I do not own Star Wars, Jabba the Hutt , or Mara Jade
The celebrations of Jabba the Hutt's palace were as legendary as they were numerous. Each night the normally quiet and somber halls of his ancient fortress would boom with music and revelry, drawing in scum and villainy from every corner of the outer rim with the promise of potent drink, attractive and fairly priced women, and the most debauched entertainment the galaxy could offer. And at the heart of this tempest of chaos and vice was the throne room of the mighty slug gangster himself, where Jabba preceded over the festivities while never leaving his stone dais as slaves, servants, and guests labored to ensure their cruel Master never bored.
This night was no different than any other, as one of these famous parties had already been raging for hours. Several of the less hardy guests already lay passed out on a floor that was sticky from spilled drinks and vomit from a dozen different species. Those that still remained conscious stumbled through a miasma of stink, sweat, smoke, and sex, lurching to the jazzy beat of the Max Rebo Band, energized by the cocktail of drugs their host had been generous enough to provide.
They gathered near the many stages and poles where the most enticing spectacles of the palace could be found: the Hutt's dancing girls. They were exotic beauties curated from every corner of the galaxy, captured and enslaved to entertain the perverse reprobates. They shymied their abundant assets in their lewdly revealing outfit, fake smiles plastered on their lovely faces, knowing the harsh punishment that awaited them if they slacked in their performance for even a moment. The men around them called out rude suggestions while they made bids on their personal data pads, vying to take the girl of their fancy to one of the small side rooms once their stage time was up.
All of the platforms had their own small audiences but the largest crowd gathered around the metal grate set into the floor before the Hutt's massive throne. This is where the most beautiful and talented dancers of Jabba's stable performed. They were the center of the party where Jabba and his entire entourage could leer over their shameful gyrations as they desperately attempted to please their Master.
At the moment, under the dim spotlight that shone over the grate, a single voluptuous figure was already in the midst of her stimulating solo performance.
Her hair was as red and as orange as a Tatooine sunset, moving like flames come alive as she pranced across the dance floor. The tangle of fiery locks contrasts with the cool blue veils that made up her costume, both flowing in sensual consonance around her twisting form.
The rest of her outfit is revealing, but surprisingly conservative compared to the near nudity forced on most of her slave sisters. A mesh tank top hugs her midriff with twin blue pasties sewn strategically into the mesh just over her nipples. More blue cloth wraps around her ample hips draping between her legs and over her backside. Each athletic leap or kick sends the scant veils fluttering in the air, giving the drooling crowd only tantalizing glimpses before her intimacy vanishes beneath a whirlwind of red and blue.
Her pale skin practically glows beneath the light, her curves glimmering with the sweat of her energetic performance. Her glistening hips swing in seductive circles, abdomen undulating, sending erotic ripples and bounces through the heavy orbs beneath her transparent top. Her hands and fingers twist and fly though the air, using them to accentuate her seductive motions and provocatively play with her with her sparse adornments, each time coming close but never quite stripping them away.
The degenerates that surround her are mesmerized, but grow impatient with the teasing amount of cloth that still covers her body. The crowd soon begins to heckle the dancer tossing degrading insults and splashing drinks at her feet to hurry up and "get to the good part".
The red maned dancer feels her cheeks burn in humiliation and for a fraction of a second her lovely features flash with cold fury towards her horrific admirers. Her face quickly returns to a demure smile and she continues her demeaning performance. No one takes notice but if any had even the slightest idea of who this woman truly was... they may have left the palace and planet all together.
The palace knew her as 'Arica' a naive offworlder who had been picked up at the Mos Eisley spaceport and "convinced" to visit the palace by some of Jabba's recruiters. It was a common story and no one saw her as anything more than just another victim of Jabba's never ending revolving door of broken sex dolls. But beneath the makeup and revealing slave's garb was one of the most deadly assassins in the galaxy, the Emperor's hand, Mara Jade.
Gaining access to Jabba palace had been almost too easy for the force-trained fem-fatale. Her instructors had sculpted her body, enhancing it through dark Sith science, and trained her to take full advantage of her feminine beauty. Mind tricks could only get you so far, but a pair of perky tits and a heart shaped ass could take you almost anywhere in the galaxy if you knew how to use them. So when she had asked Jabba's recruiters where she could find work, with lips pouting and cleavage practically overflowing from her tight tank-top, they had been only to happy to assist.
She had used the same technique many times to get close to her targets. Mara had posed as a stripper, concubine, harlot, and mistress all to get into the perfect position to end her victim's lives. She had once spent weeks seducing the petulant son of a corrupt senator just to get into the same room as his father. From there it had been a simple thing to slip a dose of poison into his drink while he was busy staring at her chest. It never ceased to amaze her how easily these "powerful" men let their guard down when a beautiful woman was in front of them.
Still, none of these previous experiences could prepare her for the humiliations that had been forced on her in the past week. The things they did to women in this horrible place… if Mara had her wish she would burn the entire palace down to its foundations and let the rubble entomb everyone inside as soon as her task was completed.
But it wasn't up to her and she had been given strict orders to do no harm to the Hutt or his ilk unless absolutely necessary. She was here for only one target… a target that had yet to arrive.
Luke Skywalker, the would-be Jedi knight that had escaped Vader's clutches on Bespin.
Mara had little doubt Skywalker would be making his way to Jabba's abode soon. She had been taught that every target had a weakness. Jabba's was his taste for nubile females and Skywalker's was his loyalty to his friends.
As she gave a leaping high kick to the center of the grate she spared a glance to the far end of the throne room, towards the Hutt's trophy alcove. Amongst the mounted heads of exotic beasts was a metal slab inset with the figure of a screaming man. Inside the frozen statue was the body of Han Solo, Skywalker's ally and friend, still alive in a carbonite status.
Solo had once been a skilled and daring smuggler, who had worked under Jabba himself, until he had found himself in debt to the Hutt and cast his lot in with the scum of the Rebel Alliance. Now he was just one amongst many trophies, a symbol of the slug gangster's power and a warning to anyone else who would dare to betray him.
As much as the loathsome creature disgusted her, Mara had to admire his ability to motivate his underlings.
Mara was certain Skywalker would be unable to resist coming to his friends rescue, recklessly charging into a trap just as he had done on Bespin when Solo had been in Vader's possession. But this time he would be falling into her trap and no one escaped Mara Jade.
For a week now she had waited but had found no sign of the Jedi or his Rebel allies. So for now she would have to continue to play the part of Arica, the obedient dancing girl. And that meant putting on a show for these miscreants.
Pirouetting back to the outside of the dance floor, Mara gracefully unhooked the trailing blue sash from the metal cuffs of her costume. Clutching the cloth in her left hand and placing the other on her hip, she swung it in slow sensual circles over her head, strutting near enough but not quite close enough for them to touch her. She played with the knot of her loincloth, biting her bottom lip sensually in mock frustration to undo it.
The crowd was getting antsy and some of the gamorrean guards had to push a few back as they drunkenly attempted to rush the dance floor. Mara gave a giggle as one drunk fell at her feet, prancing over him as he desperately tried to grab her. Finally with a exaggerated gasp she pulled the knot loose with the clothing coming free in her hand.
Mara spun again tossing both saffron veils high into the air. While the eyes of her admirers were momentarily drawn up to watch the floating wisps of blue cloth, Mara fluidly slipped her net top over her head and let it fall to the ground, just in time to deftly catch both strips of her costume in her hands.
A wave of applause came as Mara posed with her arms outstretched, shoulders back and chest thrust forward, allowing their gaze to flow over her now bare curves. It takes all her composure and training to keep her face serene, appearing to bask in their attention while inside she can feel all her Sith instincts telling her to tear them apart. None of these low-lifes deserved to even look at her let alone the full-frontal show they were being treated to.
Ready to get this over with, she flows back into the sensual beat of the music skipping back and forth under the spotlight, tossing the remnants of her costume above her and catching them again and again. Her breasts bound with her, their rosey pink buds drawing the attention of every member in the growing crowd. The audience was massive now, a black mass of cheering, heckling creatures that completely surrounded her dance floor.
She could feel them all through the force, all their lust and desires, focused on her naked body. It made her sick but she could at least be thankful that one creature was currently too distracted to give her any thought.
Mara peered towards the massive dais that overlooked the courtroom and to the disgusting slug-monstrosity that was splayed across it. Jabba normally enjoyed watching each of the erotic dances that his choreographers prepared for his parties, but mercifully for Mara, he was far more interested in the encore performance that the previous dancer was giving upon his throne.
Nestled atop the Hutt's "lap", the flabby midsection that conjoined his wedge shaped head with his coiling tail, was a Togruta slave girl with skin a similar hue to Mara's hair. Her ruby red thighs lay in the greedy grasp of Jabba's malformed hands as her legs were spread helplessly apart, leaving her feet dangling in the air. And between the dancer's legs, the lips of her sex stretching obscenely to accommodate it's size, was the nightmarish and disease ridden length of of Jabba's hutthod.
Mara had not even know that Hutt's possessed any genitalia before she had entered the palace. Knowing what she knew now and after watching the gangster use it to violate and fill dozens of slave's with his copious ooze, she certainly wished she had reconsidered her choice of disguise for this mission.
Jabba had been fucking the Togruta since before Mara's dance had even begun. Her screams had long since died out and now the girl could only lay limply in her rapist's clutches, her eyes wide as they stared out into nothingness. A trail of saliva trickled from her pillowy white lips, unable to elicit anything more than few soft whimpers as Jabba drunkenly bounced her upon his unrelenting pole. Each callous thrust sent the poor slave's tits slapping against her chest and the jewelry from what remained of her dancing costume jingling and ringing along with the chain leash that attached to her collar. But none of the sounds, not even the bombastic music of Max Rebo and his troupe, could overpower the stomach-churning wet squelches that came each time Jabba's gigantic cock slammed inside the wet hole of his favored pet.
This was not a unique site for Mara as Ashala's dance routine usually came just before hers. The curvaceous creature was a talented dancer in her own right and her performance was made that more impressive by the fact the chain that leashed her to her Master's throne never left her neck. And while most of the dancers' strip shows were meant to entice the gangster's men, Ashala was meant only for Jabba who lacked the patience to take her to one of his private quarters after she aroused his appetites. While she was backstage preparing, Mara could always tell when her turn was coming soon when she heard the hapless slave's screams and moans start from the other room.
She felt little sympathy for Ashala but seeing her fucked senseless upon the doughy rolls of her owner was a good reminder to keep perspective. No matter how bad her current situation was, things could always be worse…
Mara refocused on her dance, gyrating nimbly away from the Hutt's throne before kicking one leg up high. She felt the cool hair on her damp crotch as well as countless eyes on the perfectly trimmed red triangle above her pubic mound and the ring around her recently pierced clit. Just another of the humiliations that she had been forced to endure since she was initiated into Jabba's harem.
But her performance was almost over. She fluttered the silks around her, bending backwards as her hands trailed up her flat stomach to cup her breasts and tweak her erect nipples. Then just as the final symbol crashed she tossed her costume one last time into the air, collapsing to the floor while the veils fluttered back to the ground to drape over her.
Applause erupted from all around her, hooting and jeering in a dozen different different languages. Mara stood to accept them nonetheless, clutching the cloth close to her chest as she forced a smile and bowed first towards Jabba's dais and then to her audience.
Breathing a sigh of relief that tonight's degradation was at least over, she began to make her way to pick up the discarded pieces of her costume and make room for the next dancers who would take the stage. But as she made her way towards her net top, a sudden frighteningly deep command rang out.
"BOOSKKAAA!"
Mara froze, her blood going cold at the anger in Jabba's voice. Had she performed too well and caught the Hutt's attention? Was he now calling her to join Ashala atop his fetid form? Or was he displeased and was ordering her to be punished.
She couldn't decide which fate was worse.
But as she and the rest of the crowd fearfully turned towards the throne, they quickly found the subject of their Master's ire. Jabba was continuing his assault on poor Ashala's ravaged sex but the girl now appeared to be completely unconscious, body listless and eyes closed as Jabba jerked her like a rag doll upon his cock. Her fluttering eyelids were the only clue that she was even still alive.
Jabba was livid and the Hutt lord shook her, yanked on her stripped lekku, and boomed loudly into her ear again - "BOSKKAAA!" - but there was still no response.
His patience with his exhausted sex pet was at an end, and with another bellow, he released his grip on her collar and shoved her unceremoniously away from him. With a sticky pop his cock unplugged from her loose orifice, her unconscious body falling forward on to the cushions of the throne before rolling off to land on the dance floor.
Landing on the hard ground seemed to finally jar the discarded Togruta awake. Ashala weakly made it to her hands and knees, her slime soaked figure trembling as she stared fearfully out into the crowd. She barely had time to open her mouth before Jabba roared behind her -"Sulta!" - and smashed his pudgy fist down into the control panel on his armrest.
Suddenly the floor disappeared beneath Ashala and in an instant she was swallowed up by the trapdoor.
Her scream trailed with her into the pit, followed closely by her chain leash that clattered down the tunnel after her. A few moments later Mara watched through the grate she was still standing on as she tumbled from a chute and out onto the sand and bone strewn floor of the cavern below. The crowd gathered closer around the metal bars and Jabba's dais was pushed forward to give the despot a better view of his once-favored slave.
Mara quickly scampered off the dance floor to join some of her fellow slaves who had also gathered nervously at the edge of the grate. None of them wanted to watch but Jabba required all his servants to be present during a rancor feeding. Just like with Solo's frozen carbonite prison it was another reminder of the consequences of disappointing the Hutt.
At the bottom of the pit Ashala attempted to stand, her legs weak and wobbling from both fear and the brutal fucking she had been receiving just moments before. She stood briefly but her body gave out and she fell back to the floor, sand clinging to her sweat covered curves. The courtiers laughed and cheered while Jabba stared intently down at his disgraced pet, drool dribbling down his chin and onto his still throbbing and slime coated member.
As the crowd berated her from above Ashala could only sob meekly into her hands, until a metal screeching sound made everyone go quiet. Ashala's looked up to the opposite side of the cavern with her face full of terror. Then from below came a heavy, floor shaking *THUMP* followed by another... and then another. Something massive stepped out of the shadows and the Togruta's scream filled the room.
The rancor was hungry.
The hulking beast towered over Ashala it's armor plated skin bristling with spikes, it's mouth full of teeth the size of a human torso, and long fingers tipped with razor sharp claws. Naked and unable to move the dancer was defenseless as the colossus stalked closer.
Mara had seen the beast feed several times in her week in the palace but only ever on smugglers and cut throats that had failed the Hutt. This was her first time witnessing Jabba dispose of one of his concubines this way and even Mara could not help but feel some sympathy for the luckless slave.
Ashala tried desperately to stand again but could not push herself from the ground. She could only lay with the bones of the rancor's past victims, begging for help as one massive hand reached down to scoop her from the ground. The monster brought the struggling Togruta to its mouth and she gave one last ear-piercing scream.
Mara had to look away as an audible crunch brought an end to the screams. It was followed quickly by a cacophony of cheers from the crowd, much louder than any those that had come after her performances. They were several more crunches and then silence from the pit. Arica opened her eyes to watch the rancor lumber back to it's cage, one red leg still dangling from its blood stained teeth.
Jabba's guests went back to laughing and drinking and the excitement seemed to have past. But then Mara felt the force bristle with danger. Immediately her eyes darted back and forth, trying to find the source in the mass of criminals. She saw nothing until, to her horror, she found Jabba's orange reptilian eyes focusing on her and the other slaves with his cock still twitching excitedly.
Her blood went cold again, realizing that with Ashala gone the Hutt had been left unsatisfied and with an empty space on his dais. He would be looking for her replacement and her current nudity made her feel exposed under his gaze. Mara would do anything to complete her mission but the thought of giving herself to Jabba was almost too much to bare.
She would have to do something and do it quickly.
Closing her eyes she felt out through the force to the closest curvaceous figure among the six slaves that stood near her. As she found the unlucky girl next to her, she gave an unseen force push to the servant's back. The slave, a green skinned twi'lek named Oola, gave a yelp of surprise as she stumbled forward and fell to her hand's and knees onto the dance floor.
The crowd went silent for a moment in surprise but soon continued their laughter with the twi'lek as the new subject of their ridicule. Oola stood and attempted to cover her enormous emerald breasts, which had fallen out of the tiny metal disks of her costume top, while attempting to scurry back to her place with her slave sisters. But two gamoreans materialize from the crowd to stand in her way and the dancer turned to find Jabba's staring intently at her, a wide grin on his saliva streaked lips.
"Ohhh!" He gurgled from his cavernous mouth, tongue licking the air between him and the twi'lek "A volunteer who wishes to please her Master! Come to me so I can reward your 'willingness!"
Mara could not see Oola's face but she could only imagine that she was just as afraid as Ashala had been while on the floor of the rancor's lair. The dancer shook her head and tried to back away but the the gamorreans behind her took her by the arms and lifted her off the ground. They carried her towards the throne, her legs kicking and flailing.
As the beautiful dancer began to futilely beg in twi'leki, Mara was surprised to feel a pang of guilt. The twi'lek girl had been a Hutt slave for a shorter time than even she had been, only having been presented as a gift for Jabba the day prior. Mara wasn't even sure the girl had been with a male before and now her first experience would be at the mercy of Jabba's malformed, inhuman member.
If was unfortunate but also necessary. Being leashed to Jabba's throne would certainly have hindered her ability to complete her mission.
While the slave was pushed onto the throne and up Jabba's front the crowd was once again distracted and Mara realized it was the perfect opportunity to sneak away unnoticed. She looked briefly for her top, which she had not had a chance to retrieve, but it had somehow vanished while she had watched Ashala's demise.
Knowing that she had little chance of finding it she wrapped her loincloth back around her waist and slowly made her way to the back of the crowd, moving towards the door near the band's stage that led to the slave chambers.
No one noticed her absence and she was certain she was in the clear, but the force once again warned her of danger as a red hand shot out from one the dark alcoves to pull her inside.
Mara was thrown onto the cushions that were piled around the hookah set into the floor, landing on her back as she looked up towards her attacker. Standing over her vulnerable position was a muscular Devorian, red skin marred by numerous scars and one of his the twin horns half-broken. His yellow eyes glinted lasciviously as they roamed up and down her bare body.
"Where you think you going girley?" He asked in a gravelly voice. "You think you can rile Ol' Grooley up and just leave without even a 'hello"?"
Even in her compromising position Mara could have killed him in an instant. But even with the the rest of the guests distracted she had to be careful.
"No Master." She responded demurely, eyes gazing up innocently "I was just going to freshen up before I returned to serve Lord Jabba's guests. I'm still so sweaty from my dance."
The devorian smiled, revealing a row of gleaming, pointed teeth. He crouched down on the cushions next to her and whispered, "Ol' Grooley don't don't mind if you sweaty..." He smiled even wider, dragging his sharp, black fingernails along her leg. "Ol' Grooley might even prefer it." His fingers continued until they scratched against the inside of her thigh.
Mara felt her stomach drop but she did not panic. "You will let me leave" She spoke confidently with her voice dripping with the force.
Grooley seemed to stop for a moment, eyes dilating as he stared at her. But the effect only lasted for a split-second and he returned again to smile fiendishly at her. "Ol' Grooley don't think he will do that. Ol' Grooley think girley is gonna give him a good time."
The trained assassin was stunned that the Devorian had the willpower to resist her mind-trick. Mara's mind quickly raced with possibilities of killing or incapacitating him but they were all too risky. If even one of Jabba's goons saw her then her cover would be blown and she would fail her mission and fail her Emperor.
That final though steeled her resolve and she swallowed her pride, brushing her loin cloth to the side and opening her legs. Grooley gave sharp intake of breath as he looked at the inviting pink slit that was now fully revealed to him.
"What a good girley!" He hissed pushing them further apart while he fumbled with his belt.
Mara lay back and let her mind go blank, detaching herself from her body. This was not the first time she had given herself away for the sake of her mission and she only hoped that the creature finished quickly.
But before he had even finished fishing his cock from his pants, she felt another presence enter the room. She looks up to see one of Jabba's guards standing behind Grooley, the hilt of his vibro-axe resting on the frozen Devorians shoulder.
""You paid for your time there friend?" The guard asked behind a visor made of animal hide and teeth.
"W..we..well.." The once imposing Devorian stammered "Ol' Grooley is a little short on creds but the girley really wanted Grooley's plasma… so Grooley thought…"
"No you didn't think Grooley." The masked guard interrupted moving the axe so the blade hummed directly into the alien's pointed ear. "No one touches Jabba's property without first paying for the privilege. If you don't got the creds you don't get the girl."
"Oh-Oh yes Of course!" Grooley exclaimed, sweat dripping down his forehead "Grooley just forgot...just forgot! Ol' Grooley won't ever forget again!"
The guard let the axe rest on his shoulder for a few moments longer before lifting it up and allowing the Devorian to stand. "You better not Grooley, or next time we'll be speaking to Jabba about this."
"No need! No need! Grooley don't forget!"
Grooley quickly stumbled out of the alcove as he pulled on his pants back on, leaving Mara on her mysterious savior alone in the dark corner.
In a surprisingly courteous gesture the guard offered a hand to help her up. Mara took it and when she stood she found that the hired good was offering another surprise in his other hand. Her missing top.
"Thank you so much Master!" Mara said excitedly, slipping easily into her naive slave persona "I thought I had lost it!"
"Well as much as I enjoy the view my dear, we wouldn't want you to get into trouble with any of these less chivalrous men." He replied smoothly.
She took the clothing and slipped it over her head but was unable to shake how familiar his voice sounded. It was only when she peered past the visor to the dark skin and mustache behind it, that Mara recognized her rescuer. She had just been saved by none other than Lando Calrissian.
Calrissian had been one of Solo's closest friends and rivals since the two had started smuggling together. While Solo went on to join the Rebellion, Lando ended up in politics and even became Mayor of the Cloud City of Bespin. It was he who had betrayed Solo by offering him a safe haven in his city while going behind his back to sell him out to the Empire.
After the incident between Vader and Skywalker, Mara had heard rumors that Calrissian had vacated his position on Cloud City to atone for his sins and help the Rebel's rescue Solo. Seeing him here, disguised just as she was, confirmed those rumors.
And if Calrissian was here than Skywalker wouldn't be too far behind.
Seeing an opportunity, Mara leaned forward and placed a hand on the breastplate of Lando's armor. "Well if you like what you see so much..," She whispered huskily, all her sweet innocence replaced with sultry seduction "Maybe we can find a place where you can get a more private viewing… Somewhere I can thank you properly."
The smuggler's eyes were wide behind his mask but he responded coolly none-the-less.
"Well I get off in an hour.."
Mara leaned closer "What room?" She asked running her hand down his chest.
"Room 25 on the Third level but I don't want you to feel obligated…"
She giggled and stood on her toes to give a light a kiss on his visor. "Your sweet." She pulled away and left the stunned con-man in the alcove, turning back to add one last flirtatious note. "I'll see you in an hour."
Mara smiled as she felt his gaze follow her out of the room. Out of all of Skywalker's allies Lando would be the easiest to manipulate and gain information from. She was almost looking forward to it.. But mostly because it meant she was one step closer to finishing her job and getting out of this hell hole.
As she made her way to the harem doorway she peered back one last time to Jabba's throne. While she had been busy with Grooley and Lando, the Hutt had been very busy with Oola. The unfortunate twi'lek had already been stripped of her costume and placed upon the slug's putrid pole, taking the place of Ashala who had been forgotten the moment the rancor had taken it's last bite. The dancer's lilting cries could be heard over the cheers of the spectators as the green globes of her ass were forced bounce to her Master's pleasure, her voice rising higher with each matching thrust.
For a moment, Mara imagined herself in Oola's place, saturated in the slime from her Master's body and with his untiring tongue fastened to her swinging breasts. She shivered in disgust, more glad than ever that she had made the choice to 'push' Oola into this unenviable position.
She opened the door and began the walk through the perfumed hall to the harem. As she went, she heard two final sounds before the door closed behind her. One was the last bellow from the Hutt as he finally achieved his satisfaction and the other was a particularly grief-stricken scream from Oola as she fulfilled her new purpose.
But Mara barely listened, too intent on her plans for Lando and the coming preparations for her confrontation with Skywalker.
Things were about to get interesting….