Offered and willing

Once again, the medical droid removed her from the bacta tank. Leia was still groggy as she was being wiped down. She heard Niia ask the doctor.

• Did you carry out Jabba's orders? Your robotic existence depends on it.
• Yes, mistress, intact as on the first day, and I could restore her as many times as Master Jabba wishes.
• Well, Niia said, satisfied, addressing the guards. Take her when she's ready.

Leia's makeup was applied by the slaves, who applied themselves. This day she would be delivered to her master. The collar amplified her lust, delivering images of Jabba taking care of her in every unimaginable way. She nearly fainted, yet she was wet, betrayed by her body.

When the makeup was finished, the slaves put her back in her **** dancer's costume. Before the guards led her away, one of them said to her:

• I can't wait for the master to tire of you. He'll deliver you either to the Rankour or to us, his guards. Either way, I'm going to have fun.

The guards roughly pushed her toward Jabba's throne room, the echoes of their hearty laughter and the sounds of the cantina filling the thick air. The smell of smoke and **** hit her already heightened senses. When she entered, Jabba was lying on his throne, his glowing eyes fixed on her with a voracity that made her shiver. The collar around his neck seemed to pulse in harmony with his heart, amplifying every murky desire that rose within her. She knelt, as she had been taught, but her hands trembled imperceptibly. Jabba growled, a guttural sound that sounded like satisfaction, and extended a greasy hand toward her.

The droid asked Leia,

• ****, Jabba's female dog, our master awaits your plea so that he may deign to honor you.

Jabba's greasy fingers brushed against her shoulder, and Leia felt a wave of disgust rise within her. The collar around her neck pulsed more strongly, as if to amplify each shudder of revulsion, transforming it into a murky excitement that shamed her. She looked down, unable to bear the lecherous stare, as Jabba let out a fat, satisfied laugh. The guards, posted nearby, sneered openly, their jeers and taunts filling the air already thick with smoke and ****. The medical droid watched the scene with indifference, his gaze cold and calculating, while Niia, standing beside him, smiled with unparalleled cruelty.

The droid ordered, signaling to a guard.

• Speak,

The guard delivered a vicious stab with his unarmed spear into Leia's ribs.

Leia felt the spear's thrust into her ribs, and a sharp pain knocked the wind out of her. She staggered, but managed to remain on her knees, refusing to show weakness. Jabba groaned with pleasure, clearly aroused by her distress. The collar around her neck pulsed with increased intensity, transforming each stab of pain into a perverse excitement that revolted her. She looked up, meeting Jabba's lustful gaze, and for a moment, she thought she saw a glint of sadistic satisfaction in his eyes.

• Master, your... ****, begs you to accept possession of her in any way you deem appropriate.

Jabba straightened slightly, his massive body heaving with a grunt of exertion. He reached a greasy hand toward Leia, his fingers curling around her chin like pliers. She felt a surge of disgust, but the collar pulsed harder, transforming that repulsion into a murky arousal. The guards laughed, their jeers adding to the heavy atmosphere in the room. Niia watched with a cruel smile, clearly satisfied to see Leia subdued.