lay affections on Jabba, trying to reclaim his attention

As the Council disperses into recess, leaving you perched awkwardly on Jabba's throne, a sense of desolation washes over you. The weight of his indifference feels like a physical blow, leaving you feeling exposed and utterly alone amidst the lingering echoes of power and intrigue.

**** to reclaim Jabba's attention, you cast aside the nagging sense of shame that threatens to consume you. Ignoring the prying eyes of Nyx, you lean in close to Jabba, your fingers tracing a tentative path along his massive form. His slimy skin sends shivers down your spine, but you push aside the discomfort, focusing instead on the task at hand.

You whisper dirty thoughts into Jabba's ear, your voice laced with a seductive urgency. His bulbous eyes flicker with interest, his attention momentarily captured by your advances. Encouraged by his response, you press closer, your lips brushing against his grotesque form as you seek to reignite the flames of his insatiable desire.

But Jabba, ever the master of manipulation, remains aloof, his attention wandering even as you shower him with affection. His tail twitches impatiently, a clear indication that your efforts are falling short of his expectations. The realization sends a pang of disappointment coursing through you, a bitter reminder of your diminished status in Jabba's eyes.

With a calculated grace, you lean closer to Jabba, your fingers tracing tantalizing patterns across his slimy flesh. His attention remains fixed on the conversation unfolding before him, his bulbous eyes darting between the other members of the Council.

Undeterred, you press closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper promises of pleasure and devotion. His response is minimal, a barely perceptible shift in his posture as he acknowledges your presence without truly engaging with you.

Undeterred, you press on, your hands finding their way to the folds of his flesh, caressing and kneading with a familiarity born of countless encounters. Still, Jabba remains distant, his focus consumed by the business at hand.

Frustration bubbles up within you, mingling with the shame that threatens to consume you. You refuse to be cast aside so easily, to be discarded like a forgotten trinket. With a **** resolve, you sink to your knees before Jabba, your fingers deftly undoing his garments to reveal his swollen member.

You offer yourself up to him, your mouth descending upon his cock with a fervent hunger. His response is immediate, a guttural groan escaping his lips as you worship him with a fervor born of desperation. But even as you work tirelessly to please him, to draw his attention back to you, his focus remains fractured, his thoughts consumed by matters of power and influence.

Nyx's presence lingers in the periphery of your mind, a constant reminder of the shame and humiliation that threatens to engulf you. But you push it aside, burying it beneath a facade of false bravado as you continue to lavish attention upon Jabba's member.

Minutes pass in a blur of **** need and unfulfilled desire, the ache of shame growing ever more pronounced with each passing moment. And as the Council reconvenes to resume their deliberations, you find yourself left in the wake of Jabba's indifference, your heart heavy with the weight of unrequited longing and unspoken shame.