The sand was growing hotter and hotter as the twin suns grew higher in the sky, and only a huge, passing shadow, thronged by several smaller ones, delayed the temperature.
The shadow was headed for the Dune Sea, and in particular, to the Pit of Carkoon, where the massive subterranean creature known as the Sarlaac nested, keeping its toothy, tentacled palate upturned to the sky, waiting for any unlucky desert-dweller to come tumbling down to their fate—and the Sarlaac's own fodder.
The shadow came from a massive, metal-hulled Sail Barge, and surrounding it were several land skiffs, each carrying a small cluster of spectators…except for one, rather crowded, where two men and a shaggy Wookie remained with their arms shackled at their waists
The trip to the Pit of Carkoon was not one of spectacle or scrutiny, but rather quite another intent; for those three shackled prisoners were infiltrators and troublemakers; they had crossed (and in one case, double-crossed) a powerful gangster known as Jabba, an obese Hutt, and he was going to see to their execution by the Sarlaac.
Han Solo had been a former pirate and smuggler, and had dealt with Jabba numerous times; he'd owed an increasing debt to the Hutt, and after numerous false promises of payback, he'd fallen in with the Rebellion and somehow thought that that would've given him some kind of diplomatic immunity.
But alas, this "ultimate smuggler" had been caught by the Empire and encased in Carbonite; apparently, this had just been a test to see if the same effect could be reproduced on another Rebel named Luke Skywalker, a Jedi knight whom had fallen in league with Han. A Carbon-frozen Han had meanwhile been brought to Jabba on a bounty, and had for a time made a nice piece of artwork in his gallery. The Wookie, known as Chewbacca, had been an accomplice to both of them, and had been part of a rescue mission to break Han out of Jabba's mighty Palace. Well, they were all now on one of the land skiffs, and they were going to get theirs.
Luke and Chewie were not alone in the rescue attempt, however. Jabba had discovered another in their midst—caught right in the process of unfreezing Han, in fact; but when she had been unmasked, Jabba found her to be most convenient to the situation at hand.
Jabba's perverse taste for human (or at least humanoid) women was widely known, and the subject of much gossip and distaste among his fellows and peers. Anyone who had ever set foot in his Palace knew of the things he did to the women kept chained and collared by his side, and so it was little wonder that he took extra delight in this particular captive. For she was Princess Leia Organa, the last surviving member of the royal family of Alderaan, a key member of the Rebellion (and thus of particular interest to the Empire)…and the lover of Han Solo.
Jabba had wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation and exploiting her gender, taking away both her clothes and her dignity through repulsive acts of lecherous debauchery and degradation. It had taken some time, but after a couple of weeks, she'd eventually broken to his will, and had even begun to begrudgingly call him Master. Soon enough, she'd learn that she would have no hope, no future, save for what she may do next for her slimy Master—and to start that, Jabba was going to have her witness the death of her friends.
Aboard the Sail Barge, Leia shuddered and retched, but somehow managed to keep the squirming feeling in her gorge down—which was even more nauseating to think about than the actual cause of the squirming feeling itself.
She was weak on her feet, even as she leaned against the soft, cushioned mass she'd been held so closely to for the past several minutes. She coughed again; the gold frames of her slave outfit's bikini cups caught the dim lights above and cast flickers of glare into her eyes with the bounce of her breasts. The powerful grip on her exposed midsection lightened, and she pulled slowly away.
Nearby, Jabba cooed something in his booming, phlegmy voice, then licked his lips, the wet slurps and squelches, now horribly familiar, filling Leia's ears. She listened carefully and waited for him to finish, knowing one word could redefine an entire sentence when it came to Huttese; she ultimately heard, "Did you enjoy your frog, my pretty?"
Leia realized suddenly that the squirming had stopped. Jabba had been right; humans could digest the things very easily. That little bit of info had made the wet, violently thrashing, and unspeakably terrified-sounding struggle she'd had to go through no less disgusting, however, and she shuddered again, trying to use one of Luke's mind-clearing techniques to not think too much about it. Still, it was over—that was all that mattered.
Leia started to pull away, but Jabba tugged back on her chain, his chunky bicep inflating as he moved it past the doughy rolls that constituted as his "shoulder," and Leia's lips parted, baring her teeth as she let him shove her half-naked body back up against his slimy bulk.
"Let's give you a reward," the Hutt purred, his breath rank and hot and disturbingly humid upon her face. Leia felt him slide his hand down her back, onto her butt, in order to push her lower body closer to his huge belly. She watched him lower his other, chain-wielding hand, heard—and felt, upon her bare thigh, making her shiver—the cold metal links as they slackened. There was a faint maneuvering of cloth as he worked his hand past her skirt.
Leia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as Jabba began.

After he was done, Jabba called a guard over. Leia, her heart still racing, turned and squinted through sweat-stung eyes at the Gamorrean guardthat stopped at the base of the throne. Through a series of grunts, the pig-faced guard asked, "What are your wishes, my lord?"
"Bring my slave a drink." Jabba said. Leia turned to the Hutt; she then gasped as he suddenly removed his fingers from her.
"As you wish my lord," replied the guard, sounding slightly confused as he turned and lumbered away.
"Master…why are you giving me a drink?" Leia asked, confused and more than a little disturbed at the thought of where this might be headed.
"I think you deserve one after fulfilling my wishes," Jabba said.
"For...doing this?" Leia asked in a tiny voice.
Jabba licked her face, and Leia suppressed a shiver. "A reward for eating the frog," he said.
Hadn't…what Jabba had just done to her, hadn't that been reward enough?
Hutts were not Force-sensitive, but it was still uncannily like Jabba had read her thoughts. "That was just you fulfilling your duty, my pet." Leia blushed and turned away.

Suddenly, a thought entered her mind…and it wasn't her own. It was the second time that day that she'd heard that voice so close in her head; it was that of Luke, somewhere outside, on one of the skiffs. Don't worry, he "said." I've taken care of everything. Leia questioned both the message and his casual, confident tone most highly; how could he have taken care of anything, much less "everything?" He had been caught! Chewie was being held captive, for Force's sake! And Han—
Tears stung Leia's eyes, and she cast her eyes down.
Just stay alive, Luke's voice said
Leia took a deep breath. At this point, staying alive was her only choice.
After a moment, she gingerly twisted herself away from Jabba's bulk—he wasn't holding her any longer, but she didn't want to make a big show of enjoying the freedom of having space between their bodies.
"I'm sorry," the guard squealed as she came hobbling back to the throne, holding a tall, green-glass goblet, the dark red of the Hutt's favorite wine splashing around with the guard's unsteady stride and grip.
Leia had been allowed to sit down before Jabba—he preferred her to lie back against him, no doubt so he could keep both a voyeuristic and a watchful eye upon her—but was managing to keep straight up, so only the small of her back came in contact with Jabba's filthy flesh. From here, she couldn't yet see the goblet, for the guard's porcine features were only just visible above the wooden armrest and illuminated foodbowl that Jabba slumped against. A frog swam by in that bowl, and Leia shivered and looked away.
"What?" Jabba asked, and the clink of metal upon metal made Leia's gaze snap to herside; the chain wasn't taut, but Jabba had pulled on it just the same. She was getting better about noticing when the Hutt yanked on it; she had had enough of being caught off-guard and painfully choked by the collar. Though she despised the image it no doubt created in many a perverse mind—one of obedience, even enthusiasm—she'd far sooner willingly press herself up against Jabba and get the shameful taskover with, rather than be subjected to a series of painful asphyxiations first.
"I'm sorry," the guard repeated, and hefted the goblet (which Leia did now see). Jabba reached over the armrest and took it.
"What for?"
"One of the new droids is still training with EV-9D9," the guard replied. "It's fine with pouring wine from the caskets, but when I asked it to make a drink for you, it didn't seem to know what it was doing."
Leia sighed a small breath of relief at this. She had to wonder just which droid was doing this, and if it deserved a reward…if she ever got out of here.
Jabba said nothing.
"I…I had him pour you some wine," the guard added.
"Fine," Jabba finally said. Leia couldn't see his face, and didn't dare volunteer his attention by turning to look back at him, but she could tell he was annoyed. Behind and above her, Leia heard the loud slurping sounds of his tongue as he drank from the goblet, then felt the vibration of his belly as the liquid passed through his innards.
There was another clink of the chain, and Leia turned to see Jabba looking directly down at her. He licked his lips, sending little droplets of slime (some discolored with the dark of the wine) tumbling down his chins. "Da eitha," he said, and wetly belched. Leia groaned knowing what was to come.