DO YOU LOVE YOUR MASTER?
by ardavenport
*** Part 1
"Do you love your Master?"
"What?" Obi-Wan Kenobi turned to his fellow Padawan. Felci's slitted purple eyes peered at him from behind the edge of the embroidered veil that conveniently concealed his Padawan's braid and lock. Obi-Wan pushed back the edge of his own veil. Most of the rest of their disguises were long, wide breechclouts that hung down to their knees. The corridor deck plates of the passenger cruiser were comfortably warmed and carpeted under their bare feet.
"Do you love your Master?"
"Uuuuh, . . . yes?" Somehow saying 'no' sounded like the opposite of love, which was not right either.
They walked together. There were others up ahead, waiting to enter the party. Two of them were slaves. The other two were their masters.
"In the way that we pretend to for this mission?"
"Uhhhh, . . . . no." His halting answer was not entirely true, but for the purposes of this mission it was. More people arrived. Most did not stand too close to anyone else in the growing line, except for two Trandoshans who snorted and groped at each other; they were both slaves, a matched pair to a Human master. A few of the others were older than the two young Jedi, a few looked about the same as Obi-Wan's twenty years. Felci was younger by a couple years and apparently the most youthful guest to the festivities.
Lights on the sides of the heads of the two sentry droids blinked, but they remained fixed and unmoving before the golden doors of the party room.
"I must confess something . . . " Felci's low voice whispered in his ear. Obi-Wan kept his head pointed forward, only looking toward Felci's veiled head with his eyes. " . . . I have for some time been . . . . fantasizing about my Master."
Obi-Wan mentally review what he thought he had just heard his fellow Jedi say before speaking. "Have you acted?"
"No, of course not. That is against the Code. But . . . " The yellow veil bobbed downward. "I have thought of it. Seriously. I-I have found that I cannot achieve sexual satisfaction without the image of my Master in my mind. So, I have been quelling any sybaratic impulses in myself for some time."
"Have you told Master Rimo?"
"I-I-I tried. I-I-I tried to be excused from this mission, but she asked me why and I could not tell her." Felci's tone rose to an unnatural, panicky pitch. "I could not speak. I-I opened my mouth and the words would not come out."
"Should she not have excused you from this mission then?" There were now seven other people waiting to be let in. Their Masters were already inside with the other special guests of the Pundit Savant.
"She asked if I was ill or otherwise incapable of performing my duties. I am not, but . . . I-I-I could not tell her why I needed to be excused from this mission. That has never happened to me. Never. I begged her to go without me. I promised I would find a way to tell her later."
"Perhaps you should write it down?"
Felci faced him, slitted eyes blinking wide. "I did not think of that. I-I . . . this could have been much simpler if I had."
"Why did your Master make you come?" The whispered words were out of Obi-Wan's mouth before he realized the unfortunate double meaning, but Felci did not seem to notice.
"She said this mission would be a trial that I should overcome. But it does not feel like a trial. It just feels . . . . wrong. I-I-I do not know what will happen, but I think it will be bad. Very bad."
"Can I help?" Obi-Wan had absolutely no idea what help he could offer, but his fellow Padawan was clearly in need of some support.
"Master Rimo told me that if I could not speak to her, that I should speak to someone else."
Another person joined them in the corridor, a tall Torgruta wearing nothing but strings of gold and silver coins on chains. He jingled with every movement. His slender body was orange with only a few sparse white markings, though his face was almost all white. His skin was smooth and youthful, but the length of his gray and white lekku hanging over his shoulders and the tail down his back showed that he was older.
Slave.
The sentry droids remained, but one of them emitted a rapid series of clicks and put a metal hand up to an 'ear' antenna as if listening to something.
"Perhaps . . . . it would have been better if you had spoken sooner?"
The veil nodded. "I-I know. I realize that now. I did not know the words, but then I thought that . . . . perhaps, I was not the only Padawan who had . . . this problem?"
"I do not have your problem . . . . that I have not spoken to my Master about . . . " he swallowed, " . . . possibly having an attraction for him."
Felci's eyes widened with surprise and a flicker of hope. "How? How could you speak of such a thing to Master Qui-Gon?"
"In training, when I was closer to your age, when we gather to speak of our bodies, when they change. When the body affects our thoughts the most. I am surprised that you did not do so then." Obi-Wan hoped that he did not sound critical, but back at the Jedi Temple would have been the natural place for Felci to speak to Master Rimo, instead of on a mission when they were waiting in line to enter an orgy.
"That was the first time I tried to speak of it. When I could not speak. The others waited, but all I could do was beg for more time. They could see I was afraid." His tone dipped to a whisper, admitting his shame. "And then . . . this mission came. . . "
Obi-Wan again winced again at the double meaning, but his fellow Jedi was clearly too distressed to notice. Obi-Wan could sympathize with the difficulty of admitting to others his failings and then piling on fear on top of that. He just wished that Felci could have found his courage to admit it sooner. Another person making muffled sucking sounds joined the two Trandoshans. Not a slave, but a friend of their master who had been given permission to 'use' the Trandoshans whenever she liked.
Felci guiltily looked down at his nearly naked body, his orange-brown skin oiled and scented by the ship's salon droids to enhance his beauty. Obi-Wan as well smelled of smoky wood. "I should let go of this, but . . . my feelings were so strong and . . . . wonderful." The last word turned throaty as he spoke it; a true admission of lust. "I could not believe that I could feel this - "
"Attend."
Both Obi-Wan and Felci jumped when one of the sentry droids spoke. The others in the corridor moved closer. The golden doors hissed open and the silvery droids stepped aside. Drawn by the gravity of their duty, the two Jedi apprentices moved forward with the others who simply anticipated a gathering of unrestrained, passionate hedonism, an orgy.
The room was lit by covered lights near the base of the walls and in the sunken area in the middle. And the spectacular galactic spiral in the wide view ports of the passenger cruiser's observation chamber, reserved by the Pundit Savant for her private party.
She stood in the sunken area in the room. Naked to her waist, her firm biceps were well oiled, her three pairs of ample breasts glittering blue and gold under a single overhead white light. Some tuneless throbbing music played softly.
"Welcome." She smiled with a feral gleam in her eye. "There are no rules, no words needed here. Except that you are only allowed to give each other pleasure. Pure, selfless pleasure."
She held a long, silvery feather and she slowly ran it up the body of the young man laid out on a velvet draped table before her. He quivered. Two dome shaped protuberances lifted up from his pale blue groin. He was a young Saradas with long, many-jointed fingers and toes that curled tightly as he arched his back.
He was also a slave.
Behind the Pundit Savant was a line of her special guests for the party, people who had expressed a 'lust for living' to her during the more tame gatherings on this pleasure voyage. They were all naked to the waist (a couple were completely naked) and over half were wealthy slave-owners from the Outer Rim, outside of the reach of the Republic's anti-slavery laws.
Also, among them were two Jedi Masters.
Qui-Gon stood taller than all the others, long brown hair tied back, beard trimmed with sharp angular lines, arms folded over his chest, his member visibly erect under the silvery loin cloth tied around his waist.
Glancing away from the sight, Obi-Wan glimpsed Felci's desperate, fixed stare, as if he was simultaneously seeing both his own salvation and doom at the same time. Next to Qui-Gon, Master Rimo wore a long golden cloth hanging from a chain around her hips and going under the round bulges of the pink flesh at her waist and stomach. One hand idly fondled one of the nipples of her breasts. She was shorter than her fellow Jedi Master, but just as broad. Her graying hair was cut short to her scalp and sprinkled with gold flecks. Dark, painted lines emphasized the eyes and lips of Both Qui-Gon and Rimo.
Obi-Wan seized Felci's shoulder and pushed him aside and into one of the many alcoves along the wall. They both bumped into shelves, dislodging a few of the pleasure enhancement devices on them. The others from the corridor spread out into the room. A line formed at the Pundit Savant's table while others formed groupings of twos and threes. The two Trandoshans landed on a padded platform in another alcove with their master's friend in the middle. The music swelled with the rise of moaning, squealing and heavy breathing in the room.
Their Masters paired off with Rimo bent over a padded railing and Qui-Gon pumping into her from behind, and both of them keeping their eyes on the Pundit Savant who quickly brought the Saradas near to climax. She had added to her feather a flickering wand device that she ran over all parts of his body. The lights on her want solidified to bright yellow-white when he came and she caught the ejaculate in a colored cloth that was quickly passed off to a servitor droid. A slender female took the male's place and the Pundit Savant gently pushed her down with the wand before passing it over her wriggling body.
Another slave.
Obi-Wan threw his arms around Felci's shoulders, forcing him to look away from what their Master's were doing.
"I - I am not attracted to males, like you," Felci apologized in his ear.
"That will be good for you then."
"Oh." Felci belatedly realized the truth of that.
"Our mission is to observe and witness. Real participation is optional for us."
"Yes."
Felci's veil and short hair were pressed to the side of his face as he turned to look and Obi-Wan hoped that he was just looking at the table and not the activity around it. He turned to look as well. The Pundit Savant was on her fourth partner who writhed and moaned with pleasure on the table, the flashing want rolling over round curves, firm muscles and horns. The two Trandoshans had joined the line, without their master's friend who appeared to be spent, naked and spread out on the padded platform.
Felci looked away, pressed his head to Obi-Wan's collar bone. His veil tented around his head, holding in the hot breaths on Obi-Wan's bare chest. The ship's salon droids had shaved their bodies before massaging and applying oil to them.
"We have now observed and witnessed the Pundit Savant engaging in sexual acts with persons unlawfully held in bondage. Aren't we done?" His muffled words pleaded.
"Not until our Masters say so." Obi-Wan felt Felci's body tremble under his embrace. He heard something very much like a sob from the younger Padawan. He slowly and carefully folded his arms more tightly around Felci's broad shoulders, a firm and steady embrace, comradely shelter from the raging orgy around them. New groups of people had arrived and dove in with gusto. Couples, triples and one group of writhing arms and appendages of indeterminate number. The single participants pleasured themselves with the droids or other devices. Erogenous zones of several species were being stimulated with all manner of probes and orifices, both biologic and technologic. The Pundit Savant's wand slowly passed down the squirming chest, stomach, pelvis of the seventh or eighth person on her velvet table. Slave. They were all slaves.
"Breathe." Obi-Wan whispered into Felci's ear flap. They breathed together. Felci's arms wrapped around Obi-Wan's waist, attaching to his anchor. His body temperature was warmer than Human normal with salty, bitter sweat mixed with the scented oil, but there was nothing enticing about the desperation under it.
A grinning, four-armed partier stumbled at them with lecherous intent. Obi-Wan raised a hand, palm outward.
"We're not very interesting. There is much more pleasure over there."
Obi-Wan pointed in a random direction and the four arms waved back as if the body connected to them bounced off a force field before swiveling away, leaving behind an over-sweet floral breeze. Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan felt the Force in his body like a cool, calming breeze that washed down through both of them. The beings in the room were bright, fiery lights, full of life and living, but they receded to tiny specks compared to the grandeur beyond.
The galactic spiral above the ship, the starry arms with their thousands and thousands of worlds swirling in toward the bright center, glowed brighter. The aura of the Force touched everything, everywhere, all life, all things. Every cell of their bodies joined, connected and powered by uncountable stars and planets, impossibly far away but still within their reach. Suspended together, all the life in the universe surrounded them, flowed through them, penetrated them more deeply and completely than any physical touch ever could. Their oneness with the universe peeked . . .
. . . The stars receded. The flow of the Force calmed and their perception withdrew and returned to the void through which a large pleasure cruiser traveled and one large room on an upper deck and the dozens of brightly living beings, enveloped in, penetrated by each one's sensual, erotic moment. Except for . . .
"Something's happening."
The whispered words from Obi-Wan's lips on Felci's hot skin sharpened their focus back to the ship, the observation port, the party, the noise, thrumming and pounding, the many bodies desperately pressing together. Both Padawans, still in a tight embrace, looked toward the central table.
The Pundit Savant now lay stretched out and all the others from her line surrounded her in a huddle, heads down as if in a group kiss. Then two of them broke away. They approached Qui-Gon and Rimo, who were still in the same position at the railing. Rimo's back arched in pleasure . . . . a faked orgasm. She looked convincingly blissful, but the lack of real climax was a discordant note in the Force. The two Jedi parted. The male, with a very dark blue, muscular body and curled horns under his pointed ears, wrapped an arm around Qui-Gon's waist. Qui-Gon, his penis still erect under his loin cloth, lowered his head and they kissed. Rimo caressed a slender female Twi'lek, her pale purple skin completely naked next to the Jedi's broader body. They kissed deeply and squeezed each other's breasts.
The two led the Jedi to the table where the Pundit Savant sat up, her glittering triple pairs of breasts sagging down toward her lap, her legs dangling over the edge. Her circle of admirers continued caressing her, wherever their hands could reach. When Qui-Gon and Rimo were close enough, the Pundit Savant's hands suddenly shot out, grabbing their crotches through the long cloths hanging from the bands around their waists. She pulled them closer, as if to encourage both to kiss her at once.
"Huh!"
Both Padawans gasped.
The Pundit Savant's hands suddenly dived lower. . . .
. . . . to where both Jedi Masters carried their lightsabers, strapped to their inside thighs.
They were very close now and the crowd closed in around them, bodies swaying, hands and appendages grasping, stroking, entwining. Visible through the swaying bodies, both of them lowered their heads toward hers, within kissing distance. Her lips moved, close enough to touch cheeks and chins, first Qui-Gon . . . then Rimo . . . Qui-Gon . . . Rimo. The Pundit Savant's lips were full and soft and painted blue-black. Rimo turned her round face and intense dark brown eyes directly toward the Jedi apprentices.
Get ready.
*** End Part 1
