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It was startling, waking up in the same bed as his master. He had stayed as far away from her as physically possible, without falling off the side of the bed.
Though, she was still uncomfortably close to him. She had shifted, somehow, in her sleep, and was now facing his direction. Her breath fluttered past his nose.
He had felt her move earlier, but it seemed as though she had laid back down, ignoring the rising sun. But soon she would wake, and Anakin was dreading the moment she did.
His hair, not having proper ventilation while he slept, still felt damp from the exploitations of the previous night. It was almost greasy. She had talked about wanting to cut it, and at that moment he wasn’t completely appalled by the suggestion.
The night before flashed before his mind. He was again filled with the absolute hatred he felt for the woman next to him. The way she treated him was vile, and he was sure something like it was bound to happen again. Though she hadn’t used him in the way he thought, she had still completely taken his dignity, his decorum. She stole from him last night, and he was angry.
He needed to leave.
Anakin was a realist, and he knew that he had relatively no chance of making it out of here by himself. But there was a small part of him that hoped. He’d been gone from Coruscant for almost a month. The council knew he was missing by now. They knew that Obi-Wan was missing. There had to be some kind of search going on. He was sure of it.
Unless they’ve given up.
His rational mind knew that he had only been missing for a short while, and it was improbable that he would just be forgotten about. He was a general, a famous one too. But, the other part of him, the insecure, childish boy that was still inside his head, even after being suppressed from years of training screamed. He wanted to give in to those thoughts. The ones that were more akin to those he’d have had back on Tatooine, trapped under the weight of Watto and his companions.
Who needs you? There are plenty of better Jedi to take your place.
Those thoughts told him that he was better where he was. That he deserved to be taken like this, trapped again.
His life had come full circle, he’d realized. Born a slave, die a slave. It was what seemed to be his destiny. If he was honest, he was unsure that he’d ever escaped it. He’d never really stopped calling anyone master. While it was different with the Jedi, Anakin still felt imprisoned. He’d never gotten a chance to be free, from anything really. There was always, in every time of his life, an underlying duty he must perform.
The Chosen One.
Chosen to suffer, it seemed.
……
There was rustling next to him, and Anakin knew that what he’d been dreading had finally come. She was awake.
He stayed as still as he could, not wanting her to recognize his presence, keeping his breathing even. But she did. Too soon in his opinion.
“Anakin?” He wanted to rip his name off her tongue. “I know you're awake, my pet.”
Reluctantly, Anakin opened his eyes. He kept his face blank, not even looking in her direction as he replied. “Yes.” His voice sounded rough, like there was a layer of phlegm coating the inside of his throat. Still, he did his best to keep it even.
His master shook the blankets off of herself, stretching. “How did you sleep?”
“Fine, master.”
She stepped off the bed, pulling the blanket with her, and he was suddenly aware of how naked he was. She herself wasn’t clothed much, but she wasn’t bare . Not like he was.
“Master?” He was careful to keep his voice leveled. He wasn’t going to upset her. “I don’t have any clothes.”
“I’m aware of that, Anakin.” She dismissed him almost immediately, not even bothering to look in his direction. It made him feel small, insignificant compared to her.
He cleared his throat, pushing past the anxiety as he spoke, “when … master, when will I get some?”
She didn’t answer his question. It seemed she was more focused on her hair in the mirror than her naked slave behind her.
He didn’t want to ask again, too afraid to agitate her.
As his master continued to deal with herself, Anakin took in his own body.
He was naked, that was well known. And he was still restrained - the cuff he had fastened around his ankle still present. The marks on his wrists had gone down significantly since he was first brought to this planet, as had the ones on his ankles. Though he had a feeling that another would form if he were to be restrained every night. While he had tried not to, he couldn’t help that he moved in his sleep.
He only had a few marks on his body from being handled. They also were fading, having been from his previous capture. While his new captors weren’t exactly gentle, they were different with him. Cautious.
“And be careful. I don’t want any damaged goods.”
Her previous words flitted through his memory.
He was her property, her prize. And having any scars, marks, damages would ruin the goods . How would she show him off if he wasn’t in pristine condition?
She had given him a new nickname earlier. Pet. That is what he was. And somehow, it was even worse than being called her slave. At least a slave was a being. A pet was an animal. A mindless creature who did as their master asked.
Was that what he was to become?
She had given him a collar. It even had a damned ring on it. She kept him chained. She called him like a dog and was upset when he didn’t immediately appear at her side.
Just like an animal.
……
It wasn’t long before his master was done getting ready. She had sat in her vanity for a while, then changed her clothes.
Again, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. That didn’t mean he liked her, gods no. Anakin couldn’t imagine having any feelings for the woman who enslaved him again. But when she was dressed up, looking regal and diplomatic, he couldn’t help being reminded of the woman he actually loved.
Don’t.
Obediently, he pushed the thoughts of her away and focused on what was in front of him.
He was bare before her, and his master didn’t seem to mind that fact. She looked at him, remorseless. She was relishing in his discomfort. It was probably turning her on.
Anakin didn’t dare move. A part of him was ashamed that she was looking at him this way, but he wasn’t aware of anything he could do. At least, something that wouldn’t upset her.
He broke the silence, voice betraying how uncomfortable he was. “Master?”
Finally, her eyes moved upward and meet his, her brows raised in question.
“I … uh.” He was unsure if she was even going to listen to him. “I need clothes … please.”
She sighed, at last replying to his question.
“I suppose you do.”
He was given a pair of black slacks, and a black button up shirt. She retrieved them from her closet and, again, instructed him that these were his only clothes and that he was responsible for them.
For a brief moment, he was confused when he received no underwear. But, Anakin wasn’t dumb. He knew that anything she did to him was on purpose, and questioning it would only bring him more discomfort. He knew where his other pair were. Still laying on the floor in the bathroom, and for a moment he debated trying to go and get them. But his master was watching him, like she always did when he was unclothed, so he decided against it.
The cuff around his ankle had been removed so he could dress. And when he was finished he was surprised when she didn’t make him put it back on. Instead, he was instructed to follow her.
Anakin knew that he couldn’t spend all of his time in her bedroom. Though, he wished he could. He had been fearful of the day she would finally make him venture out into her world.
While Anakin was currently enslaved, and his mind was slowly crumbling to adapt, he still had the training of a general. And he knew that this was the perfect time to figure out his surroundings. He was on an enemy planet, he had to figure out how to take them down.
He was aware that he couldn’t do it by himself, but it was a good way to keep his mind occupied, especially as he was led down endless, boring hallways filled with nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
He wondered if the woman liked it this way, or if she couldn’t be bothered to decorate. It was odd for someone who seemed so … materialistic to have a home filled with nothing.
Every once in a while, a window would pop up. Floor length, with curtains that mostly blocked the view. But he took every chance he could get to see outside, into the foreign planet. Everytime he looked he saw almost the same picture.
Sand.
Red, yellow, orange sand.
It reminded him of his childhood.
Sometimes there would be fires lit in the distance, the smoke curling up into the sky. He’d follow the trail with his eyes as it disappeared into the atmosphere, up into space and beyond the horrors of the ground.
Every glimpse towards the sky made his chest heavier. He was filled with a sickness of longing that he knew wouldn’t be cured anytime soon.
……
The walking only went on for a few more minutes before they entered a large room. It was tiled and pristine. Quite the contrast to the corridor Anakin had just walked through.
Inside, he was surprised when there actually was furniture. It wasn’t a lot, considering the size of the room. But it was furniture.
He almost didn’t notice the man standing in the corner.
When he did, he jumped back, disturbed by what he saw.
No.
The man looked smug upon seeing Anakin’s reaction. He smiled in a way that screamed imbetterthanyou. And maybe he was.
A cold hand touched his lower back, pushing him forward.
Her laughter pierced the dark silence. “You must excuse his behavior.” She spoke to the Count. “He is spooked easily.”
“I can see that,” Dooku laughed back, eyes focused on Anakin, surveying him all over. It made him want to gag. There was no possible way this could’ve gotten any worse. Dooku was here.
The general inside him came to life.
If Dooku was here, and nobody seemed to mind that fact, that meant that he was definitely on Seperatist territory.
Anakin mentaly listed all of the planets he could think of. Geonosis, Ando, Dac, Castell.
Castell.
It made perfect sense. The whole planet was under seperatist rule. It was guarded heavily with a blockade, making it the Republic's worst enemy. He had sat with Master Plo for weeks trying to plan a route inside. But Castell was impossible.
If it’s impossible to get in, how are you going to get out?
Anakin pushed that question to the back of his mind, more focused on figuring out more. Or maybe he knew the answer already. But he wasn’t going to admit that.
Castell was located directly on the Perlemian Trade Route, smugglers used it all of the time. Hell, Anakin had even used it before the war had started.
How did he not know?
His inner thoughts led him right to the woman he was enslaved to.
Ssaria.
The minute he saw her face he knew exactly who she was. A governor. And apparently, from the stories he’d heard, a powerful one too. She ruled with an iron fist, using any cruelty to gain people’s obedience. The Chancellor was having a hard time dealing with her. And from what little information he had heard from Padmé, he knew that the senate didn’t like her either. She was hard to bargain with, and even harder to agree with.
And he was enslaved to her.
Anakin forcibly turned back toward his master, a sneer on his face.
“Get him out,” Anakin pleaded with Ssaria. “Why is he even here?” He wasn’t stupid, he now fully understood the situation he was in, and the woman he was with. He knew that there was definitely a bigger plot to be found.
And Dooku was only the beginning.
“Excuse me?” Her voice raised a few decibels as she spoke. “You are not permitted to ask that.”
There was laughter from the corner where the sith lord currently presided, and it took everything in Anakin not to rip his throat out.
“Why is he here!” He repeated again, motioning over to the man.
He had disrespected her, regarded her in a way that he knew he was not allowed to do. And the look on her face showed him just how severe that was to her.
Again, Dooku laughed.
Anakin turned to face him, completely disregarding the angered woman.
“What do you want, Dooku?”
“This is a new look for you, young Skywalker.” Dooku motioned in his direction and suddenly Anakin felt just as bare as he had in the bedroom. “And don’t worry, I’m not here for you,” he drawled.
Again, Ssaria’s hand met Anakin, but this time it wasn’t a gentle shove. She tightly grabbed his shoulder, spinning him back around to face her.
“How dare you?” Her voice was filled with shock. And he wondered why she was surprised. How had she expected a Jedi to act in front of a Sith?
Was she delusional?
If it weren’t for the collar, he would have strangled them both. He could feel the need deep inside him. He hated her, and he hated Dooku. Anakin didn’t care that it wasn’t the Jedi way. At that moment he wanted vengeance, and she was the only person stopping him from getting it.
Her hand reached out again and, before she could make contact with Anakin, he jumped back.
“Don’t touch me.” His voice was deep, almost a growl. He was angry. And he didn’t want to hide it. At that moment he wasn’t afraid of her. He should’ve been, but he wasn’t.
“It seems,” Dooku spoke from across the room, “that your slave has an obedience issue.”
Ssaria didn’t respond to him, still staring violently at Anakin. Her eyes bore right into his, brown against blue, in a contest both were determined to win.
Under all of the anger, she looked almost … embarrassed, Anakin realized. She had brought him here to show off. To flaunt him in front of her superior, and he hadn’t listened.
Finally she spoke. “Don’t forget, slave. You’ve already earned one punishment. Do you really want another?”
Anakin’s voice came out almost as a whisper, “you can’t control me.” The panic he felt in his chest had become ordinary in the past few weeks. But now, faced with not only one, but two enemies in the same room, the panic grew. He felt as though he couldn’t contain it. “You … you can’t” He spoke again, voice growing louder with each word.
“Did you not hear me?”
He wasn’t afraid of her, he couldn’t be. He didn’t want to be. But she terrified him. And though he wanted it to not be true, she had all the power. He couldn’t do anything to help himself.
“I said, `Did you not hear me?’”
She wanted a verbal answer. She wanted him to submit right then and there, even though he was still angry. She wanted him to be compliant in front of Dooku.
Anakin didn’t know what to do. He was truly at a loss of words. She was demanding a response from him, a specific one, but there was no way he’d submit. His stubbornness, the same stubbornness from that small boy on Tatooine, filled him.
He could feel both of their stares, waiting for some type of reaction. Ssaria wanted him to shrink down, to fall into the role he was supposed to be playing. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. The feeling he had felt when he was first captured, that rage and anger and … hatred, suddenly fueled him.
“I’m not your slave!” He screamed at her, his voice unforgiving. A part of him was shocked with himself, the same part that knew what she’d do to him after. But the rest of him, the part that had control, was satisfied. “You can’t do this!”
“I can do anything,” Ssaria drew closer, almost spitting in his face, “and everything I want. It’s time you learned that.” She grabbed him by his collar, throwing him down onto the floor.
Dooku chuckled from the corner.
“You, Anakin, are not in power here.”
He tried rising into a sitting position, something more comfortable on the marble floor, but was pushed back down by his master’s boot. She knelt down next to him, grabbing his chin to meet her eyes. “I brought you here,” she said, “to introduce you to my superior. But it seems you two already know each other.”
“You brought me here to brag.” Anakin’s voice was muffled from her grip on his face.
“Quiet!” Her nails dug deep, cutting crescent moons into his flesh. “You need to be respectful. If that’s going to be a problem, then maybe you require another punishment.”
“Count Dooku,” she continued, “has taken time out of his very busy schedule to come and oversee your training, and you waste his time by acting like a barbarian. It's unacceptable.”
She then stood, turning away from Anakin.
“I’m truly sorry, my lord.” She apologized to the Sith. “Like you said, he really does have an obedience issue.” Her voice was unusually light. Surprising, since she’d just been screamed at.
“No worries, governor.” They kept their titles formal. “It’s to be expected. Especially from him.”
Anakin wanted to die. He wanted to let the force take his soul, and to leave the hell he was living in. As he listened to the two speak, uncontrollably sneering at every word that came out of their mouths, he decided that he had finally had it.
Anakin was done letting her abuse him. He was not a slave, he was a person. And he was going to fight back.
Standing up, wincing as the blood rushed to the cuts on his chin, Anakin turned to face the pair.
“You,” his voice rose with every word, “Can’t. Control. Me.”
Ssaria again turned, looking upon her slave with pure disappointment. She tsked at him, reaching into her pocket to pull out the ever familiar black box.
“Shame,” she said, “it seems you really believe that.”
From next to her Dooku smiled, enjoying what was happening.
Ssaria pushed a button, and after a moment of pain, Anakin collapsed into darkness.
The two remaining stared at his motionless body on the floor.
“I’m impressed, Ssaria, that you were able to capture a Jedi. And their so-called chosen one at that. It’s not an easy task.”
“Thank you, my lord. I can assure he will be properly trained and obedient by the time you return. Then, you may begin your assignment.”
Dooku nodded and she continued.
“Is Lord Sidious aware that we have him?”
“Yes, Governor. He was informed the minute those pirates took hold of him on Lothal.”
“And what of Kenobi.”
“He is scheduled to be executed. But, that padawan is hot on their tail. It seems she thinks Skywalker is with him.”
“Capture her, then kill them both. It’s better that we have no distractions when Lord Sidious begins his plan.”
“I agree.”
…….
When Anakin awoke, he was back in the governor's bed. For a moment, he believed the previous encounter had been a dream, but the ache in his neck from the shock told him it had all been real.
He sat up, stretching his back as he moved. Someone had placed the cuff back around his ankle, leaving him little options but to stay where he was.
Ssaria stood in the doorway, looking in on him with pure anger.
“Anakin,” she spoke, startling him a bit, “what you did down there was unacceptable.”
He didn't respond. In fact, he didn’t even look at her. And she continued. “I bring you into my home, treat you with unending kindness, something rare for a slave like you, and this is how i’m repayed?”
Anakin couldn’t help the red flush that appeared on his cheeks. It wasn’t embarrassment, or at least that's what he was telling himself. He was angry at her, just as angry as she was with him.
“Twice in a row now, you’ve disobeyed me. And it’s time you learn.”
He looked up now, meeting his master’s eyes. He was careful not to show any fear, putting up a mask of pure hatred. He knew that she probably saw right through it, right down to the boy from Tatooine.
“Stand up.” She ordered, moving closer into the bedroom. The doors slammed shut behind her.
He didn’t want to obey her, but when she moved closer he saw the black box resting in her grip, and he knew that he didn’t want that either.
“Stand, Anakin.” Her voice was firm, and he did as he was told.
When he stepped off the bed, the chain on his ankle rattled to the floor.
She laughed as he stood there, waiting. Ssaria came closer and reached down, releasing his ankle from the chain. “Take your clothes off.”
The red in his face was gone, replaced with a ghostly white. “No.”
“Take. Them. Off.”
He could see the rage in her eyes. They promised him unending pain, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be exploited for her entertainment, not this way. “You can’t do this. It’s not right.”
His mind flashed full of images from his childhood. Watto, beating him senseless in front of his mother, begging for him to stop. She had said the same words then. It’s not right.
It wasn’t right. And it wasn’t fair.
“Anakin,” her voice turned soft, coaxing him from his memories. “I know that this is difficult for you, but it’s for the best that you learn soon.” She moved closer, running her hands over the sides of his face. “You don’t want the Count doing this, do you?”
The threat was obvious.
“Anakin.” She said his name again, moving her hands down to his shoulders. “Take them off.”
There were tears forming in his eyes. Her hands moved down to his waist, where she started undoing the button on his pants. He stood rigid, not wanting to move and upset her. She worked painfully slow, clearly enjoying the torment he was going through.
“That should help,” His pants were now completely undone, hanging loosely on his hips. “Now take them off and get on the bed.”
Anakin couldn’t help the tears that began to fall, blurring his vision. “Please, I don’t want this.” He begged her, his voice breaking.
“Like I’ve said before, this is not about what you want.” She spat her words, pure fury dripping off her tongue. “But you have forced my hand.”
He did as she told him, removing his pants and crawling back on to the bed, embarrassment covering his face. He begged more as he moved, trying desperately to change her mind. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.” But she was rigid in her decision, and Ssaria was going to punish him for his actions.
When he was finally sat on the bed, Ssaria joined him, moving to sit next to his half naked form.
“Now, Anakin,” she spoke softly, “I need you to understand that this is not something that I enjoy doing to you.” It was evident that she was lying, but he kept quiet, not wanting to earn another retribution from his master. “But, when you disobey me, you need to be taught a lesson.”
He wouldn’t look at her, not while she was chastising him.
“I need you to tell me that you understand, Anakin.”
“But I don’t.” He gritted the words out, anger supplying the courage.
“ Anakin, ” her voice lost all gentleness, “speak to me like that again, and this punishment will get even worse. Tell me that you understand.”
“Master,” with the crying, his voice was almost a whine, reminding him all too much of the way he’d talk to Obi-Wan when they bickered.
“Anakin.” He could feel himself becoming overwhelmed, much like in the training room with Dooku. He felt vulnerable. “If you can’t answer me,” Ssaria spoke again, her voice strict, “then it seems we have a much bigger problem than I originally thought.”
Anakin was still crying, but Ssaria didn’t care. She wanted to teach him a lesson, in her own twisted way. She shifted herself on the bed, so that she was sitting behind him. From there she pushed on his shoulders, somewhat gently, guiding him to laying facedown on the bed. Anakin knew exactly what she was going to do, and it was worse than what he’d ever imagined.
He’d been spanked before, Watto used it as a punishment when he was very young. When even slavers agreed that using a whip on a three year old was wrong. That had been what he had expected from his master. A whip. But she seemed to want to do this a different way. His cheeks flushed red when she ran her hand over his bare ass, her nails scratching where he was most sensitive.
“Very well, Anakin. If you can’t tell me that you understand, then you are going to have to show me. I want you to lie still. No moving. And I want you to count after each smack. If you don’t,” she reached down and grabbed the end of his hair, raising his head off of the bed, “I will start over, and this will be much more painful. Understand?”
He chose to answer her this time, seeing as there was definitely no way out of the situation now. “Yes,” his voice was barely a whisper.
“Good.”
The first blow hurt worse than he’d expected, but he kept his composure, not wanting to satisfy her that soon. After a couple of seconds he forced out the number, keeping his teeth gritted.
“One.”
She hit him again, this time, harder than before.
“Two.”
“There, I knew this wasn’t too hard for you.” When she hit him the third time, he couldn’t help the breath that escaped from him.
“Three.”
“Good boy.”
The rest of his punishment went the same way. She hit him harder each time, trying to get a reaction. And he counted, grinded his teeth back and forth, then counted some more.
By the time he got to twenty, there were more tears falling down his face. But he wouldn’t beg, not like he did in the beginning. That clearly had no effect on her.
His ass burned from the smacks, and he was sure her hand didn’t feel any better.
“I’m sure you don’t want that to happen again, Anakin?” She questioned him. Her voice had become soothing again, like she was trying to convince him that she was helping him.
“No, master.”
“Good.” She looped a finger around his collar, guiding him into a sitting position, right next to her. He hated being so close, but she made it difficult to escape. “You earned yourself two, you know.” Her hands moved to trace the inside of his thighs. “But I don’t think you’re ready for what I have in mind. Not yet at least.”
Anakin whimpered quietly, keeping his feelings to himself. But she heard anyway, and her eyes moved to meet his. “Why?” He asked, as if she owed him an answer.
“‘Why’ isn’t relevant in this situation, Anakin. I am doing this because I can. And because I want you.” Her eyes never left his as she moved closer, too close for his liking, and planted a kiss on his lips. “No more questions,” she whispered into his mouth, “it’s not your place.”
By this time, his tears had already dried up, but he could feel his eyes burning, threatening more to come. When she moved away, off the bed and back over to the door, the tears finally fell.
Anakin curled up into himself, still partially naked, but not caring at all.
“I won’t bother the Count with your presence again. Stay here until tonight. And behave.”
Then she was gone.