Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. of Star Wars are the property of the Walt Disney Company. I am in no way associated with Disney, any creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. Some descriptions of characters and timelines that previously existed may be altered to fit the vision of this story.

T/W: Disturbing scenes to follow that include physical abuse. Please be warned and aware of your triggers if you choose to proceed.

Chapter 1: Sold to the Highest Bidder

Elaine


"I can't," I gasped. "Please, I can't do it anymore."

I pulled against the restraints as the man hovering over me continued to tattoo my skin, pressing the gyrating needles firmly against the underside of my breast.

My eyes fluttered as I gave in to the pain that washed over my body.

"We're losing her," one of the men declared, smacking the side of my face with his hand.

"Good, let her," the other grunted as he continued his work on my flesh.

Please, let me go, I cried as my head lolled to one side. I let the waves of pain rock me into unconsciousness; I didn't want to feel pain anymore. As I dreamed, floating in my mind, I thought about how desperate I was to rid myself of all feeling. To live as an empty shell, without pride, heartache, or disappointment. It's easier to live a repulsive life if you can't feel it.

I couldn't help myself from being afraid when I was taken as a child, smuggled to a new planet, and sold to a courtesan house. I was unable to conceal my anguish as I realized I would be sold as livestock to a man that would inevitably rape me for the rest of my life. And I could never dismiss the overwhelming sense of shame that reminded me I was comparable to the lowest-worth droids on the market.

I gave up hope for a better life when I learned what it meant to be a prospective courtesan. There was no future for me anymore. Those of us who lived in the courtesan house didn't have the luxury to care about things such as the sprouting war in the outside world; nothing out there concerned us anymore.

Our house was located in the underbelly of Coruscant, where everything illegal ran rampant even under the New Republic's watchful eye. Our house owner, known as Mama Maeve, was a fickle creature. She was tall and slender as if she hadn't eaten in hundreds of years, and had a temper that could instill fear in an Imperial general. You had to earn her favor by working off your debt and selling at auction for her profit.

Maeve's courtesans were famous in the underworld. They were recognizable, too. When a new courtesan was announced, her virginity and life were placed up for auction in spectacular pageantry. Once the courtesan was sold to the highest bidder, she was marked as permanent property of her new owner. The girl would be tattooed with bright, vibrant patterns all over her hips, back, and between her breasts; the designs becoming synonymous with Mama Maeve's courtesans. The final mark is the barcode that is stamped behind her ear, solidifying the purchase. Whenever a girl was sold, her screams would echo through the house all night as they scored her flesh, keeping me awake as I awaited my turn.

The first year was the hardest. I fought back, rebelled against Mama, and was punished often. As a child of the house, I was responsible for chores such as laundry, cleaning, and helping our 'big sisters,' the courtesans who represented our house. But I was a quick learner. If you do your sister's laundry without complaint, you won't be spanked. Clean the floors without spitting on them as Mama passed, and you wouldn't be starved that night.

Pheme saved me from Mama's house. Well, she made it tolerable. She was a gorgeous girl with bright blue eyes and ice-white hair. Even my heart melted when she smiled. Why she picked me to take under her wing, I will never know; perhaps because she pitied me, I was never good at making friends. Or maybe it was because she saw a bit of herself in me: a spiteful, naive little creature that refused to give up. She was popular among potential suitors; many men both rich and poor begged Mama during the years leading up to her auction for special privileges, but Mama wouldn't budge. She knew what treasure she held, and she was going to make sure that it paid.

She became the only family that I ever knew. Late at night, I would sneak into her room when Mama had gone to sleep, careful not to step on floorboards that creaked. Pheme would welcome me into her bed and run her comb my hair, brushing it tenderly while telling me stories about men who lived in stations amongst the stars.

"They don't really live up there, do they?" I asked, dumbfounded.

She chuckled as she pulled at a knot in my hair. "Yes! They have huge ships that hang in the sky like a cloud in space," she explained.

"I don't believe you," I scoffed.

"You can trust me, Laina," she held my shoulders and leaned me back against her as she hugged me.

My real name was Elaine. Most people at the house called me 'little brat,' 'child,' or whatever other insults they could come up with. Pheme only ever called me Laina, and I wanted her to be the only person to refer to me as such. Pheme made everything bearable at Mama's house; she would cover my ears whenever someone was getting their tattoos, she taught me everything I needed to know about how to make a man happy and promised me she would always be there for me.

But just as we had created our own secret life between the two of us, it was all taken away from me again. The night of her auction came quicker than I had expected. Pheme, ever the optimistic of the two of us, was riddled with excitement at the potential of her new future.

"What do you think?" She swirled her auction dress around on the hanger, letting me touch the skirt. I was almost afraid to, fearful that the beading would break under my fingers.

It was a gorgeous navy blue with sapphire gems encrusted all over the corset and skirt. The bodice hugged her figure tightly as I laced her up in it, fitting perfectly. The train flowed behind her as her legs parted the two slits down the front. The bust mimicked the shape of her chest, plunging between her breasts as if to display the skin primed for her future tattoos.

"It's stunning," I breathed. I helped her with her hair, pinning pieces in place.

"Maybe he will be a rich general or a noble!" She fantasized about her potential suitors.

"Are you nervous?" I looked at her in the mirror.

She hesitated, her eyes lingering off in the distance. After a beat, her grin returned to her lips as she made eye contact with me in the glass. "Only nervous about tripping, but as long as that doesn't happen, I consider it a good night!"

I was in pure awe of her optimism— though, I had always wondered if she was putting on a brave face for me. Either way, it worked to pacify my dread.

Before she climbed up on the stage I grabbed her arm and pulled her into a tight hug. She squeezed me back, resting her cheek against my shoulder.

"Don't trip," I teased.

When she drew back from my embrace, I saw the faintest hint of tears in her eyes. Whether that was from the thought of missing me or the fear of being bought by a stranger, I would never get to know.

I watched from the wings as she stepped onto the stage for her grand reveal. I hid in the shadows, my eyes reflecting the sparkles that danced off her gown as Pheme paraded on the stage. The main floor was cramped with people straining to get a good look at her.

The bidding started and went on for an hour before Mama declared the winner. He was a man that looked as if he must've owned one of those large, fancy star-ships Pheme always talked about. He had guards surrounding him, who brought a large case of credits up to Mama's podium. He was handsome, tall, with dark hair and eyes that were locked on Pheme from across the room. Looked like she got her rich noble after all.

I never believed in any religions or deities. But at that moment I silently prayed among the curtains and stage lights that he would be a good master to Pheme. I prayed that I would get to see her again after she was escorted off the stage and into the back room. I also selfishly prayed that I wouldn't hear her screams of pain and suffering echo through the walls later that night.

The silence as Pheme received her tattoos was the only prayer of mine that was ever answered. Her new owner moved Pheme in with him immediately and permanently. The house remained surprisingly quiet when I crept through the hallway and into Pheme's room. I eased the door closed and padded to her bed, slipping under the covers. Her pillow smelled like her, fresh citrus flowers, as I pressed my cheek into it. That was the first night that I spent entirely alone in Mama Maeve's famous courtesan house. It was the last night that I allowed myself to care about the future that would never be mine.


"Hurry up, girl!" Mama spanked a little one as she scampered away. "Don't you see Elaine is busy?"

"She's alright," I replied as I sat in front of the mirror that was once Pheme's.

When Pheme moved in with her master she left all of her things behind. I became territorial like a feral creature as some of the other girls swooped in to scrounge up whatever they could scavenge. Mama punished me that night without supper for giving one of the girls a black eye, but in the end, I got to move into Pheme's room. One missed meal was worth it.

My stomach churned as Mama brought in the dress she picked for me, hanging it on the door. Pheme's gorgeous jeweled gown was forever engraved in my mind, almost making me hesitant to see what mine would look like.

As I slipped into the gown I studied myself in the mirror, trying to recognize the girl standing in front of me. For some reason that I couldn't put my finger on, I was disappointed.

Perhaps it was the color; I never favored red. Or maybe it was the shimmering sequins that covered the fabric and replaced the gems carved in my mind that made my heart sigh in defeat. There was no slit up the leg, no gorgeous train that flowed behind me as I walked. The straps held on tightly to my shoulders to support the plunging neckline to the top of my navel; the only thing remotely resembling Pheme's dress. My legs were squeezed together at the knees with just enough give at the bottom as it flared out for me to shuffle cautiously in the gravity-defying heels.

"You should be excited," Mama came to the door, her eyes lit up like the neon signs outside in the alley. "You have plenty of suitors lining up at the door!"

I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I forced a grin and nodded in acknowledgment. I reached out and grasped Pheme's comb, running it through my hair as I forced the tears back down into my chest.

No, I insisted. You will not cry. You are not nervous, because you don't care about it, I lied to myself.

I finished off my look by picking a few pieces of hair in the front and pinning them back. Mama began to bustle around the house, yelling commands at the little girls that whispered and stared into my room. Maybe they, too, were struggling to come to terms that this would be their fate someday.

"It's time, my dear!" she exclaimed.

I thought I might drop onto the floor and hold onto the bed frame for dear life. I didn't want to leave; I wished to stay here, with my memories of Pheme in the safety of Mama's house. I wanted to vomit.

Driving my legs to shuffle forward I stumbled down the hallways to the backstage area. I peaked out from the curtains where I once watched Pheme break auction history.

"35,000 credits!" Mama had boasted at the end of her auction. "That is a new house record, my darling!"

I never got a chance to look at the potential suitors as Mama scolded me before stepping up to her podium.

"Elaine! Stop your damned daydreaming, get up here!" she hissed under her breath.

All of the noise suddenly turned into a loud ringing in my ear as Mama beckoned me onto the stage, my pulse pounding in my throat. I forced myself to remember how to breathe as I stepped out from backstage, the lights blinding me.

My mouth was dry, my palms sweaty as I carefully stepped across the platform. The gown swished around my ankles as I carefully walked out to the center, the sequins casting reflections around the room.

Mama opened the bidding just as my eyes adjusted to the lights. I scanned the audience, staring into the faces of those who looked at me like I was fresh meat. Only a few hands raised to place their bids.

No, no, no! I panicked in my head. A low bid meant a cheap owner and a cheap owner meant a miserable existence for a courtesan.

I heard Mama call out the next amount, breaking the silence. "Do I have 15?"

The spectators remained still and my stomach began to churn. I swallowed hard, begging for someone to bid again. Please, please, Pheme, help me, I prayed.

"Oh, come now, Lads, do I have 15,000 credits for this fine young lady?"

My legs were shaking now as I forced tears back. Don't you dare cry, I scolded myself.

"You have 50," a man responded smoothly from the back of the room.

"You what?" Mama stared, dumbfounded. I, too, was rendered speechless as I tried to make out who made the bid.

"I said, I offer 50,000 credits for her, madam," he repeated evenly as he stood.

Thank you, Pheme.

No one else in the room said a word as they stared in disbelief.

"Well, yes, uh," Mama was clearly at a loss for words. "We shall close the bidding at that, then— Congratulations on your winnings, sir!" she beamed and applauded, the house following suit as I fumbled to the edge of the stage.

It's over, I grieved, my breath quickening as my throat tightened. It's all over for you, now.

I tried to get a better look at him as he brought a case to Mama at the podium. Before I could make out any distinguishing features my view of him was broken by Mama's sons.

"Come with us, miss Elaine," the elder brother said as he grabbed onto my arm, leading me toward the room that I'd never dare look into as a child. My gaze lingered on my new owner as Mama's eyes lit up while he introduced himself and handed over her earnings. The younger brother shut the door behind us, leaving me to wonder who now owned me. And I had plenty of time to theorize, too, as I prepared myself to be marked for life.


How Pheme didn't scream the night she got her tattoos, I will never know. But I know that I am not as strong as her.

The brothers brought me into the back room and instructed me to take off my dress. A shiny, metal table resided in the center of the room while the white, bare walls reflected the blinding fluorescent lighting.

"We won't restrain you if we don't have to," the elder brother said as the younger brother prepared tools on a rolling tray. "But when it gets too much we will have to hold you down," he admitted. I made a mental note that he hadn't said 'if,' but 'when.'

I couldn't find words to respond with. I felt his hands pulling down on the zipper that ended at the top of my ass. I quickly brought my hands to my breasts, covering myself as best as I could. It was cold in that room, goosebumps flooded my skin as they steered me to the table.

"Front side first," the eldest commanded as the younger brother helped me lay on the metal surface.

The door behind us opened with a metallic creak and Mama stuck her head inside to motion for the younger brother.

"He's here," she whispered and the brother stepped outside to meet with, who I assumed was my owner, to discuss the tattoo design.

Please, Pheme, I begged as I lay on the table, my eyes blinded by the fluorescents that lit every part of my naked skin. Please let it be beautiful.

The younger brother came back in and briskly strode to the eldest, whispering into his ear the plans for my marks.

"Are you sure?" he clarified.

"That's what he said," the youngest shrugged.

My heart began to pound in my ears again. There is nothing you can do, I told myself.

"Alright," he sighed as he sat on a rolling stool next to me, wearing some magnifying goggles that made his eyes look twice as big.

"Let's get started," he murmured before he dipped the tip of the gun into the ink on the table. He turned it on with a loud buzz and I felt every muscle in my body tense under its ominous pitch.

I forced my eyes to remain locked on the ceiling above me. I couldn't bear to look either man in the eye as I lay on the table like an animal ready to be butchered. The first time he pressed the needle into my thigh I managed to keep my response to a blink. Each time after that was another blink as he dragged the tattoo gun up my skin. Slowly, the blink turned into a twitch, which later evolved into a wince. By that time, he had only finished my right thigh and hip.

As the minutes trickled into a few hours, I began sweating despite the cold, dry air around me. He had finished both of my hips and had moved onto my chest, my abdomen tightening as the pain shot through my torso.

I started to bite my tongue as he ran the gun between my breasts. The skin there was tender, soft and full of nerve endings. The pain from the gun now reminded me of a time I had burned my hand while making tea for Mama; at this point, I would rather burn my arm and run a fork over the wound than finish the tattoos.

My first audible response came in the form of a yelp as he pulled a line under my right ribs that framed my breast. The older brother didn't acknowledge me in any way. Instead, he moved right into another line as he pressed the buzzing needle into my flesh.

When he transitioned to my left breast I tasted blood in my mouth. I had bit into my tongue while trying to keep myself still as my body trembled, small beads of sweat rolled down my forehead.

Please, Pheme, I pleaded. Make it stop.

As he continued to finish my chest piece I began to cry, the younger brother held my shoulders down as I shook.

"I can't," I gasped finally. "Please, I can't do it anymore."

Neither brother answered my pleads, preferring to ignore me. He dug the needles into my skin, dragging them back and forth as he filled in the shape.

"Please!" I screamed, my chest tightening under the pain. "Please, it hurts too much," I threatened to sit up off the table, anything I could do to reduce the pain.

"That's it," he snapped and set the gun down with a clank onto the tray. He stood up and grabbed my feet as I writhed on the table, pulling on my ankles and wrapped them in restraints.

"No, no! Stop it!" I wailed, tugging with all my might but to no avail. The younger brother continued to hold my shoulders down as the eldest secured my wrists into restraints at my sides.

"I can't do anymore, please!" I cried, sobbing now. My chest throbbed, my hips and thighs ached painfully as sweat coated my body.

"Almost done here," he muttered as he sat back down to work. He picked up the tattoo gun from the cart and pressed against me as he leaned in again.

The pain this time brought stars to my eyes as my vision grew hazy. I wanted to give in to the pain, let it take me away from feeling each sensation. The throbbing from all over my body mixed together in waves that crashed into me repeatedly like rocks in an ocean. I felt my eyelids begin to sag as I strained to stay awake, everything in the room beginning to blur.

"We're losing her," the younger brother announced, giving my cheek a slight slap.

"Good— it's easier when they do," the eldest snorted.

Pheme, please, help me, I prayed as my heavy eyelids closed while the tattoo gun's piercing hum echoed in my skull. Pheme's face appeared, her bright blue eyes, her long white hair, and her hand reaching out in my mind as the darkness swallowed me.