"Unh…" Leia gasped, turning her head away, feeling the brush of her ponytail along the side of her breast; this area was somehow miraculously clean, despite the filthy flesh against which the rest of it rubbed and heaved. Jabba was clutching her close, her legs forced apart by his hand as he worked her into the final stages of this insalubrious coitus, the meridian of his massive belly clutched between Leia's buckling knees.

It was the third time that morning that Jabba had taken her. He had stripped her of everything but her armlet, bracelet and her boots, and had promptly set to work on her with his tail before later switching to his fingers. It had been a painful, noisy affair, but Leia had begun to suspect that perhaps a reluctant, disgusted submission was indeed far easier than putting up a struggle; the Hutt tended to be more methodical during such cooperation, and worked tirelessly until she came to her shuddering, moaning climaxes. What always struck Leia as odd was the fact that, as biology intended, Jabba the Hutt received no actual sexual stimulation from any of this; simply put, he didn't cum. (Looking back, Leia would ultimately to admit that this was an image that she was glad she never had to witness). His was apparently of a mental, perhaps egotistical, lust; he seemed to literally get off not so much on the sex as the power it represented—the power he held over her (and all his other slaves), over her body, and through that, her will. Although it would still be a few days before Leia would learn to call him—to think of him as-her Master, she had to admit she was impressed with his efforts. She would have to be careful as to how much she let him dominate her; to do play along too much, too soon, would be to challenge his securities and arouse suspicion…but too much resistance could have far worse consequences.

Still, he had her now, and with only seconds left to hold back her bodily response to his exploring, engaging fingers and occasional slurping tongue, she let him have his ways with her. Her body shuddering, her shoulders hunching up, her slimy breasts heaving and rubbing against his doughy rolls, she balled her fists where they were pressed into his flabs and she cried aloud as she came, throwing her head back, moisture leaking down Jabba's hand and between her thighs as she rode his fat belly and the fat digits still working within her. After a moment, he stopped moving them, and soon after Leia's bucking hips came to a halt.

Jabba withdrew his fingers, making Leia gasp, and she shuffled her feet closer together, not quite ready to settle back on them and step back. She remained propped up against him, even as he removed his other hand from her back. After a few seconds, she took a cautious step backwards (her inner thighs aching sorely), and was relieved when she did not lose balance. She pulled fully away and glimpsed down at her naked body—and flinched.

Her front was a mess of slime, stroked and smeared across the fronts of her breasts, as well as upon the upper majority of her belly. Areas here and there were lumpy with overspills of the Hutt's saliva, which was coagulating in the open air; perhaps the difference in flesh resulted in the slime drying quicker? Leia wasn't sure, nor did she particularly care; all she did care about in this case was once Jabba's slime was left upon her flesh, it dried quickly out, and was easily rubbed, brushed, or occasionally peeled off. This was still fresh, though, so she'd have to give it a couple of minutes. That was, assuming she was given such time.

Leia glanced at Jabba, who was indeed eyeing her with that same intent gaze. He licked his lips, and Leia tensed, bracing herself against the almost unbelievable notion that he would want her again already. But he made no such move, grabbing neither chain nor Leia's still-close body. She pursed her lips, almost ready to ask him what he was planning on doing with her, but she bit her tongue; she would not challenge the fates so easily. She glimpsed down and around, saw her discarded top and skirts.

"Yes,"Jabba said, and Leia was so startled by this that she almost didn't translate his other words: "You may dress."

Leia frowned, not sure if he was plotting some new act of humiliation or not; yet she slowly crouched down and gathered up her outfit. The slime had dried enough that she could begin wiping it off, and within a couple of minutes, she was as clean as she was going to get—at least visually. She slowly slipped her outfit's skimpy pieces back into their respective places. Jabba did nothing but watch her the whole time. Once it was done, she slowly seated herself to the cushions beside the Hutt…again, without interruption.

There was a fleshy shifting sound, and Leia tensed and glanced back, then relaxed—barely. Jabba had twisted to his side and was beckoning with a huge arm at a couple of Jawa servants. "Koose puffa." The tiny twins nodded, their incandescent eyes unblinking as they chattered in response and ran off.

Several minutes went by, but they took forever, for Leia was just constantly on edge,waiting for Jabba to do something; yank on her chain, slip his tail by her barelegs, anything—but still he just…ignored her.

The Jawas returned, bent towards each other as they hefted the heavy-looking hookah tank that Leia had observed upon Jabba's throne when she had been first brought in with the other captive women. The Jawas moved quickly to the throne, sliding it up over the front edge. One of them effortlessly jumped atop the throne, squawked to the other, who joined him. Leia watched as they reached down, grabbed the bottom edge of the hookah (holding the bulbous upper tank very carefully, since it was top-heavy), made a little harmonious chatter as they counted down, then hefted the entire thing with little grunts and gasps. (Leia would have found the whole scene amusing in another setting, but right now, she could only observe objectively.) With remarkable ease and grace, they slid the hookah into the recessed upper circle of Jabba's frog tank, then clapped each other's hands at their success. One of them switched the hookah on, and the tank glowed up with a faint yellow light as it heated the liquid inside. The Jawa then gestured at Jabba (who waved dismissively as he reached for the pipe), the two hopped off the throne, then scuttled away.

Jabba stuck the end of the pipe into his mouth, took a cursory first drag, then puffed out an invisible cloud of the forming steam. A moment later, he took another drag, and this time Leia observed several bubbles rising inside the tank's murky liquid. When the Hutt exhaled this time, there was a small trickle of smoke drifting out of his maw.

Leia turned away after Jabba took a third helping of his puffa. She figured he'd keep busy with that for a minute or three, then he'd probably want some entertainment; there she stopped herself from thinking about what that would entail… She took a deep breath, annoyed with her thoughts, and glanced around the room.

There was a muffled warble, and Leia turned to find its source. At first she saw nothing besides Jabba's lowering arm, then she noticed it: his whole form wobbled, a hill quaking with an earthly tremor, before his bulk suddenly seeming to shrink in on itself as his innards worked at something. Then it swelled again, and there was the sound of a wet snorkle of air being drawn into phlegmy nostrils—

"BURWUH," Jabba seemed to pronounce, and Leia watched him lower the pipe, its bulbous end trickling smoke amidst the thick slime covering it, and Jabba's huge lips parted into a massive cave as he loudly finished his gurgling, guttural statement— "OOOOOAAAGGHH!" Leia flinched openly and turned away. Then the invisible cloud of humid, rank air that accompanied his mighty belch drifted down towards Leia, and her disgust turned fairly nauseous.

Pressing her hands next to her bare hips, Leia lifted herself up and shuffled a small distance away, her chain jangling beside her as she did. She barely escaped Jabba's odor, which seemed to cloyingly follow her.

The chain rang, and Leia turned in time to see it grow taut as Jabba tugged on it. He was glaring right down at her, licking his lips.

Oh no.

"Da eitha," Jabba said, and more of his rank breath drifted down to Leia. Her limited Huttese brought familiarity to the statement: it was an order…and with one of his fat digits lifted away from his hookah pipe and pointing down at his belly, it was easy enough to figure out: "Come here."

Oh…no.

Leia reproachfully glared up at Jabba, then at where he was pointing. Should she just…get it over with? If she complied, he might leave her alone afterwards; he seemed to enjoy her struggles, after all; perhaps it would be easier—if not "best"—to just come to him…and in more ways than one.

Jabba tugged Leia's chain. "Da eitha." The statement, like the tug, was harder now.

Leia,her joints solid metal, reluctantly pushed herself to her feet and turned to the Hutt. She stepped forward…one…two…and was now directly in front of him. She waited.

Jabba licked his lips, his orange eyes fixed on her own. His fleshy rolls shifted as he maneuvered his chunky arms, and Leia closed her eyes…and waited.

And waited.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, she dared to crack her gaze open.

Jabba was drawing another slow puff off of his hookah, sending a stream of bubbles up in the tank beside him. He opened his lips with a wet gasping sound, held it, then puffed out the smoke. But he wasn't reaching for her, nor did he even tighten his grip on the U-shape of the chain slack between his hand and her neck. He just…sat there.

Puzzled, Leia swallowed hard. She dared no tspeak up on her own; anything she said could, and probably would, be used against her.

Jabba took another drag from his pipe.

Leia sighed, growing impatient.

What was he doing? There could be no doubting his methods, his constant plotting; Jabba was clearly very intelligent—he was a highly successful criminal, after all. There could be no reason for Leia to be kept so close to him, fully clothed (as ironic an image that was, considering his own repulsive nakedness), not after being treated to such great bouts of debauchery and humiliation; she was being kept near him for one thing…and that wasn't happening right now; in fact, Jabba couldn't seem less interested in her. Clearly, he was up to something…but what? What, dammit?

A small chuckle sounded from nearby, and she saw Bib Fortuna and a couple of guests were watching her silent conflict. Bib grinned, and Leia glared at him. If it weren't for the fact that she knew Jabba wouldn't take advantage of her at any given moment, she was otherwise ready to give the Twi'lek majordomo a piece of her mind.

Bib's pallid, lekku-crowned head tilted as his fanged lips whispered something. Leia frowned and shook her head back. "You can sit," he repeated.

Leia glanced at Jabba, then. (She would later look back on this moment with disdain when she realized that she had actually been seeking the Hutt's approval; it was a big step towards her breaking.) Jabba said nothing, did nothing besides stare at her as he unleashed another mouthful of smoke.

Leia crossed her arms over her chest. Her impatience had grown into downright annoyance. She didn't see how it could hurt forher to sit down, even with all the disgusting environmental hazards she would face; if Jabba wanted her back on her feet, she knew all too well he'd make her.

So, gingerly turning so her back was to Jabba, Leia reached to her sides and pulled her rear skirt snugly against her backside (this way, there would be only one set of eyes upon the action), and she began to crouch, lowering herself until she found the cushions rising up to meet her.

Bib and the others were instantly bored with Leia, and a moment later, they dispersed. Leia felt her tension lessen—just slightly.

A minute or two went by; for all Leia knew though, it could have been five or ten for how the time dragged. Eventually, she turned and glanced back up at Jabba. He was still smoking, seeming to completely ignore her presence beside him. Not that she was in the least bit dissatisfied with his neglect; just the fact that she even had time to think at all was a bit of a blessing. Enjoy it, Leia's ever-unexpected inner voice reassured her. You don't know how long you may get this peace of mind.

She glanced around, wondering if there was anything worth observing in the meantime; perhaps something useful, such as an escape route to keep in mind if-no, when-such a strategy become necessary. She watched the crowd: some were coming from the canteen, holding foods and drinks. A couple of guards bickered with a Rodian who kept gesticulating down a hallway. Several slaves, including the red-headed dancer, were standing nearby, talking to a short, rotund blue being with big floppy ears and a massive nose, his black eyes twinkling as he wiggled his fingertips in the air. The redheaded slave turned to Leia, and she wasn't sure why she wasn't so startled to see this, but she felt a strange disquiet just the same; she pursed her lips—the closest thing she had to a smile in a couple of days—and the slave returned a smirk before turning back to the conversation with the short blue being. You're just a part of the crowd now, Leia found herself thinking. Might as well relax.

And so Leia did relax, and spent the better part of the morning sitting quietly and patiently beside Jabba—something that she would learn, in the days to come, was quite a normal, even expected, task of a true slave.