across the room. He was very glad
that Qui-Gon had helped heal the damaged joints in his legs or
he might not have accomplished it.
"That's close... try for looser when you walk. It'll just have
to do." Turning to the desk, he picked up a heavy, ornate gold
collar, which he tossed to the young Knight. "This is Obi's. I
was going to bring it with me when I met him. I'll get the
leash."
// Leash? // Wondering for the umpteenth time just what he had
gotten himself into, Obi-Wan gingerly hefted the collar. It
wasn't as heavy as it looked, and he could tell right off that
the lock had been filed off so that it could be easily removed
by the wearer. Carefully, he fitted it to his neck and closed
it; with a soft snick the latch engaged. Qui-Gon came out of
his bedroom at that moment.
"Do you see how to open it?" At Obi-Wan's nod, he said, "Good.
Hold on to this, please. I need to go get changed, then we'll
leave. I'm hoping I can get us out of there early... I dread
these affairs. Mace is such a pretentious asshole."
That earned him a weak chuckle as he disappeared back into his
bedroom. Wandering into the kitchen, Obi-Wan assembled a
sandwich and poured himself some juice. Apparently he was not
going to be able to eat tonight and he thought he should keep
his strength up.
Shortly, Qui-Gon returned, dressed in formal whites. He saw
Obi-Wan eating and nodded. "Good idea. Finish up and we'll go."
As he fastened the leash to the collar, Qui-Gon chuckled. "When
you first walked in the door, once I figured out who you were
anyway, I wondered how I could have ever mistaken you for my
Obi. Now, though... you really do look just like him. It's
eerie."
Smiling uncomfortably, Obi-Wan lifted his chin and waited until
the leash was secure. "Well, in a sense, I am him, you
know."
"Intellectually, I understand that. Emotionally..." Finished
with the leash, he rested his hand on the younger man's
shoulder. "I-I know you've been badly hurt. And I do appreciate
this that you're doing for me. I... wanted you to know."
Obi-Wan forced another small smile. "You're welcome. We'd
better do this now before I lose my nerve."
"All right." Qui-Gon gave a gentle tug on the leash. "Remember
the walk."
It took Obi-Wan only a short time to determine that this Temple
consisted of only humans or human-looking people - and mostly
males, to boot. The "reception" consisted of the council
members and senior Masters sitting or lounging around a
lavishly appointed buffet, eating, chatting, and being
outstandingly, stupefyingly boring. Each Master had a
scantily-clad Padawan in constant attendance. Most, Obi-Wan was
gratified to note, looked well-fed and well-cared-for. Some
however - including Master Windu's Padawan, who seemed young
but that might have been the fear on the boy's face - bore the
mark of lashes or other punishment.
Qui-Gon entered the room as if he owned it, gently tugging a
self-consciously swaggering Obi-Wan behind him. The young
Knight kept his eyes downcast and allowed himself to fall into
a semi-trance state, the better to cope with this tense
situation. Taking a seat on a comfortable-looking overstuffed
divan, Qui-Gon made sure as Obi-Wan settled at his feet that
his left foot was at the young man's lower back.
Settling himself on the floor, Obi-Wan leaned against Qui-Gon's
leg and rubbed his cheek against the older man's knee, while
looking around the room from under lowered lashes. He listened
carefully to all the talk around him, easily sorting through
the various voices. Remembering how his Master had taught him
to read the nuances of a crowded room, he concentrated on
figuring out the hierarchy of the room. The exercise was oddly
soothing and allowed him to forget his unease.
One thing became abundantly clear within a few moments: Mace
Windu was in control of the Temple. Everyone in the room
deferred to him. Gentle ribbing, small talk, jokes and gossip
were shared among the other Masters but none of it was aimed at
Windu. And Windu was not happy to see Obi-Wan.
It didn't take long for Obi-Wan to figure out his place and his
duties. Copying the other Padawans in serving his Master was
the work of a few moments, and he brought dishes of delicacies
to Qui-Gon, serving him deftly. At one point, Qui-Gon's left
foot nudged him gently and when Obi-Wan looked up, he heard
Qui-Gon murmur, "White wine." Gracefully he gained his feet and
fetched a large goblet for Qui-Gon, dropping to his knees
between Qui-Gon's spread legs and serving him, eyes downcast.
Qui-Gon was appreciative and caressed Obi-Wan's head, smiling.
"Where is your Padawan's braid, Qui-Gon?" Mace asked abruptly.
Obi-Wan glanced at the dark Council member and immediately
looked away... the man had his Padawan's head in both hands and
was holding the boy at his crotch. The boy's shoulders were
slumped in despair.
"Well, that's a rather long story, Mace," Qui-Gon said easily,
stroking Obi-Wan like an exotic pet. "He was rather disobedient
the last couple of days. I was... a little overzealous in my
punishment. Isn't that right, dear?"
Keeping his eyes down, Obi-Wan projected an aura of whipped
dog. "Yes, Master," he said softly.
A Master seated across from them laughed shortly. "I thought he
was walking a little funny! You should be more careful,
Qui-Gon."
Reddening slightly, Qui-Gon snorted. "He won't break. And he
needed the lesson."
Mace was staring at them speculatively, ignoring how his own
Padawan was licking and nuzzling his half-hard member. A glance
around the room confirmed to Obi-Wan that most of the Padawans
were servicing their Masters, either by hand or mouth. Two
Padawans were in a classic '69' position, under the watchful
gaze of their approving Masters. Tentatively, he reached up and
began gently massaging Qui-Gon's upper thighs, trying to
swallow his revulsion and fear over the idea of seeing the huge
phallus again. Qui-Gon looked down at him, approval and
sympathy in his eyes.
"I've been thinking how we should reinstitute the practice of
Padawan switching," Mace suddenly drawled. "Give the Padawans a
better experience level under different Masters. What say you
all?"
There was silence in the room for a while, then the Master
across the room - who had laughed earlier and who was presently
enjoying the oral ministrations of his own Padawan - spoke. "I
don't see where that's completely necessary, Mace," he said
slowly. "What would you hope to accomplish?"
Another Master, who Obi-Wan had pegged to be a 'yes-man' of
Mace Windu's, spoke up, belligerently defending the Council
member. A debate sprang up, hindered by the fact that several
of the Masters were near climax.
Obi-Wan paid only peripheral attention to the argument. // I
can do this, // he thought firmly to himself, reaching to
unfasten Qui-Gon's pants. // It means nothing. He's not forcing
me. I can do this. He will not force me. // Qui-Gon was,
however, watching him avidly, even as he made interjections
into the argument. Slowly, gently, Obi-Wan reached into the
formal white pants and pulled out the hot, heavy erection, the
same one that had ripped inside him as he screamed in anguish
and fear...
// NOT the same one, // he thought firmly, beating down the
gibbering terror. // That one is gone. This is just Qui-Gon.
You know what he likes. Give it to him and get it over with. He
won't force you. You are helping him. // Tentatively, he leaned
forward and dragged his tongue along the big cock in front of
him, swirling around the head gently.
Qui-Gon gave a muffled gasp and his hips arched, ever so
slightly. For some reason, that relaxed the young Knight,
calmed the horrifying fears that were trying to overcome him.
This was not the golden-eyed monster who tried to destroy his
soul. He could do this. Blanking his mind, he plunged his mouth
down over the phallus, deep-throating it and sucking strongly.
His Master moaned.
Listening to the debate wind down with half his mind, Obi-Wan
concentrated on sucking and bringing Qui-Gon to orgasm as fast
as he was able. His ministrations seemed to be having the
desired result, for Qui-Gon sat panting, with his head back,
one hand lightly on Obi-Wan's head as the younger man bobbed
between his legs. Abruptly the hand on his head tightened and
Qui-Gon began to grunt slightly. Bitter semen flooded Obi-Wan's
mouth and he swallowed convulsively.
Laving the softening penis in his mouth, Obi-Wan was aware of
Qui-Gon's hand stroking his head. After a moment, he tucked the
big man's cock away, and patted his groin. A glance upwards
showed that his Master was most gratified.
"Pah. Away," Windu said, shoving his young Padawan from
himself. The boy fell over backwards and curled into a ball,
shivering while Windu glared at him. Glancing around the room,
his eyes lit on Qui-Gon. "You seem happy, Qui-Gon," he said
sourly. "This helpless idiot couldn't suck cock if it was the
only food he had. Send Obi-Wan over. Let me see what a talented
mouth can do."
Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon froze for a minute, and Obi-Wan
remembered Qui-Gon's words about Windu suspecting him. Before
Qui-Gon could speak, Obi-Wan murmured "As my Master wishes,"
and squeezed the big man's left leg.
Qui-Gon was desperate for it to be all right with Obi-Wan, and
so took the signal as best he could, hoping the young Knight
could carry it off. "Surely, Mace," he said, trying for
languorous pleasure in his voice, "my Obi-Wan could bring a
stick off." Looking down, he said roughly, "You heard Master
Windu! Go on now."
Not bothering to stand, Obi-Wan slithered across the floor to
the dark Council member. His penis was lying, still only
half-hard, outside his pants, and Obi-Wan lifted it gently,
opening the man's pants further so that his entire cock and
balls were exposed. Performing for Mace Windu bothered Obi-Wan
not at all, for the dark-eyed Councilor was not the man whose
face Obi-Wan saw every time he closed his eyes.
Using both hands as well as his mouth, Obi-Wan worked the
phallus before him, fondling the heavy ball-sac, and soon had
the man to full hardness. Though Windu tried for a mask of
nonchalance, from the corner of one eye Obi-Wan could see his
hand curling into a fist and feel Windu's elevated breathing.
There was a soft cry from next to them, and Obi-Wan could just
see another Master vigorously fucking his Padawan over the edge
of his chair. Windu saw it as well, and a grunt escaped his
rigid control just as he exploded in Obi-Wan's mouth. He
rapidly went soft and Obi-Wan carefully replaced his genitals
into his pants.
Quickly, Obi-Wan slid back across the floor to Qui-Gon, once
again settling at the big man's feet and rubbing against his
legs. Several of the Padawans were being fucked by this time,
and it caused a slight trembling in his limbs that he worked
hard to hide. He was aware of Windu's eyes on him still.
"Now that's interesting," Windu said, once he had regained his
breath. "Your Padawan didn't even get hard. Didn't you like my
taste, boy?"
Before Obi-Wan could think of an answer, Qui-Gon laughed. "He'd
better not get hard! That's part of his punishment. He's not
allowed to get off for a while. Got to do something to keep
these boys in line."
That seemed to satisfy Windu. After a few more moments of
listening to the soft grunts and cries that filled the room,
Qui-Gon yawned noisily. "It's been a long day for me. I'm for
bed, I think... if it's all right with you, Mace?"
Windu was still staring at them, brooding. He had his Padawan
across his lap and was fondling the boy's genitals roughly. "I
suppose," he finally growled. "Trade with me tonight, Qui-Gon.
This boy could use a bit of stretching, and you've got the
biggest cock in the Order. I've a taste for Obi-Wan tonight."
"No, Mace," Qui-Gon said quietly, standing and pulling Obi-Wan
to his feet next to him. "Not tonight. I told you, he's still
on punishment, not allowed to have any pleasure. And nothing
brings off my Obi-Wan like a good hard fuck."
Narrowed eyes stared at him suspiciously. "Tomorrow then.
Surely you won't extend the punishment past a day."
Pretending to think, Qui-Gon finally nodded. "All right. That
boy of yours does look tasty. Tomorrow then, for, say, two
nights?"
Mollified, Windu nodded and waved them off. Trying not to
hurry, they left the reception.
Qui-Gon was ecstatic as they prepared for bed. "He bought it!
You were magnificent. I can't thank you enough, Obi-Wan."
Still shaking a bit in reaction, Obi-Wan smiled weakly. Not
noticing, Qui-Gon continued, undressing as he spoke. "I've
changed my transport to first thing tomorrow. I've got papers
for you, and you've got the collar, so you can just leave in
your own good time then. Does that suit you?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan answered quietly. He stood in the middle of the
room, still wearing the collar with the leash trailing down his
chest.
"Obi-Wan left several pairs of tunics, help yourself. And
boots... you look like you could use some." By this time,
Qui-Gon was nude and slipping into some sleep pants. He turned
towards Obi-Wan and hesitated. "Would... would you like to
share my bed tonight? I know you probably don't want to be
fucked, but I could give you pleasure..."
Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan looked into Qui-Gon's eyes. "No.
That's all right. If you don't mind, I'll sleep in the other
room."
Searching the younger man's face, Qui-Gon merely said, "Suit
yourself." After a moment of standing in silence, he drew a
breath as if to speak again, paused, and seemed to come to a
decision. "Never mind. Good night. I'll wake you so that you
can accompany me to the port in the morning."
"Good night," Obi-Wan echoed, then made his way to his solitary
bed, to sleep. And to dream.
And in the morning, Qui-Gon woke him, early. He followed the
Master to the port and saw him off on the ship, like the
dutiful Padawan he was pretending to be, wearing his collar and
holding his papers. Although he pretended not to be, he was
quite aware of the fact that they were followed, and that he
was followed back to his quarters. By a spy for Windu, he felt
certain.
Just a little later that morning, he made his quiet way to the
garden to leave. He wasn't followed on that occasion, and he
made his escape from the reality quickly and thankfully, but
still pleased that he had made a difference. At least, he hoped
he had made a difference.
Or maybe it was that the reality had made a difference in him.
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