Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, and no money is being made from this. I'll put them back undamaged when I'm finished playing with them, I promise.
Title: An Artistic Nature
Summary: AU - Talon Karrde meets a young slave in Jabba's Palace, and wishes he could help. Rated M for suggestions of physical and sexual abuse, but I'm probably being over-cautious.
The boy looked exhausted. He had been kneeling there without food or water for several hours, but each time his posture slumped or his head fell forwards, the guard would strike his back with a stick and he would jerk upright again at the side of the dais. Jabba didn't even deign to look at him, hadn't spoken to him since he had been dragged there and forced into a position to suggest humility. He had fought them at first, even stood and tried to run, but each act of defiance had been easily countered by the guards. Now there was no more defiance, only a body that could barely remain conscious and upright.
Talon Karrde was intrigued. This boy had been discovered helping two other slaves to escape, but the circumstances had made it clear that he would not have been leaving with them. He had risked his own safety, and his life, without even the reward of freedom if he had been successful. It was difficult to keep focussed on business; his eyes kept sliding back to the slim form and wondering what his fate would be. Jabba was not known for his mercy to his slaves, it was likely that he would be killed slowly and painfully to serve as a warning to others.
By evening, the feast was in full swing, and the boy was still kneeling there, the guards having to hit him with increasing frequency now. Several of Jabba's slaves were paraded in front of him to choose from - he had intended to simply decline, but now another idea occurred to him.
"You are most gracious to offer, but I fear I am too rough with my playthings. I would hate to damage another's valuable property. But... I cannot help but notice another little plaything of yours, which perhaps you wouldn't mind getting... damaged?" He gestured to indicate the kneeling boy. "He's a pretty little thing, and the sight of him there on his knees..." he let his voice trail off.
Jabba laughed as he replied. The translator droid gave his reply as "Perhaps the boy has one more useful night's work in him before I feed him to the Rancor then. You may have him until morning."
The guards dragged him along the corridor to Karrde's room and dropped him on the floor, barely conscious. Karrde grinned and thanked them, adding "I'm sure I'll have him more awake in no time" with a leer. Once they were gone, he swiftly poured a goblet of wine from a flagon that had been left for him earlier, and managed to trickle a little into the boy's mouth. He coughed and choked - hopefully if the guards were still within earshot they would misinterpret the sounds - before blinking up at Karrde in alarm and trying to pull away from him.
"Easy there. I don't mean you any harm. Water would be better but there's none, so it's wine or nothing I'm afraid. Luckily it's not too strong. Here, try a little more." The boy allowed Karrde to put the goblet to his mouth again, and drank a few sips. "Good boy. Slow and steady. I assume you know a bit about dehydration living on this dustball?" The boy nodded. That would help. He had been prepared to grab the wine away if the young slave had tried to drink too quickly, since his stomach would simply rebel and make things worse.
They sat there on the floor for perhaps half an hour, with the boy sipping slowly at the liquid and gradually becoming stronger, until he finally spoke. "Thank you. I don't think I would have lasted much longer. But how did you convince Jabba to let you help me?"
"I... didn't. He thinks you are still suffering, just in a different way. I had the choice of his slaves, and I picked you - let him think I was planning to be rough with you. We... may have to do a bit of play-acting before long, I suspect the guards will report back to him about what they overhear, or rather what they don't, so we'll have to convince them I'm giving you a hard time." The boy raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, but didn't seem shocked at the suggestion.
In fact, after a little more thought, he replied "We would need to be convincing. In fact, the best act is when you aren't really acting."
Karrde was startled at the implication, and it clearly showed in his face as the boy went on "You know what I am. Believe me, even if it only means I live till morning, I'll let you 'act' as rough as you want. I've got used to taking life one day at a time around here."
"I genuinely don't want to hurt you though, I only want the guards to leave us to it. Or rather, not to it. You know what I mean."
The boy grinned. "I've never had to convince anyone before. Ok, we can make it mostly pretend. But not completely, unless you're an amazing actor. Deal?"
"Deal"
"How about you spank me? Plenty of sound for little actual pain. If you could groan from time to time like you're getting off on it, that would be good too."
"OK. I guess I could do that."
Luke gestured to him to sit down on a low chair, and then draped himself across his thighs. The first few slaps across his buttocks were rather tentative, and he squirmed round to look Karrde in the eye. "Think about what will happen to me if you don't make this convincing" he suggested "Believe me, anything you do will be a delight compared with Jabba's ideas of fun. Make it as hard as you like, and don't mind if I cry out - the guards will want to hear me suffer. And remember to groan."
Karrde tried again, flinching as he brought his hand down hard on the slim buttocks with a loud crack. After the first two or three, the boy began to cry out from time to time. But since he wasn't trying to move away, Karrde assumed it was at least partly an act, and continued. After a few more, the boy wriggled again, and got his arm under himself. Karrde didn't understand at first, until the hand wormed its way to his groin and began to rub at him through the front of his pants. He let out a loud moan at the sensation, then realised the young slave was determined to add the other dimension to the sound effects. He allowed himself to moan and grunt unrestrainedly from then on, while continuing to spank the taut buttocks, though it was difficult to focus. A sudden recognition that his arm was moving faster and faster made him realise that he was no longer exactly pretending, but a whispered "Yes" from the slave reassured him. He let go of any attempt at control and allowed his grunts and shouts to get louder and more frequent as the boy stimulated him until he came with a loud groan.
The boy wriggled off his lap and smiled up at him, then deliberately sat down hard onto the solid floor and began to sob out loud at the painful sensation. Karrde's immediate reaction was to reach out and comfort him, but he cried out "No! Please..." and wriggled away, continuing to sob loudly. After a few minutes the sounds died away, and he shifted to stand close to Karrde, saying softly in his ear "Well, assuming they were listening, that ought to have given them their money's worth for now!" before moving across to sprawl comfortably on the bed, laying on his side, and patting the bed beside him invitingly.
Karrde moved over to join him, so that they could continue to talk quietly, then winced at the creak of bedsprings beneath him. But, he rationalised, it would hardly be a surprising sound in the circumstances.
They spent the next hour or so in very quiet conversation. Karrde learned that the young slave's name was Luke, and that despite his very youthful appearance he was already 16 years old. He had been a slave for the past three years, but his original owner had been more interested in owning pretty things than in making much use of them, and had collected quite a number of young slaves, so his life had been reasonably comfortable until he had been lost to Jabba as part of a gambling debt. He gave little detail about the last few months, but Karrde read between the lines that as well as having to satisfy Jabba's own desires, he had been given to guests on many occasions. However what he lived in fear of was being given to the guards, a punishment which often awaited slaves who displeased Jabba - he seemed to consider being eaten by the Rancor as a more merciful fate. Karrde considered this in silence. He had seen a dozen or more guards around the palace. And presumably when Jabba gave them a slave they would all join in, to please Jabba even if they had no particular desire for what was on offer. It would be a prolonged and painful way to die.
He was more determined than ever that he should get the young man away from here to safety, but he was no closer to working out how to achieve that aim. He had arrived here in an open speeder, which gave no cover to conceal an escaping slave. And there was no way for the boy to get away from the palace to be picked up out of sight. He quietly, and regretfully, explained his thinking to the boy, who listened thoughtfully.
"The only way to leave is with Jabba's blessing" he replied "You would have to convince him that he wants me to leave with you. And since he really wants to punish me for what I did, that would mean convincing him that you would keep me in pain. He would sell me to you if he was sure of that, he's always happy to make a profit, but at the moment my value is in suffering, as an example to others." The boy considered for a moment "If you wanted him to sell me, the time to ask would be now, late at night. He'll be at his most relaxed and happy, assuming he made a profitable deal with you earlier?" Karrde nodded, the deal had been advantageous for both of them. "Well then, the only thing is how to convince him you have hobbies which I won't enjoy. I don't suppose I could get you to break one of my arms or legs?" Karrde blanched "No, thought not. And presumably any serious cutting is out too?"
Karrde felt he should apologise "I know you think I'm too squeamish here, but I just don't think I could act like I was enjoying that, or that I planned to do it again on a regular basis. I would look too worried and guilty to convince anyone."
"Better be something with lots of less serious injuries then. Do you have anything interesting in your luggage?"
Karrde frowned. "If 'interesting' translates as 'kinky' then I seriously doubt it. But you're welcome to look through my stuff and see if it inspires you!"
His main luggage was, as expected, very lacking in 'interest'. However he had also brought in the small toolbox from the speeder, which provided a sharp knife, cable ties, a piece of plastic sheeting, marker pens, and powdered pigments, all of which Luke placed on the bedside table. "Any good at art?" he asked.
An hour or so, and many anguished screams, later, Karrde let himself out of the guest room and asked the guards to take him to Jabba. He looked as he felt, hot, sweaty and flustered, and he hoped Jabba had a good imagination. But Luke was clear that he had to ask to buy the slave now, in the middle of the night. Jabba wouldn't go back on the deal in the morning once it was made.
His request was stammered, flustered, and apologetic. The boy was so beautiful, he couldn't do justice to him in a single night. Would Jabba consider parting with him, so that Karrde could take him home and spend more time with him?
A guard was sent to check on the boy while Karrde remained in the throne room. Time stretched interminably. Karrde pictured the guard checking with those in the corridor - what had they heard? had they been convinced? - then presumably going into the guest room to see for themselves what condition the boy was in - was the scene right? had they missed something that would show he didn't really mean Luke any harm? Finally the guard returned, ashen-faced, and whispered at length to Jabba.
Jabba eyed him for a long time before speaking. The droid translated as "I didn't realise you had such an artistic nature."
Karrde allowed his eyes to glaze a little as if in happy contemplation as he responded "It's so hard to find a suitable canvas. It has to inspire the whole work, you see. And it's such a tricky medium, I can't just go over it if I get something wrong. It can be days or even weeks before I can re-do a section. I fear I shall have to re-do everything I have done so far anyway - I don't think I had the light as I should have done. Do you have any salt handy? That speeds it up of course."
It was hard to judge the expression on Jabba's face, but he seemed pleased at the prospect of Karrde's plans for his disobedient slave boy, and they soon agreed a price. Double what any slave was worth of course, but it was hardly surprising that he would overcharge for an artist's 'muse'. The deal concluded, a slave was sent to bring back a bowl of salt, which Karrde accepted eagerly.
He returned swiftly to the room and looked at the scene approvingly. The cuts had been shallow and would heal quickly enough, even without the salt. The marker pen lines making the patterns would wash off fairly soon, and he had been sparing with those on the boy's face anyway. The plastic sheet beneath the arm he had 'started' and the cable ties holding the slave/canvas spread-eagled to the bed frame added to the effect without actually hurting Luke. He cut through them quickly and explained, loudly enough for the guards to hear if they were listening "Jabba has let me buy you so I'll be able to re-do that part of the pattern just as soon as it heals up. This will sting a bit" and then he rubbed a handful of salt from the bowl onto one of the deeper cuts. Luke's howls echoed through the room and into the corridor. If the guards were asked for any further corroboration, that would suffice, Karrde was sure of it.
Finally he wrapped a torn shirt around the injured arm, and lay down on the bed with his arms around the young slave - no-one would be surprised if he stopped work on his project for now, and since Jabba was convinced that he would continue to use the boy as his canvas for weeks to come there would be no difficulty in taking him away from this place in the morning. He smiled and settled down to sleep, with Luke's blond curls tucked under his chin.