Things Get Worse

Padme raised her head off his slimy, smelly, stomach as much as the leash would allow her, and felt his putrid-smelling tongue on her face. He licked, and she felt a line of drool from her forehead, to her left eye, cheek, and chin. She nearly gagged in disgust. Then, outraged, she punched Jabba as hard as she could in his stomach.

Jabba let out a booming laugh, and spoke again.

"The Mighty Jabba says you look delectable, and should consider resigning your Senate seat, and remaining his ****," the protocol droid translated.

Padme stared at Jabba incredulously for a moment. He couldn't be serious. Then Jabba spoke again.

"The Mighty Jabba says you should climb onto his dais, so you will at least look like his **** when the Separatist arrives, which will be momentarily," the protocol droid translated.

Padme glanced at the Separatist ship, which was only a few kilometers away, and closing fast. Suddenly she felt a sharp tug on her collar, and was pulled forward and up. "OKAY, OKAY!" she replied as she hastily climbed the rest of the way up.

As she did, she felt a hand on her inner thigh, just centimeters below her bare pussy. She turned around to slap who's ever it was, but the Weequay had already jumped back out of the way. Instead, she just stared at him menacingly. Then she saw Artoo extending his charge arm again, and quickly waved him off a second time.

Jabba let out another booming laugh, and Abi'lar'ar helped Padme settle into place just in front of Jabba. She adjust her lashaa silks to conceal her most intimate places. She could feel his rough skin on her back and legs, and feel his tail flexing near her feet. Padme's leash went from the front of her collar, to Jabba's undersized hand, and disappeared behind him.

"Just relax," Abi'lar'ar told her with a soft smile. "Pretend to be subservient, but a little afraid of Master Jabba."