the Hutt Council

The air in the grand hall of the Hutt Council on Nal Hutta is thick with the stench of power and intrigue. The ornate throne, perched at the center of the room, is occupied by Jabba the Hutt, his massive form oozing authority. As the Council convenes to discuss matters of galactic significance, you find yourself uncomfortably perched upon Jabba's throne, a symbol of his dominance and excess.

The agenda items are as numerous as the shadows in the dimly lit chamber. Jabba, known for his shrewd maneuvers, must represent himself well to gain favor and secure his standing among the Hutt Cartel. Meanwhile, you, his submissive possession, serve as both an object of his gratification and a symbol of his unbridled influence.

As Jabba listens and deliberates, his massive tail slithers around you, its cold, scaly touch sending shivers down your spine. His pudgy hands, encrusted with jewels and adorned with gaudy rings, roam your curves, exploring the contours of your body as if you were nothing more than a lavish plaything.

The scant garments that barely conceal your modesty offer little resistance to Jabba's wandering appendages. His hands grope and fondle, shamelessly exploring your breasts and tracing the curves of your body. The Hutt's repulsive touch leaves you feeling exposed and ****, a living canvas upon which he indulges his desires.

The Council members, a motley crew of power-hungry Hutts, eye Jabba's display with a mix of envy and amusement. You, however, are gripped by a profound sense of shame. The realization that you are being used as a pawn in Jabba's public spectacle settles heavily upon you, but beneath the shame lies a begrudging acceptance of your role in Jabba's criminal empire.