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Chapter Text

Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt in the square of midday sunlight, hands resting on his thighs. Eyes closed, he breathed slowly, mind gradually clearing. He finally sank into a light meditation, his first in many days, remaining motionless as the patch of light shifted position.

A snort of derisive laughter broke his concentration. “Wake up, prettyboy,” sneered the guard. “Time for lunch.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes in time to catch the chunk of bread and block of cheese that were tossed through the bars, metal collars around his neck jangling harshly as he leaned forward.

“Eat hearty, Jedi boy,” the guard continued. “I hear they’re bringing you a new mate today. Maybe this’ll be the one to keep your perverted little ass in line.” He laughed and headed down the corridor with a cart of food.

Sighing heavily, the padawan looked at the rough meal with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, but the rumble from his stomach reminded him that he had better eat while he had the rare opportunity to do so undisturbed. Obi-Wan had long since learned to ignore the gibes about Jedi and infant sacrifices, child sex, dark magical practices and other distorted lies, but it didn’t make life very pleasant when everyone considered him to be such a nasty piece of slime. He glanced over at the makeshift calendar on the wall and sighed again.

~ Thirty-two days I’ve been in here, thirty-six days since the mission fell apart, and forty-three since I last saw my Master. ~ He moved over to the small sink set into the wall and pressed the button to release water into the plastic cup. He allowed himself a small stab of self-pity. ~ I wonder if he even knows that I’m still alive. ~ He sat on the bunk to eat, his thoughts glum.

Junmek was an unsavory little Outer Rim planet whose inhabitants derived most of their income from smuggling, farming, mining, and odds and ends of legal trade. The natives were humanoid, tending toward middle height, fair skin and grayish eyes, although the northern mountains and plains were dominated by taller, fierce hunting clans. Except for the clans, most Junmekans had little use for the Republic or Jedi, and normally the Jedi would have had little use for a place like Junmek. Several clandestine visits, however, had confirmed that the Junmekans tended to produce an abnormally high proportion of Force sensitives; because of this, for over two centuries the Jedi had periodically sent covert missions to look for suitable young Temple candidates among the orphanages and the poor. Qui-Gon and his apprentice had been joined by Knights Dra’vr and Ghuthiin on just such a mission.

After arriving on Junmek, the four Jedi had hidden their ship in the highlands, then split into two teams for the search. Knight Ghuthiin and Padawan Kenobi most closely resembled the lowlanders so they headed south to the cities while Qui-Gon and the tall, gangly Knight Dra’vr went north to seek the roving clans. The mission had initially gone well, each team finding three youngsters. As senior Jedi, Qui-Gon had called both teams to return, but Knight Ghuthiin had felt a particularly strong Force call. The junior knight was normally rather fussy and pedantic, but his obvious sincerity in this case had persuaded Obi-Wan against his better judgement to agree to stay an extra day. They had found a baby with incredible midichlorian readings in a brothel and paid off the owner, but within an hour were running desperately from two squads of local peacekeepers. The knight took the infant while Obi-Wan guarded his rear. The next thing the young Jedi remembered was waking up in a cell with a tremendous headache, wearing a crude but effective Force dampening collar. There had been a short trial where the brothel owner had testified that the Jedi had stolen the baby, then the padawan had found himself shipped off to this distant prison.

One of the few saving graces of the prison guard force was that they seemed to have a definite distaste for physical contact with male prisoners, considering them too low a lifeform to touch and preferring to rely on pain-inflicting control collars and neuron whips. The guards did, however, seem to derive great entertainment value from the prisoners’ ‘interactions’. Obi-Wan remembered with disgust the initial strip and cavity search performed by a prisoner trustee; a guard watched with a leer as the trustee took several liberties with his manacled body stretched naked over the steel railing.

After inprocessing, Obi-Wan was given two sets of rough spun tunics, pants and smallclothes, a pair of soft shoes, and a small set of toiletries; a control collar was welded around his neck. The apprentice was then placed in an austere two-person end cell in the high security section, under constant surveillance from cameras and monitors. He was grateful for the barred window, which he could pull himself up to look out of, but not pleased with the cold breeze that the opening allowed to enter at night. The window did have a remotely controlled shutter, but as far as he could tell the guards only seemed to close it when it rained heavily. Since most of the high security prisoners were not on work details, his interaction with other inmates was limited to the daily communal meal, the every other day common exercise yard and the occasional forced showers where small groups of prisoners were stripped, chained together and taken to the cleaning room for haircuts and a hosing off.

The padawan’s biggest problem had been the series of cellmates forced upon him. The young man had stayed celibate for years, hoping to get his long-desired Master to become his first lover upon his approaching twenty-first birthday, so he had no intention of becoming a fuck toy for another prisoner. Even without his Force abilities, Obi-Wan had a wide repertoire of unarmed combat skills, and so far he had successfully fought off every attempt to take him. There had been a few close calls; a battle scarred veteran named Diwan and a tough little bald scrapper had given the apprentice quite a fight. The constant vigilance in cell and exercise yard was wearing heavily, however; after his last cellmate was taken away with a broken arm, the previous night had been his first uninterrupted sleep in almost two tendays. The padawan was tired and underweight, and every passing day in the dull gray of his Forceless existence took an emotional toll as the possibility of rescue seemed to diminish.

Finishing the last of the tough bread, Obi-Wan’s attention was caught by a commotion from somewhere down the long corridor. He moved to the front of the cell, which was an open lattice of steel bars, but a guard’s arrival quickly sent him to the back wall as far as possible from the door. It had only taken one shot of pain from the control collar to learn that lesson his first day. He watched warily as the door was unlocked and opened.

A gasp of despair escaped his lips involuntarily at the sight of the new prisoner’s deep blue eyes glaring fiercely at the four guards escorting him.

~ Master! ~ He felt his knees grow weak as he watched the guard by the door motion the prisoner into the cell. Obi-Wan quickly realized his error, though, and pressed himself against the rough wall to wait.

The tall prisoner growled and rattled his leg and arm chains. The head guard held up his control rod and pressed a button, sending the prisoner to his knees with a howl of pain. After the button was released, the four guards hauled the new inmate back to his feet, his head drooping. Holding the control rod in clear view, the head guard again waved the prisoner in. Still glaring, but now with a careful eye on the guard, the man shuffled inside, then stood quietly as the chains were removed and the door locked.

The head guard gestured at Obi-Wan. “Ben, Jedi baby thief.” He then waved at the stranger. “Maogg, White Panther clan, spy and murderer.” Addressing Maogg, the guard held up his control rod. “Ya understand what this does?”

“Yes.”

The guard held up his neuron whip. “Ya understand what this does?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t care what the two of ya do in your cell as long as ya don’t kill each other. Outside the cell, *anywhere* outside the cell, do what you’re told and don’t cause no trouble or ya get your sorry ass zapped. The more times ya cause trouble, the higher the setting and the harder ya get zapped. Got that?”

A brief hesitation, then another single grunted “Yes.”

“Good.” The guard leaned closer to the bars. “Hey, Ben, among the clans, if ya ain’t a first son, they only got two kinds of young adult males. You’re either an owner, or you’re owned. Mostly, they’re owned.” He smiled and jerked his head at the clansmen. “And them tattoos on his arm says he done killed four people already. At least try to put up a good show for the boys in the monitor room.” He waved at the camera as the guards laughed. Finally they headed back down the hall, loudly placing bets on how long the Jedi would last. Obi-Wan’s stomach churned acidly as he licked dry lips.

The new prisoner had backed against the wall across from the window and was slowly surveying the bare cell. There wasn’t much to see: a bunk bolted to each wall, each with a thin mattress, two sheets, a single blanket and support bars at the head and foot; a steel sink set into the wall and two plastic cups; a steel mirror; a steel toilet; a small shelf at the head of each bunk for clothes and personal items.

Obi-Wan used the time to get a closer look at his new cellmate and quickly realized why he had initially mistaken the stranger for his Master. The newcomer was the same size as Qui-Gon, which made him average for a clansman, with the same large hands, blue eyes and even a broken nose. The dark brown hair was tied back in a single tail but the beard was thicker and darker brown than Qui-Gon’s. There was a fearsome scar on the left cheek, a chipped upper front tooth and several dark blue and red tattoos on the right arm. Although he clutched a set of prison clothes in one hand, the guards had let him keep at least some of his native clothes: soft leather boots, leather breeches and a sleeveless tunic tightly woven with a recurring zigzag pattern. The whole outfit was in dark earth tones, and Obi-Wan caught a whiff of dirt, body odor and a faintly herbal overtone as the man moved closer to him.

The padawan dropped into a wary crouch when Maogg dropped his prison issue on his bunk and headed cautiously across the cell. For the moment, though, the clansman ignored his companion as he stepped up on Obi-Wan’s bunk to grasp the window bars and look out. Obi-Wan knew what the newcomer would see: a piece of the exercise yard a story below them, some storage buildings, an inner electrified wire fence, the outer stone wall, several guard towers, and miles and miles of desolate plains and scrub forests between here and the nearest foothills. While Maogg was checking out the sights, Obi-Wan took advantage of the opportunity to dash to the front of the cell where there was more room to maneuver.

Several minutes passed in silence while the clansman finished his survey of the outer world. Obi-Wan tried to stay loose by bouncing lightly on his toes, hands at his sides, eyes fixed on his opponent, but he could feel the churning increase in his stomach the longer he had to wait. Even without his Force senses, he knew this was going to be a difficult situation.

Maogg finally turned away from the window, dropped lightly to the floor and turned his attention to the Jedi. He gave the young man the same slow methodical survey he had used for the cell and the outside view. The casual stance exuded confidence, and there was a predatory gleam in the blue eyes. He folded his arms, sat down on the bunk and smiled.

~ What the -? ~ Obi-Wan blinked, backed against the bars and stared at the feral smile. ~ What in the six hells is he doing? Everybody else they put in here always attacked right away. ~ He considered his options and decided they were very limited. The apprentice now realized he had made a tactical error by allowing the clansman to hold the position in the center of the cell; he had the bunks, the water and the toilet under his control. It would be almost six hours until the guards rousted everyone out for the evening communal meal. The few things he could remember from the mission briefing were not encouraging or particularly useful; although the clans generally did not share the lowlander prejudice against Jedi, they were fierce and cunning warriors, great hunters, highly possessive and territorial, and had a religion based on sun and moon worship. The apprentice was even more nonplussed when Maogg simply closed his eyes and relaxed.

For over an hour the standoff continued. Obi-Wan slowly paced back and forth across the front of the cell, trying to stay loose. He was pretty certain that the clansman was tracking his exact position through sound and perhaps even smell, though Maogg’s eyes stayed closed. The apprentice could feel trickles of sweat starting to gather on his back and forehead and tried to pretend he was back at the Temple undergoing one of his master’s more fiendish exercises. His mouth felt dry and cottony, almost surely a psychological effect just from knowing he was potentially denied access to water. The excitement from the surge of adrenaline at the initial encounter wore off all too quickly, leaving him acutely aware of just how worn down he had become and making it more and more difficult to concentrate.

The explosion came suddenly, a blur of dark colors as Obi-Wan reached the end of his circuit and started to turn. The impact drove the smaller man into the wall but he managed to get in a punishing elbow to the gut and slide away. After the first flurry of blows the two men stood apart, appraising their respective situations. The clansman stood lightly balanced, a thoughtful respect evident for the unexpectedly swift reflexes of his young foe. Obi-Wan just dug in, grimly determined to hold out as long as possible. He could feel the sweat stinging his eyes, his nose full of the big man’s earthy smell.

The next thirty minutes saw the fight flow all around the cell. The clansman used his size, strength and considerable arsenal of fighting skills to patiently pursue and attack, but seemed unwilling to inflict severe or permanent damage. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had no such inhibitions and was desperate. He used every bit of acrobatic skill and every dirty trick he knew to escape time and time again, but he just couldn’t land any debilitating blows against his elusive opponent. They watched and circled, swift blows drawing blood and grunts, a backhand to the apprentice’s face swelling his eye, a knee to clansman’s back snapping him into the bars, a booted foot sliding off a retreating knee, fists and fingernails gouging mercilessly. The end was almost inevitable, however, as the tiring and frustrated young Jedi finally missed a counterblow and went crashing to the floor unconscious.

Drifting back from darkness, Obi-Wan found himself lying naked on his bunk, the light breeze from the window causing a chill as it dried his sweat. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, his ears rang slightly and he felt sore from head to toe. His hands were tied securely to the bunk’s head support bar with his own prison pants. The clansman stood next to the bunk with his hands on his hips, smiling in amusement as Obi-Wan instinctively clamped his legs together. The apprentice’s gut spasmed in despair as he began to contemplate his likely fate.

Maogg’s expression changed to a professional detachment as he knelt beside the bunk. With a wet cloth he cleaned the blood and sweat from Obi-Wan’s face and chest. He then began a systematic inspection of his prize. Riffling through the short hair, he found the tender spots that made the young man wince and seemed to catalog the old and new bruises on face, shoulders and chest. He carefully inspected the swelling under the left eye, then held the Jedi’s nose until he was forced to open his mouth so the clansman could inspect his mouth and teeth. A puzzled expression on his face, Maogg ran his hands over the Force dampener several times before checking the fit of the control collar. He grinned as he stroked the long soft padawan braid, wrapping it experimentally around his fist and tugging a few times. The clansman frowned as he next ran a hand over Obi-Wan’s midsection, taking note of the tight skin over ribs and pulled in gut.

Obi-Wan did his best to lie in passive silence as the inspection continued, peripherally aware not only of the camera watching them but the two guards who had drifted into view. He kept his face turned away; at such close quarters Maogg’s body odor warred strongly with his herbal scent. The close-up view of the big hands revealed warrior calluses and dirty, broken fingernails. The apprentice gasped involuntarily when Maogg flicked his nipples, both hardening quickly into dark nubs. His resentment grew at being inspected like an animal at the market, and he worked to maintain his composure as the big man began a quick inspection of his joints, moving quickly from hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, then straight on to knees, ankles and feet.

Moving back up, Maogg grabbed the young man’s hip and turned him up on his side so he could squeeze each ass cheek. When he caressed the crack, Obi-Wan could take it no longer and tried to kick as hard as he could. His angle was awkward and the clansman easily intercepted the attempt from his position beside the bunk, twisting the young man onto his back, holding both ankles and forcing the struggling legs apart. His collars rang frantically as Obi-Wan continued to writhe and wriggle as hard as he could, spitting curses, but his efforts seemed to amuse rather than irritate his opponent.

Maogg let the struggle continue for a while, then reached up and grabbed the Jedi’s testicles. He sharply squeezed and twisted until Obi-Wan screamed from the pain. Sagging in relief when the pain finally stopped, Obi-Wan let the clansmen spread his legs without further objection. The apprentice looked down through streaming eyes as he gasped for breath and saw that there were now three guards outside the cell, all with pleased grins. His face burned in humiliation as he realized what kind of picture he must present, legs now splayed widely, his genitals clearly displayed. When he moved to close his legs, a quick squeeze on his sore ball sac immediately dissuaded him. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as he watched the tall clansman kneel on the end of the bunk. His skin felt clammy, bile slowly burning the back of his throat.

Ignoring the comments and laughter from their audience, Maogg proceeded with the same detachment with which he had conducted the rest of his inspection. He carefully checked the Jedi’s genitals for damage, then slowly caressed the flaccid cock as he gently fondled the heavy balls, calluses catching on the soft skin. Obi-Wan’s face turned an even brighter red as he felt his body begin to respond to the stimulation. His cock gradually filled and hardened until it was almost completely erect. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears, felt sweat trickling down his face. The hand that had been rolling his balls suddenly reached up and flicked and rolled his nipples again, causing his cock to jump and slap his belly. Maogg smiled, his blue eyes gleaming. The guards laughed and snickered.

~ Force, why does the bastard have to have Qui-Gon’s eyes? ~ Obi-Wan closed his own eyes and turned his face away, trying not to react but failing miserably.

~ Remember, it’s just your body, only your body, he can’t touch you inside, only your body, only your body. ~

The apprentice automatically reached for the Force for strength, to release his feelings, but ran into a gray wall of nothingness, his fear and revulsion feeding back on itself.

~ Please let him stop, please. ~

A few minutes later he grunted in surprise when a hard finger was suddenly jammed into his anus. He tasted fresh blood as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. There was a sharp pain as a ragged fingernail cut into the tender tissue, then the probing finger found the apprentice’s prostate gland and began rubbing.

~ Oh Force, somebody make him stop, please, somebody, anybody, please make him stop. ~

Obi-Wan moaned as his body responded to the stimulation. His hips thrust helplessly into the hand now fisting his cock as the blunt finger expertly stroked his prostate.

“No, please don’t. . . aaahhhhhh. . . .“

There was no more thought, only the urgent need pounding in his groin. Within a few short minutes his balls tightened and Obi-Wan came hard. A stream of hot semen splattered across his belly and chest. He watched dazedly as Maogg stood up, walked to the side of the bunk, then scooped up a finger of fresh semen, tasted it, slowly nodded. The clansman gave one last measured appraisal of the Jedi before stepping back.

Maogg pulled his tunic off over his head, then turned it inside out and placed it on his bunk. He carefully tore off two strips of cloth from the inner lining before putting it back on. Standing and facing the guards, he pointed to Obi-Wan and announced in a deep, firm voice, “Mine.”

He then knelt next to the bunk and threaded one of the cloth strips around the two collars and tied it off so a long strip hung down onto the Jedi’s chest. He took the other strip and wrapped it firmly around the base of Obi-Wan’s cock and balls, pushing them up and making a visible reminder of his claim. Propping up the Jedi’s knees as far apart as he could stretch them, he patted the sweaty forehead almost fondly. “Stay.” Obi-Wan was too exhausted to protest the command or the obscene display of his bound genitals.

Maogg stood up and faced the guards. He tapped Obi-Wan’s belly, announcing “Boy needs food.”

“Tough shit,” said the senior guard, a man Obi-Wan recognized as the afternoon shift leader. “Ya claimed him, he’s yer problem.”

After a moment of silence, Maogg nodded. “Mine,” he said again, then lay down on the other bunk and closed his eyes.

“Hey,” protested one of the guards. “Is that it? Ain’t he gonna fuck the little pervert?”

“Relax,” replied the senior guard. “I gotta cousin up north in the border guards. He says those clan bastards like to take their time properly breaking in a new pet. Somethin’ about ya gotta wait until the right time of the moon for their first real fuck.” He banged on the bar with his stick. “Hey, prettyboy, ya hear that? Your sorry ass is in for a real long ride after wildboy gets done fuckin with your head, but he’s gotta have the right time of month to fuck his bitch for the first time.” Not getting a rise from the unhappy Jedi, the guards laughed again and headed down the corridor, talking loudly about the ‘wildboy’s Jedi bitch’.

The next few hours were some of the worst of Obi-Wan’s life. As he physically recovered from the forced ejaculation, his initial reaction was denial. He had known, of course, that such things happened, had sat through the briefings back at the Temple, had heard it, even seen it here in the prison, but that was something that happened to other people. Obi-Wan was a good person, strong, a Jedi apprentice, pure in his faith; even after the repeated attempts in his cell he had not truly believed that this could happen to him. Slowly the physical evidence forced him to face reality: the strings of semen drying on his upper body, the tight cloth that held his organ prisoner, cold sweat that belied the hot blood still racing within him, the pain of his battered body. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the rough hands on his skin, touching, taking, so different from those other hands he had dreamed of. The painful intrusion and humiliation of that first time were bad enough, but he knew that there was more, and worse, yet to come. Obi-Wan was caught between the agony of now and fear of the future, his feelings spinning round and round helplessly, starting to grind away at his faith. The unyielding bonds and cold chill of nakedness reminded him constantly that he had been beaten, and little doubts began to grow, pricking his self confidence. Had he really done everything he could have, could he have fought a little harder, a little better, a little faster? His own body had betrayed him; he was a Jedi, surely he should have been able to control his physical reactions instead of coming like a back alley hooker, shouldn’t he? He could not feel the Force to seek answers, and the gray fog in his head only seemed to make the pain worse.

The emotional chaos churned bitterly, but finally Obi-Wan decided to see if he could at least do something about the physical pain of his degrading position. He waited until he was sure Maogg was asleep, then tried to ease his position and close his legs. Within seconds the jagged pain caused by the hand twisting his testicles had him screaming in agony again. After finally stopping, the hard blue eyes promised worse to come as the clansman rearranged the Jedi’s legs even wider before going back to his bunk. Clearly this was not a good time to further test the clansman’s reactions or temper, so Obi-Wan stayed there in humiliated misery, knees bent and legs spread wide, shoulders painfully stiffening, as every guard in the place seemed to make it a point to wander by the cell. They stopped, pointed, stared and made crude comments while Obi-Wan pretended to sleep, the passage of time finally helping to numb both emotional and physical pain. He was relieved when he finally heard the harsh bell that signaled ten minutes before the evening meal and hopefully a release from his bondage.

“Maogg,” he called quietly. “It’s almost time for food.” There was no response so he tried again. “Hey, Maogg, if we’re not standing at the door when the guards come we don’t get to eat.” Blue eyes looked over expectantly, as if waiting for the right response. Obi-Wan licked his swollen lips and swallowed his pride for the moment. “Please, Maogg, can I get up? I need to piss before the meal.”

The clansman smoothly stood up. With a stern glance, he barked, “Stay,” then slowly went over and took a long leak. The sound made Obi-Wan’s own bladder call even more urgently but he wasn’t going to ask again. Maogg finally turned around and untied Obi-Wan’s hands. “Up.” The Jedi heaved himself up, stiff from staying in one position too long, and staggered to the toilet. He had to wait a moment until the painful pins and needles in his arms subsided before he could continue. The clansman watched with an amused smile until Obi-Wan was finished and had turned around.

“You are mine,” said Maogg quietly as he stepped up belly to belly with the Jedi, grabbing a handful of hair at the back of Obi-Wan’s head to force his gaze upward. “You obey me. I take care of you. Understand?”

This was the longest speech yet from the tall northlander, and Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, so he just nodded.

“Obey me and you will leave this place alive with me. Defy me and you will stay here dead. Understand?”

Obi-Wan looked up into the deep blue eyes and saw only absolute calm and certainty. For a moment he felt that he was looking into his master’s eyes and shivered, feeling very vulnerable in his nakedness. He nodded again.

Evidently that wasn’t the right response. Maogg leaned down until he was nose to nose with the Jedi. “Do. You. Understand?” he growled.

“Yes, Maogg,” whispered Obi-Wan, frightened by the intensity of that blue fire gaze.

The clansman released the Jedi’s hair and backhanded him. Obi-Wan ended up sprawled across his bunk and looked up in bewilderment.

“You will call me Mazhten.”

Obi-Wan bounced to his feet in a momentary surge of rebellion as he remembered that the term was the clan equivalent for master. Maogg stared back implacably, almost daring him to make a move. Deciding that for now his priority had to be survival, Obi-Wan again swallowed his pride and anger. “Yes, Mazhten,” he almost whispered through clenched teeth.

“Good boy.” Maogg pointed at the sink. “Wash. Dress. We get food.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” He used the small cloth to wash off the worst of the dried sweat and semen, then quickly dressed and joined the waiting clansman by the cell door.

Maogg reached over and pulled out the strip of cloth tied to Obi-Wan’s collars so that it was clearly visible, patted the Jedi’s shoulder affectionately, and turned back to the door to wait.

************* *************

The evening meal was the only decent one of the day and most prisoners had learned to be on reasonably good behavior since the alternative was to stay locked in their cells on bread and water. At the second ringing of the bell, all of the doors on the corridor opened at once and all the prisoners quickly marched forward until they were facing the wall. At a barked command, everyone turned left and began slowly shuffling forward until there was an orderly queue at the double doors at the end of the corridor. Maogg and Obi-Wan were at the very end of the line. Inside the feeding facility the metal tables and benches were bolted down, so everyone moved forward until they were standing in front of a tray of food previously placed there by trustees. At another barked command from a guard on the overhead walkway, everyone sat down and began eating as much as they could stuff down in the ten minutes allowed before everyone had to stand up again.

Glancing at his tray as they waited for the command to sit, Obi-Wan saw that tonight’s offering included hot soup, soft bread with some sort of spread, a small piece of what might be meat and a small piece of fruit. Within thirty seconds of sitting down, however, Obi-Wan was amazed to see that his tray suddenly held two pieces of bread, four pieces of meat and two fruits. Looking up, he saw Maogg snag a bowl of soup and another fruit from another prisoner. Most of the nearby prisoners looked stunned at how swiftly selected portions of their food had disappeared. The last surprised donor objected, however, and within seconds was screaming in pain, nursing a broken wrist. At the first scream their table was surrounded by guards, holding neuron whips, fingers poised on the triggers.

The shift leader stalked up, angry eyes looking for an excuse to let the whips loose. “Alright, what the fuck’s goin’ on here?”

Three prisoners pointed immediately at Maogg.

“Causin’ trouble already, wildboy? Whatsa matter, ya didn’t understand the rules?”

Maogg held both hands flat on the table and looked straight out, careful not to appear to challenge the shift leader’s authority. “Boy is mine. He needs food. I get him food,” he said quietly.

For a moment the shift leader looked puzzled, but when he looked at Obi-Wan’s flaming cheeks and the strip of cloth hanging down from his collar, he broke out in laughter. “Well, I’ll be fucked. I guess ya was serious about takin’ care of your little Jedi bitch.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “Alright, wildboy, I’ll tell ya what. Since the rest of these sorry assholes obviously ain’t fast enough or man enough to take care of their own food, ya can take what you’re fast enough to grab and mean enough to hang on to. I catch ya overdoin’ it or takin’ someone’s entire meal, it’s a week on bread and water for both of ya. Fair enough, wildboy?”

“Fair,” nodded Maogg.

“Any of the rest of ya sorry asswipes got any problems?” The shift leader glared around the room but was met only by sullen silence. “Alright then, ya got seven minutes left to eat.”

Everyone went back to wolfing down their food. Obi-Wan sat there, feeling like everyone in the room was either staring at him or talking about him, until Maogg grabbed his braid and yanked.

“Eat!” glared his new keeper.

Obi-Wan started to reply but thought better of it and instead began stuffing food in his mouth as fast as he could. He was pretty certain he would dearly regret not finishing everything Maogg had provided for him.

Back in the cell Obi-Wan stood uncertainly by the door and watched as Maogg folded his prison issue clothing and put it neatly on his shelf. Pawing through the small toiletry kit, the clansman chose only the toothbrush and hair comb to put out, leaving everything else in its container. He then seated himself cross-legged on his bunk, back against the wall, and looked at Obi-Wan. “Here,” he grunted, pointing to a position halfway between the two bunks.

Obi-Wan quickly moved to the designated spot and stood quietly.

“Tell me what you do here.”

For the next several minutes the apprentice described the schedule: daily meals, exercise yard every other day, uniforms and sheets exchanged occasionally, showers also occasionally. When he had finished, Maogg sat for a while and seemed to think. Finally he gestured to Obi-Wan to come closer.

“Your duty is to serve,” said Maogg flatly.

“Yes, Mazhten,” replied Obi-Wan, remembering his lessons from Temple that that was usually a safe answer if you didn’t know what else to say.

“In here, you will clean and perform whatever duties the rules of this place require.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

“You will leave my marks on until I remove or change them,” said Maogg, pointing to Obi-Wan’s neck and crotch.

“Yes, Mazhten.” The apprentice was glad the strip around his sore balls had not been tightened any further.

“It is the duty of all who serve the gods to become strong. You are weak, boy. I will fix that.”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “I don’t understand, Mazhten.”

“It is our duty to be strong to better serve the gods,” explained Maogg patiently. “You will eat the food I get for you. In the yard, we will exercise and we will run. When we can not go to the yard, we will exercise in here. I will show you. Each day I will check your progress.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan’s glance turned uncertainly to Maogg’s crotch as he wondered what other ‘service’ he would be required to perform.

Maogg watched his eyes, giving a small laugh. He rubbed his crotch lightly, “All service comes in the rightness of time, boy, as the gods require. You will come to my bed when you are ready to offer the proper service in return for my care.”

“You mean I get to sleep in my own bunk?” asked the Jedi skeptically.

“Until you ask to come to mine,” replied the clansman with an enigmatic smile. That seemed to end the conversation since he then closed his eyes and ignored Obi-Wan’s presence.

Obi-Wan retreated to his own bunk to mull over the events of the day. He kept a surreptitious eye on Maogg, not really believing that the clansman didn’t intend to fuck him raw that night.

Maogg was clearly a strong, experienced and highly skilled fighter; he had subdued an almost senior padawan while obviously trying to avoid damaging him. Obi-Wan wondered briefly how he had been captured, but let that thought go when he realized from his own past experience that almost anyone could be taken under the right, or unlucky, circumstances. Based on their more private exchanges, Maogg seemed to be reasonably intelligent and thoughtful, but in the presence of the guards was content to play the role of the dumb savage. If he was considered a dumb savage, however, the guards had certainly seemed to have an extra degree of fear or respect for him; there had never been less than four guards present when Maogg was outside the cell, and he had been allowed to retain his native clothes. From what he had seen so far, Obi-Wan held little hope that he might be able to sneak up on the clansman to knock him out and was certain he would be severely punished in some fashion for any unsuccessful attempts. The most puzzling aspect was Maogg’s apparently absolute conviction that he was going to escape; since Obi-Wan had little choice in the matter, he decided to try to play along as best he could.

The bell for ten minutes to lights out rang out, interrupting the apprentice’s thoughts. He waited for Maogg to relieve himself and brush his teeth before cautiously using the facilities himself. After he finished cleaning his teeth and face, he turned around in time to see Maogg appropriate the blanket from Obi-Wan’s bunk.

“Hey, what – ’’ The protest died on his lips as he saw the expression on Maogg’s face.

“You have a problem, boy?”

“No, Mazhten.”

Without another word the clansman spread the second blanket on his bunk, removed his boots and went to bed.

As the lights went out, Obi-Wan went to bed in his clothes also, hoping that his two sheets folded over would provide some small measure of warmth during the night. He was starting to get a really nasty feeling about why he might want or need to sleep in that other bunk, but hoped desperately he would be proven wrong.

********* ***********

Sleep did not come easily to Obi-Wan. He was sore and stiff from the day’s ordeals, there was a cool night breeze that got steadily cooler, and his anxiety about his presumed upcoming rape was growing. The nightly sounds of pleasure and pain that floated in the corridor from the other cells only fueled his imaginings of what was to come. He had finally dozed off a bit when he felt rough hands toss him from the bed to the floor.

~ Oh Force, this is it, he’s going to do it, ~ he screamed inside as a big hand at the scruff of his neck forced him to his hands and knees on the cold floor. He tried to stay quiet, not wanting to show his fear and revulsion, but suddenly realized that he was now crouching on the floor alone. Blinking in the pale moonlight, he looked up to see Maogg standing on the bunk by the window. Obi-Wan started to get up.

“Stay,” grunted the clansman. “You will show respect for the Mother.”

Obi-Wan had a vague memory from the long ago mission briefing about a Mother goddess, but the tone of voice left no doubt that there would be dire consequences if he did not stay down on the floor. He settled back into what he hoped was a respectful looking crouch, shivering a bit in the chill air.

Maogg grasped the bars tightly, turned his face up to the moon, and began a lilting chant. The power and clarity in the voice were astounding; listening in awe, Obi-Wan could easily imagine the piercing tones carrying across the empty miles outside the prison walls, singing a devotion and respect that would not be contained.

Pounding footsteps slid to a halt outside the cell. Obi-Wan tried to watch the guards out of the side of his eye.

“Shit, it’s the fuckin’ wildboy.”

“What the fuck is the crazy bastard doing?”

“I dunno. I ain’t never seen no shit like that. Look at him, will ya, it’s like he don’t even know where he’s at.”

“This is crazy. Zap the fucker, shut him up.”

Measured tread of authority, a calm new voice.

“I wouldn’t do that. They get crazy mean if ya try to stop them from singing to the Mother Moon.”

“Aw, c’mon, Zuq. Is he gonna do this shit every night?”

The older guard nodded. “They sing every night when the moon is highest, and pray every day to Father Sun when he is brightest.”

“I still say this is stupid. Let’s zap him.”

“Not me.” The first voice lowered. “I’ve heard they can do stuff.”

“What the fuck ya whining about?” in a scornful tone.

“They do stuff. Ya know, like make ya go sterile or get crotch rot, or worse.”

“I don’t believe this shit. What about it, Zuq?”

“It’s just a little noise and he’s not hurting anyone far as I can tell. Zap him if ya want, but don’t say nobody warned ya later.”

There was silence in the corridor as the pure tones continued to penetrate the night air.

“Aw, fuck it. C’mon, we got rounds to make.” Two sets of footsteps faded out.

Obi-Wan watched as the older guard stayed for a few moments more. The man finally shook his head, then took a medallion from under his tunic and kissed it before turning to leave. The padawan waited patiently, considering these odd new bits of information about his strange cellmate.

A few minutes later Maogg finished and returned to his own bunk without a glance at the Jedi on the floor. Obi-Wan waited to make sure it was safe, then crawled back into his own bunk to try to get what sleep he could.

*************** ******************

Obi-Wan woke to find himself the subject of contemplation by a pair of serene blue eyes. The clansman was sitting cross-legged on his bunk. The Jedi looked resentfully at the carelessly thrown back blankets as he tried to rub some life into his cold, stiff limbs.

A clang at the bars drew both men’s attention. It was a guard with the morning bread and cheese. He was normally a gruff, taciturn fellow so Obi-Wan was surprised when he stopped to watch the clansman.

“Up,” commanded Maogg, gesturing toward the cell door.

The apprentice obediently went over to fetch breakfast, placing the food on their respective bunks before heading toward the toilet.

“No.” Maogg pointed to the spot between the bunks, so Obi-Wan moved back to what seemed to be Maogg’s favored position for handing out guidance and wisdom.

“Strip.”

Lips pursed, eyes stormy, the padawan complied, wondering what was going to happen next.

“White Panther, eh,” came a rusty voice from outside the cell.

Maogg looked up and nodded at the guard, a question in his eyes.

“Thought so. Used to work up north till I got the joint disease.”

“Uhm,” grunted the clansman.

“Much rather fight your boys than the scum down south. Always fought honorable, your bunch did.”

Maogg nodded in acknowledgement.

“Got yourself a good boy, there, even if he is one of them fuckin’ Jedi.”

An eyebrow raised quizzically as the head tilted.

“Oh, yeah. Put down everyone they threw at him since he got here over a month ago.”

Blue eyes shifted back to watch Obi-Wan as if digesting this new information.

“He’ll take a bit of breaking in, but I reckon ya can handle him if anyone can.” The guard gestured at Obi-Wan’s crotch. “I see ya already milked him.”

While Maogg nodded at the guard, Obi-Wan blushed as he guessed at the meaning of the cloth strip bound around his genitals. The humiliation from being forced to ejaculate and then put on display still burned.

“Well, I gotta be goin’, I guess.” The guard looked around the cell, smiling as he noted where the blankets had ended up. “Hey, prettyboy.”

Obi-Wan looked up.

“There’s a freezin’ spell comin’ in, prettyboy. Just thought ya’d like to know.” The guard laughed as if he had made a tremendous witticism and pushed his cart down the corridor, still chuckling to himself.

Maogg didn’t give Obi-Wan time to contemplate the implications of that last statement. He rose and did a quick inspection of the young Jedi’s body, checking his injuries, flexing his joints, checking muscle tone and thumping his ribs. After allowing Obi-Wan to relieve himself, they went through a series of stretching exercises before they ate the meager breakfast. After the meal, Maogg retired to a front corner of the cell to sit, eyes closed, as the padawan made the beds with the regulation one blanket per bed and tidied up the cell.

*********** ************

“Front and center, asswipes,” called the guard as he went down the row of cells. Consulting a list, he called out various prisoners. “Move it, exercise time. Haul yer lazy asses.”

The sound of shuffling feet was the only noise as the closely guarded group of prisoners moved down the ramp, through the double gates and out into the large exercise yard. High security inmates were allowed out in randomly chosen groups of twenty to thirty every other day for two hours if the weather was reasonable. It was a privilege valued almost as much as the evening meal.

As soon as the guards retreated to the overhead walkways, the group gathered around the newcomer. Maogg patiently answered questions for a few minutes before starting to walk away, Obi-Wan trailing behind him.

“Hey, pervert, finally got your ass kicked, eh?” said a short, sallow prisoner who had been one of Obi-Wan’s first victims. He reached out to grab the Jedi’s butt.

“Mine,” said Maogg quietly as the little man suddenly dangled in the air, a big fist around his neck. “Don’t touch.”

“Agghh, sure, sure, whatever ya say, just lemme down.” He was dropped like a sack of rocks.

The clansman looked around casually as Obi-Wan stood quietly with his head down. Finally, someone cleared his throat. “Nice bitch ya got.”

“Yes. We exercise now. Boy will need to be strong to serve me.”

There was a general snicker and the group parted to allow the pair to leave.

Maogg took his prize to the far end of the yard and went through some simple stretching exercises before starting off on a slow circuit of the yard to warm up. After the first few minutes he picked up the pace and they spent the next hour and a half running around and around the yard.

The late morning breeze was brisk and at first Obi-Wan felt good as he warmed up and began to enjoy the exercise, working off the stiffness left from his injuries. It was the first time in quite a while that he had actually been able to get in a good physical workout instead of spending the time drifting around the edge of the yard either watching his back or fending someone off. Fortunately he had not usually been the center of attention as a lot of the focus at most sessions went either to turf struggles or to betting when owners would set bitches against each other. Bitch fights were among the most desperate the apprentice had ever seen as the consequences for the losers were severe: not only did the winning bitch get to fuck the loser, but the loser’s owner usually punished him again when they got back to their cell if he was a forced instead of consensual bitch. The first few exercise sessions had been very enlightening for the young Jedi, both as to the viciousness of the inmate relations and the amount and types of contraband material available from the evidently bribable prisoner trustees and guards. Almost as fascinating had been the insights on the prisoner hierarchy: numerous small groups led by the strongest prisoners, shifting group memberships as guards transferred prisoners between the three high security floors, a few individuals and several pairs who were unattractive enough, inoffensive enough or had enough money from family or friends to drift harmlessly along the fringes of the prison society.

After the first half hour, enjoyment turned to work. Maogg kept up a good pace around the boring circle and Obi-Wan began to realize just how much of an edge he had lost off his conditioning during his time in the prison. The other prisoners would shout lewd comments each time he passed to encourage him. By the time they slowed down to a walk to cool down the padawan was dripping and panting while it seemed that the clansman was barely sweating.

The guards were beginning to gather as the exercise period neared its end. Maogg and Obi-Wan were doing a few last stretches when Maogg suddenly stopped.

“Down,” he ordered. When Obi-Wan did not immediately respond he swept the apprentice’s feet out from under him; finally the young man figured out what was wanted and crouched on his hands and knees. Maogg went to one knee, his face up to the sun now high overhead, and began a low, sing song chant. It was deeper and rougher than the homage to the moon: a song of strength, a warrior’s song. Obi-Wan noticed that it seemed to reverberate around them rather than soar across the plain; he also saw that everyone else had backed away to the other end of the yard, some muttering to themselves. When he finished, Maogg gathered his possession and strolled over to join the line of prisoners that had formed, supremely unconcerned about anyone else’s reaction to his activities.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Obi-Wan was allowed to wash up at the small sink before eating the bread and cheese that waited for them in their cell. Maogg began teaching the apprentice some of the exercises they would be doing on the days they could not go to the yard. The evening meal was relatively uneventful; Obi-Wan ended up with three extra tuberous vegetables and an extra piece of something crunchy dripping in greasy gravy.

Obi-Wan had just finished brushing his teeth when the ten minute bell rang.

“Strip,” came the brusque command from the bunk behind him. His sphincter tightened but he quickly obeyed, then stood between the two bunks.

Maogg rose and circled around the apprentice, eyeing him critically. He checked the swelling under Obi-Wan’s eye, which had by now turned a rather spectacular shade of purple, and made sure the strip of cloth was still firmly in place around his genitals. Obi-Wan bit his lip and kept silent during the inspection, even when the broken fingernails caught on the sensitive skin of his scrotum.

“Your duty is to serve,” said Maogg flatly as he stopped in front of the young man.

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan kept his eyes directed downward.

“You ran poorly today.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

“Next time you will do better.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

Maogg leaned down until he was face to face and said very softly, “Serve me and I will take care of you.”

Obi-Wan licked dry lips, his breathing tight as the man’s odor filled his nose. “Yes, Mazhten.”

The clansman moved around behind the Jedi. Obi-Wan heard a quick rustle, then the command, “Bed.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” Turning around to his bunk, he saw that tonight the blanket and both sheets were gone. Grim faced, he moved to the head of his bunk and reached for his pants.

“Oww,” yelped Obi-Wan as two stinging slaps reddened his butt.

“Did I say you could put clothes on?”

Obi-Wan looked angrily at the clansman, fists clenched at his side, breathing heavily through his nose as he fought to control his temper. After a long moment, he finally spat out through gritted teeth, “No, Mazhten.”

“Bed.” After the curt command, Maogg ignored the Jedi, took off his boots and got in bed.

Curling up at one end of his bunk, Obi-Wan tried to get some sleep. The night breeze was even colder than the previous evening, and he shivered all night. A few hours later he was again dumped on the floor, and crouched quietly while the clansman finished his devotions to the moon. Morning found him tired, stiff, very cold but still unfucked. Glancing up through bloodshot eyes at the serene blue gaze watching him from under two blankets the next morning, he wondered just what the bloody bastard wanted from him.

************ *************

The day passed relatively quietly. Maogg taught the young man a series of exercises they could perform in the limited space. Obi-Wan pretended he was simply learning new katas back at the Temple, but was surprised at how tired he felt by the time they ran through a few hours of almost nonstop variations and combinations of stretches, pushups, pull-ups, running in place, and what seemed to be unarmed combat moves. The apprentice had worked up a good sweat by the time they stopped for the clansman’s devotions to the Sun Father. From his place on the floor, Obi-Wan watched almost enviously as Maogg knelt by the cell door, graceful and seemingly unaffected by the hard exercise. During the afternoon the padawan attempted to meditate but could not find his center amidst his swirling emotions. At the communal meal the two cellmates were pushed further up in line by the guards so they ended up with different prisoners at their table; Obi-Wan overheard the guards making bets on Maogg’s ‘hunting’ skills. One of their new meal mates did object to the clansman’s appropriations, but ended up with two broken fingers for his troubles. Obi-Wan was barely able to finish all the extra food before they had to leave.

The evening was becoming a particularly anxious time for the young Jedi. He hauled himself up to the window, gazing out into the clear, cold air, and thought about home.

~ Qui-Gon, I know you are out there somewhere. I can’t feel the Force, but I know you are there, and I hope you are looking for me. I’m afraid, Master, afraid of this place, afraid of this man who looks so much like you, afraid of what is going to happen to me and the things I may be forced to do. I just want you to know I love you, Qui-Gon, and I waited all those years to ask you to be my lover, but I’m running out of time and choices, and I just hope you will still want me after whatever they do to me here. ~ Obi-Wan squeezed the bars hard, knuckles white. ~ Please, Master, if you are searching for me, please look a little faster. I don’t know how long I can stand it here. ~ He rested his head against the cold steel, fighting back the sting of tears. The air was already colder than the previous night and he was worried about what was to come, worried and lonely and fearful.

After the harsh clang of the ten minute bell, Obi-Wan stood naked between the bunks as Maogg began his nightly inspection. The young Jedi tried to remain passive, giving no outward indication of his feelings as the big hands touched his body, ignoring the occasional scratch from the broken fingernails.

Apparently satisfied with the results of his examination, Maogg paused in front of the young man. He leaned over until the two were face to face. “Your duty is to serve,” said Maogg very quietly.

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan kept his eyes directed downward, his heart racing from the older man’s nearness, Maogg’s scent and sound filling his senses.

“Serve me and I will take care of you.” A silent, intense whisper.

Obi-Wan looked up, licking dry lips. He looked into the deep blue eyes, feeling his gut churn. Unable to sustain the contact, he swallowed and dropped his eyes. “Yes, Mazhten,” he whispered.

Maogg stepped away, moved around behind the young man to strip the other bunk. Tossing the blanket and sheets onto his own bunk, the clansman stood by the sink as he gave his curt command, “Bed.”

Turning around warily, Obi-Wan saw Maogg pointing to a spot almost directly under the open window. Obi-Wan crawled onto the bunk and sat at the indicated spot, hugging his knees tightly. Maogg turned back to the sink, taking one of the spare sheets and thoroughly soaking it. He then took the dripping sheet and wrung it out over the surprised Jedi, repeating the process until Obi-Wan and the mattress were drenched. Leaving the wet sheet in the sink, Maogg then went to bed.

Obi-Wan had never tolerated the cold particularly well, and the previous two nights had been miserable. Tonight, however, he knew he might well have reached the limit of how far his dogged stubbornness and fear could sustain him. The temperature was dropping rapidly; within a half hour he was shivering violently. Taking a chance, he silently eased off the bed and went to the front of the cell where he could stand in the distinctly warmer air coming from the corridor. Within a few moments he was writhing in silent agony, his back pressed against the bars. One large hand was pressed over his mouth to keep him quiet while the other squeezed his testicles. Finally the hold was released, Obi-Wan was carried back to the bed and again doused with water. This time Maogg used the wet sheet to tie the Jedi’s hands behind his back.

The next few hours went beyond miserable to torturous. Occasionally guards would wander by on their rounds and look in, but they never intervened. The temperature continued to drop and Obi-Wan could see his breath in the cold air. He was shivering continuously, teeth chattering, nose dripping. Without his Force sense he could not regulate his temperature internally, had not, in fact, even been able to meditate very well for several tendays. He was rapidly coming to understand that his situation was now a question of survival versus submission. Starting to drift in and out of blackness, he was painfully jerked back to wakefulness when he was grabbed by his bound hands and dumped to the icy floor. He knelt, hands still behind his back, shaking uncontrollably, while Maogg sang to his god, his devotion ringing across the empty miles in the freezing night air.

When the clansman had finished, he dropped lightly off the bed and went to the sink. He turned around with a full cup of water and stood watching the shivering padawan. He glanced briefly at the guards who had gathered outside the cell, then completely ignored them.

There was a long moment of silence as the apprentice looked up into the still blue eyes. He knew then, without any doubt, that his enigmatic new master was fully in control and it truly was his survival that was at stake. Obi-Wan decided there was no value to anyone if he died in this awful place; better to take a chance on life and getting back to his true master as damaged goods than never get back at all. Also choosing to ignore the voyeuristic guards, he buried his pride and anger, dropped his eyes and shuffled forward on his knees. Bowing his head to the floor in front of Maogg, he managed to croak out, “mmmazz’tttn.”

“What do you want?”

“Ttto ssserve you, mmmazttn.”

“You understand that once started, you cannot go back.”

One last spasm wrenched his gut as the apprentice shivered and rocked. He swallowed hard before managing to reply, “Yyyes, mmmaztn.”

Maogg moved to his bunk, unlaced the front of his pants and drew out a semi-erect penis. He sat on the edge of the bunk. “You may serve me now.”

Obi-Wan shuffled on his knees until he was between Maogg’s legs. He eyed the large penis uncertainly, trying to calm his churning stomach. He leaned forward to nuzzle the warm organ, but he was still shivering uncontrollably and his teeth chattered so much he couldn’t get his mouth around it.

Abruptly, Maogg stood up, shoving his penis back inside his pants. He untied Obi-Wan’s hands, then for the next several minutes he used the remaining extra sheet to thoroughly dry the young man and rub warmth back into his shaking limbs. When the Jedi was no longer shivering, Maogg again took his penis out and sat on the edge of his bunk.

Moving back into position between the clansman’s legs, Obi-Wan swallowed hard as he tentatively reached out.

~ Force, even soft the damned thing is huge, ~ he thought shakily, his stomach still fluttering. Putting his head down, ~ When was the last time he took a shower? ~ was his next passing thought as he got a huge whiff of pungent body odor.

Closing his eyes and doing his best to send his mind somewhere else, Obi-Wan set to work. He knew the theory of fellatio, but had no practical experience to fall back on. Working his tongue down the long length toward the dark curly hair, Obi-Wan almost gagged on the odors of old sweat and urine. He used his hands to fondle the large balls and stroke the penis as it hardened, licking and sucking, trying to ignore the sour taste. Licking up and down the entire length of the organ and around the soft sac, Obi-Wan had to pause to spit out the wiry pubic hairs he accidentally inhaled. He attempted to take the full cock into his mouth and only partially succeeded. Trying to compensate with his hands, he stroked faster as the clansman began to respond by thrusting his hips. Maogg moved swiftly to completion, holding Obi-Wan’s head to force his cock deeper into his mouth. The young man was desperately trying to breathe as the enormous cock filled his mouth and the jet of hot semen caught him by surprise. The large hand on the back of his head prevented him from pulling back; he swallowed some of the liquid but much of it dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. Maogg pulled back with a contented sigh and leaned back on his elbows.

A few seconds later Obi-Wan crawled desperately to the toilet and started heaving. Maogg was immediately at his side, supporting him and stroking his back. When the spasms finally stopped, Obi-Wan gratefully took the cup of water offered by Maogg and rinsed his mouth out several times. The rough friction dried and warmed him as the clansman wiped him down again with the dry sheet, then helped him into bed. Obi-Wan felt the still-clothed clansman spooning behind him, Maogg rubbing his belly soothingly as the combined heat from both bodies soon made them comfortable.

Obi-Wan was silent for several moments, accepting the shared warmth as his stomach settled down. He finally ventured a meek, “I’m sorry, Mazhten.”

“Service can be difficult at the beginning.” Maogg shrugged. “You will learn.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

The young man lay quietly, eyes closed, arms hugged tightly to himself, trying to make himself as small as possible in the limited space. Try as he might, he could not help replaying the recent events in his mind, resentful for yet another dream the clansman had stolen from him. The sour salt taste of Maogg’s semen lingered in his mouth as the sharp odor still filled his nose. He was very aware of the large body behind him and he could not help but draw a bitter comparison of the large hand massaging his midsection to the hand that he had hoped to have there.

Obi-Wan had finally started to drift off to sleep when he felt the hand that had been rubbing his belly slide to his hip and then to his ass. He stiffened in panic and turned over to face Maogg, threw all remaining pride and dignity out the window and decided to beg.

“Please, Mazhten, please don’t do that to me. I will do anything else you want, I swear it, just please, please don’t do it,” he pleaded.

“That is not for you to say.”

“Please, Mazhten, I’ve never had sex before. Please,” he whimpered desperately as a tear finally escaped.

“You have never taken or been taken?” asked Maogg wonderingly. At the answering nod, he asked, “Are you a first born?”

“No, Mazhten. Where I come from everyone is free to give or withhold their body as they choose, not just first born. I. . . I was saving myself for someone I care for very much, I wanted him to be my first lover.”

“I have heard of these things, but did not believe them. This is truly your way?”

“Yes, Mazhten. We choose the person and hope they also choose us; we do not take. Just as Jedi do not steal babies, or have sex with children, or practice dark magic. All of these things are against our laws and our beliefs.”

Maogg snorted dismissively. “Only the southerners believe such nonsense about Jedi. I have met other Jedi, and I have looked into you, and I know such nonsense is stupid. I did not know about your manner of taking, but this is good.” In the dim light from the corridor Obi-Wan could see the satisfied smile. “The Mother will be thrice pleased.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There is much about us that you do not seem to understand. The Father Sun gives us strength of body, to fight, to hunt, to live. Mother Moon, however, gives us inner strength and the wisdom to properly use strength of mind and body. The Mother teaches us the Way of Life and how to use her special gifts. New takings are made when the moon is fullest to honor her. She will be thrice pleased when I take you; singly honored for the taking itself, doubly honored because you were a strong and honorable foe, and thrice honored because you have many seasons and are still untouched.”

“Mazhten, please, is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Maogg raised a hand to softly caress the cheek where the distraught tears had escaped. “You are mine and the Mother *will* have her offering.” He leaned in very close and spoke in a stern voice, pitched very low to avoid the monitors. “You are thinking like Father Sun, strong but muddy and emotional. You must learn to think like the Mother.”

Obi-Wan wiped his eyes, ashamed of his weakness, and made a querying noise.

“You have been in this place long enough to understand that the guards have great power over us and also want to be entertained by us. There are some who understand my people’s ways, and they have been willing to let my claim on you stand because they know what will happen in a few days. If I do not make the offering, they will think I am weak and they will take you away. Since no single man except me has been able to subdue you, they will move you to one of the four man cells. You are a good fighter, but you will not be able to stand very long against three others. Would you really rather have three of those southern animals using you than me?”

“No, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan shuddered at the prospect.

“I will keep you and you will serve me. In return I will teach you and take care of you. It is the right way of things. The Mother teaches that pain without purpose is a bad thing; obey me and life will be good, disobey and you will be punished. I will help you grow strong so that we will be able to leave this place when the time is right.”

“Yes, Mazhten. I think I understand.”

“Good. Sleep now.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan turned over, hesitated a moment, then let Maogg spoon against him again on the narrow bunk. Although resigned to his fate for the moment, it was still quite a while before his thoughts quieted enough to let him drift off into the pleasant warmth.

**************** *****************

The next morning Obi-Wan woke when he felt the man beside him slide out of bed. Looking up, he saw Maogg speaking quietly to their morning guard. When he turned back with their morning bread and cheese, he seemed pleased with himself but spoke only a few curt commands as they went through the familiar routine of inspection and cleaning up. It was an exercise day and they found themselves herded out with a midmorning group.

As the prisoners began to drift apart to their respective groups or pairings, Obi-Wan noticed the man whose fingers the clansman had broken at the previous night’s meal. He had three others with him and they looked in an ugly mood.

“Mazhten,” he called softly. “To your left.”

An almost imperceptible nod was the only response.

The other prisoner moved directly into their path and stopped, hands on hips. “Well, well,” he said with a sneer. “If it isn’t the animal and his perverted little bitch.”

Maogg stared back silently.

“Listen, asshole,” continued the prisoner. “I know about you animals, living up in the hills and scaring folks with your mumbojumbo about suns and moons and that shit, and I ain’t scared of you. You might be able to take on that Jedi baby-fuckin’ piece of shit, but that don’t give ya rights to come in and steal food from real men, ‘specially not to give to your slimeball bitch.”

“I will do what I need to do,” replied Maogg quietly, seemingly oblivious to the other three prisoners now circling in behind him.

“Not on my turf, asshole. Get him, boys.”

All four men tried to attack the clansman but had clearly not counted on Obi-Wan protecting Maogg’s back. The Jedi took out one surprised prisoner in a flurry of blows; when he turned back he found that Maogg had already put down one man and was dealing handily with the remaining two. In just a few minutes all four attackers were unconscious on the ground in various states of disrepair. The clansman looked at the Jedi for a few moments before nodding to himself and silently turning away to continue walking to the other end of the yard. Obi-Wan allowed himself a touch of resentment that his effort had not even been acknowledged, since it was generally not expected among the prisoners for a ‘forced bitch’, as he was now obviously considered, to stand up for his owner. The apprentice did not have long to think about it, however, as the clansman went straight into their workout and stepped up the pace from their previous session, forcing Obi-Wan to work hard to keep up. The attitude of most of the other prisoners was made abundantly clear by crude comments as they passed by on their run; one slender young man crouched at his owner’s feet spat disgustedly in the Jedi’s direction.

The afternoon passed quietly enough. Obi-Wan was in a morose, almost sullen mood. The aftereffects of his wet exposure to the freezing cold still lingered; his head felt stuffy and his nose still dripped sporadically. He was not happy about having had to submit; tiny needles of shame and guilt kept jabbing at his self-confidence and esteem. His anxiety about his future, both his future duties and any hope of a possible rescue, kept him on edge. At the evening meal he choked on a stringy piece of meat; with the time he lost recovering he did not manage to finish all of his food. As a result, when they returned to the cell Maogg made him strip early and do pushups while he dispassionately lectured him about wasting hard won resources and the need to develop his strength and stamina. At lights out Maogg curtly told him he would require service after moonrise and allowed him to crawl into their shared bunk. Although grateful for the warmth, by that time Obi-Wan was in an exceptionally foul mood.

With his usual uncanny timing, Maogg arose when the moon was highest and went to the window. Obi-Wan adopted his now customary respectful crouch, shivering in the cold air. Devotions finished, the clansman went to his bunk, unlaced his pants and sat down. The younger man swallowed hard, then crawled over between the long legs. Maogg patted the Jedi’s head; in the dim light from the corridor Obi-Wan could see a pleased smile as the padawan took the flaccid cock in hand and began licking and sucking.

“Good news,” whispered Maogg as his cock rapidly hardened. “The moon will be full in three nights. I will begin preparing you for the taking.”

Although he did not stop his ministrations, Obi-Wan felt his gut tighten and had to battle hard to stop from vomiting right then and there. The taste of the bile rising in his throat threatened to overwhelm the taste of the sour, earthy cock in his mouth. He had not been paying much attention to the standard date lately and calculated furiously for a few seconds.

~ No. Force, no. Not that day, of all days. ~ He almost gagged in despair. ~ My twenty first birthday. That was supposed to be Qui-Gon’s day. All those years of waiting, planning, hoping. All destroyed by this Sith spawned place and this fucking bastard. No! ~

A red haze hung before the Jedi’s vision as the many tendays of anxiety, frustration and loneliness finally erupted in a blind rage at the sheer injustice of it all. Pulling back, he screamed in anger. Focusing on the nearest available point of attack, he grabbed the clansman’s cock in both hands and tried to bite down. He heard a thunderous roar above him before he flew across the cell and crashed into the far wall.

Shaking his head as he quickly recovered consciousness, Obi-Wan was dimly aware that the outer corridor had gone silent except for the pounding of boots as guards hurried to investigate the disturbance. He tried to sit up, then found himself hauled to his feet by his collars.

Maogg leaned down until he was eye to eye with the the apprentice. “You have disobeyed and have drawn blood where you should not. You will be punished,” he said in a quiet, level voice.

“Fuck you,” mumbled Obi-Wan defiantly, his head still swimming. He twisted away and kicked viciously. Maogg backed off from the unexpected attack and stumbled over onto a bunk. Obi-Wan staggered to the front of the cell, hanging onto the bars to hold himself up. As his vision cleared, he saw the clansman charging toward him. With a ragged yell, Obi-Wan recklessly threw himself forward. His shoulder connected solidly with Maogg’s gut, sending both men whoomphing down. He tried to scramble up, but the clansman grabbed him and the two men rolled on the floor. The snarling apprentice briefly managed to claw free and landed another satisfying blow, blood trickling from Maogg’s nose. With a quick rush the clansman enveloped Obi-Wan in a bear hug and took him down. Maogg used his size and weight to wrap up the smaller man, holding the wriggling Jedi on the floor while he snaked an arm around his throat and began throttling him. Obi-Wan fought as long as he could, but eventually lay limply, circles floating before his eyes as he began to black out. The clansman finally released him, then stood wiping the blood from his face, watching the young man gasping for breath.

Shaking his head almost sadly, Maogg replied softly, “You *will* learn obedience.” Dragging the Jedi with him, he moved to his bunk and sat down. He flipped the naked young man over so that Obi-Wan was draped over his thighs. He captured both wrists in one huge hand and held them behind the Jedi’s back and used one leg to pin his ankles. Maogg then began to spank the young man, stinging blows that rang loudly. Outside the cell, the two guards smiled and settled in to watch the show as the hill man disciplined his bitch.

At first still groggy from his near asphyxiation, it took Obi-Wan a few seconds to understand what was happening to him. His initial reaction was disbelief, then shocked outrage.

~ No! How dare he! I haven’t been spanked since I was fifteen and lied to Qui-Gon when he caught me trying to sneak in half-drunk. No one else has the right to do that to me! ~

The apprentice rode the crest of a huge adrenalin spike to surge up, arching his back, and managed to pull his legs and one arm loose. Clawing, kicking and biting, he tried to escape his tormentor, but his freedom was short-lived. Maogg grabbed the young Jedi and threw both of them down hard to the floor. Obi-Wan’s head slammed into the unyielding surface as the weight of the clansman drove his breath out in an explosive gust. Maogg took advantage of the apprentice’s dazed state to tie his hands together behind his back. The clansman seated himself again, repositioned the recalcitrant young Jedi, and continued the punishment.

Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it and immediately realized he was now trapped in the humiliating situation. His hands were pushed up high, painfully pulling at his shoulder joints, and his legs were held firmly. The first crash of the hard open hand against soft skin seared across his awareness, his entire body jerking from the power of the blow. The indignity of the punishment was driven home as the young man lay helplessly across the clansman’s legs, unable to escape as the blows continued. Obi-Wan felt blood rushing to his head, partly from the degrading position and partly from anger.

Maogg continued the methodical spanking, periodically shifting his target to cover the entire buttocks and upper thighs. Initially Obi-Wan was still so angry he was able to resist the pain. As the assault relentlessly continued, however, the pain overcame his resistance. He yelled, he cursed, he screamed, tears began flowing, but the blows continued without pause. Obi-Wan felt the burning heat spreading and each new blow became agony. He was beyond feeling emotions; there was no anger, no humiliation, only pain. It became so bad he shamelessly sobbed and begged, apologized, swore to obey, but still it continued until Obi-Wan was certain his glowing ass must be lighting up the cell from the heat. His face felt almost as hot and red as he flushed from embarrassment.

Eventually Maogg was satisfied and stopped, hand centered on the Jedi’s back. Obi-Wan’s whole consciousness was filled with pain and he was sobbing incoherently. For almost fifteen minutes, they simply sat there, Maogg rubbing his hand in circles on Obi-Wan’s back, until the young man had quieted. Outside the cell, the shift leader had arrived and chased the guards off to make their other rounds, but still lingered himself.

Gently Maogg lifted the Jedi down until he was on his knees, his body still trembling. He untied Obi-Wan’s hands, letting him put his forearms across the clansman’s muscular thighs to hold himself up. He wiped away the tears and held a wad of toilet paper for the young man to blow his nose.

“You were disobedient.”

“Yes, Mazhten. I apologize, Mazhten,” in a small voice, head hung down.

“Do you still wish to serve?”

“Yes, please, Mazhten.”

“Then your apology is accepted.” Maogg lifted Obi-Wan’s chin, looked into his eyes and continued very softly. “I understand that this is not easy for you, but this is a dangerous place and you must learn to live by the rules here if you want to live. You must learn to obey me completely, and I will take care of you. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, holding back more tears. Looking into the blue eyes, he felt the clansman’s complete sincerity and absolute conviction. He finally submitted emotionally as well as physically, giving himself over to his new master, silently begging Qui-Gon’s forgiveness for what he had to do. “Yes, Mazhten,” he answered sadly, feeling a numbness settle over his spirit as surely as the dampening collar had subdued his connection to the Force.

Maogg looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes for a long while. Finally content with what he saw, he patted the Jedi’s head. “It will be alright eventually; you will see.” He paused and leaned back, supporting himself on his arms. “Now, you may serve me.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

Fortunately Maogg had a great deal of patience and was willing to wait for the pained padawan to get himself together and fumble his way through the fellatio, finally wrapping his hand around Obi-Wan’s hands and fisting together until the hot seed was deposited in the Jedi’s mouth and the majority of it swallowed. Satisfied that the lesson had been fully learned, he then carefully helped the young man into the bunk and slid in next to him to pass the remainder of the night.

*************** *******************

The next few days were miserable for Obi-Wan. The first morning after his beating he could barely hobble to the toilet. Maogg released him from his duties to the extent of making the bunks himself and collecting the bread and cheese brought round by the guards. He let Obi-Wan lie on his own bunk with his pants down and used one of their small towels, soaked in cold water, to help reduce the heat and swelling in the bruised buttocks and thighs. During the afternoon he forced the Jedi to get up and walk slowly around the cell, gasping and sweating, so that he was able to make it to the dining hall under his own power. Inside the dining hall Obi-Wan’s face flamed almost as hot as his abused ass as he heard the comments and laughter, knowing that everyone on the floor had heard the whole episode. He managed to perch above his seat without quite sitting down, drawing more jokes and smirks, and kept his head down between hunched shoulders while he ate. They went to bed early, before lights out, and Maogg helped him in and out of the bunk for the nightly devotions.

The second morning was painful but not nearly as bad. Maogg got up early for another chat with the morning guard and came back holding a plastic bottle of oil. Obi-Wan paid little attention except for dully wondering what the clansman could possibly have had to trade for it. Maogg rousted the Jedi out of bed and put him back to work. They again ended up on an early morning exercise yard shift. The clansman allowed a longer period of stretching to allow Obi-Wan to work out some of the stiffness, but was adamant that they run for at least an hour, albeit at a very reduced pace. Obi-Wan thought he would die with each painful step, but any slowing earned him another sharp swat on the ass and a round of jeers from the other prisoners so he gritted his teeth and finished the run. He did feel looser when they got to back to their cell and Maogg periodically made him get up, stretch and pace around so he didn’t stiffen up.

Also starting the second morning began what Maogg called ‘the preparation’. He refused to allow Obi-Wan to eat any solid food but insisted that he begin drinking large quantities of water throughout the day, allegedly for cleansing, muttering about not having all the supplies for a proper cleansing. By the end of the day Obi-Wan felt like he was sloshing inside. After the evening meal of two bowls of soup, Maogg had him strip and stretch out on his own bunk. He took some of the oil he had obtained and slowly massaged all of the tender flesh, soothing much of the pain and helping the skin soften. Obi-Wan was surprised at how effective the massage was; it was almost as good as when Qui-Gon used to tend to him and he idly wondered whether this was another of Mother Moon’s mysterious gifts. Having finished, Maogg put one hand on Obi-Wan’s back and leaned over to whisper to the drowsing Jedi.

“You must stay relaxed as I prepare you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He moved one hand to the upturned ass and poured a little oil into the crack.

“What?” Obi-Wan looked up, an eyebrow raised in query.

“It is a very bad sign if you are injured during the first taking. I will help you learn to open and relax.”

“Huh? Open what?” Sudden understanding flashed across his face as he felt a large finger touch his opening. “Oh,” Obi-Wan said in a small voice as he flushed bright red. He put his head down, closed his eyes and worked hard at making himself a distant observer of the whole proceedings.

For the next hour Maogg carefully massaged the area around the tight sphincter, gradually working his smallest finger inside, then both of his smallest fingers. Obi-Wan was finally able to relax enough to allow both fingers to move in and out unimpeded, slowly stretching the small opening. Maogg finally grunted, “Enough for the first time,” and let Obi-Wan rest for a while.

Maogg worked on the apprentice just before they went to bed, after the early morning singing and service, and again after they woke. Throughout the day he forced the Jedi to drink water, to periodically exercise and work on stretching the anal muscles. Obi-Wan still blushed and smarted inside at each invasion of his body, but from practical necessity acquiesced to the lessons, learning to release the muscles enough to fully accept three large fingers. Drinking his soup at the evening meal, Obi-Wan again found himself the center of much avid attention, as if the entire place knew what was to happen later that night and was eagerly waiting to participate vicariously. He found the atmosphere very unsettling, but it did not seem to bother Maogg in the slightest.

After the meal the clansman initiated a joint workout until they had both worked up a good sweat. He removed the strips of cloth from the apprentice’s collar and crotch, washed them out and set them aside to dry. He had Obi-Wan strip, did another anal stretching, then carefully washed every inch of the young man’s body from head to toe. He combed out the Jedi’s hair and replaited the long braid himself. Obi-Wan had a sudden attack of deja vu, picturing himself back at the Temple with Qui-Gon deftly handling the long slender tresses. He shuddered and had to fight hard to repress the sudden urge to cry, clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists until the emotion subsided.

The two men switched places. For the first time Obi-Wan got to see Maogg fully unclothed and was impressed by the smooth, hard muscles and numerous scars as he carefully washed and groomed the big body, a body worthy of a finely tuned Jedi Master. That was a thought he hastily banished before it got him into new trouble, ashamed that he had even considered it. The padawan had an inspiration and took advantage of the opportunity to get rid of what had been an ongoing minor irritant; he persuaded the skeptical clansman to let him soak his fingers and used a couple of rough stones he had picked up in the exercise yard to carefully clean and file the ragged nails until they were relatively smooth. Concentrating on such minor details helped Obi-Wan to avoid fixating on what was yet to come.

Once both men were clean, Maogg put the Jedi face down on his own bunk and slowly massaged him, head to toe. When he was finished, he had Obi-Wan turn over and started on the fingers.

Lulled into relaxed drowsiness by the long massage, Obi-Wan decided to take a chance on something that had been bothering him for a while. “Mazhten, may I ask you a question?”

“Yes,” was the absent reply.

Nodding toward the front of the cell where the camera stared at them unblinkingly and the occasional guard wandered by, he asked “Doesn’t it bother you that we are always watched? Where I come from, things like sex are done privately.”

A rare chuckle answered him. “There is little privacy within the clan. When we are on the move between hunting, we live in tents or in the open. During the winter, many families live together at our base holding to conserve heat. In any event, a first taking is never done privately if there is family to provide witness. When I took my first wife, my brother, parents, grandparents, and great great grandmother were there. Births, deaths, sex, discipline, it is all part of life. The Mother sees all, she knows all, there is no shame in seeing.”

Obi-Wan shuddered at the notion of his Grand-Master being present if Qui-Gon had actually agreed to initiate his padawan into sex; the picture of Yoda stumping around and whacking them with his gimer stick if they didn’t get the positions right was downright frightening. Part of Maogg’s comment caught his attention.

“How many wives do you have, Mazhten?”

There was a long pause. “At the moment, none. My first wife was killed on a hunt. When I offered for a special task, to spy on the southerners, I cut the joining from my second wife if I was captured. She has probably gone back to her own family by now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Life goes on,” shrugged Maogg. He continued brusquely, “We must get ready for tonight.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

The rest of the massage proceeded in silence and was not completed until after the lights went out. Maogg continued by the dim light from the corridor. He rethreaded the strip of cloth around both collars, tying it off. He then positioned the Jedi in a spread-eagle position on the bunk, hands over his head hanging on to the top support bar and legs spread. Placing the second strip of cloth at the foot of the bed, Maogg slowly caressed the Jedi’s cock, stroking it into fullness as he uttered a low chant. When it was hard and dripping, he took the strip of cloth and wrapped it very tightly in a figure eight, first around the base of the cock, then around the balls, leaving a quick release knot at the end.

Obi-Wan had closed his eyes while his cock was being aroused and grunted when the cloth suddenly tightened around its base. He shifted uncomfortably as his bound cock strained futilely in the cool air. “Mazhten – “

“Silence.” Obi-Wan subsided. “The mother will rise high and early tonight. We must be ready when she calls.”

Maogg swiftly stroked himself to hardness, then knelt beside the bunk, eyes closed. He chanted softly to himself, both hands on Obi-Wan, one hand resting on his belly and the other slowly fondling the upright cock. After what seemed like an eternity to the young Jedi but in reality was probably less than half an hour, the clansman suddenly rose and motioned to Obi-Wan to stand up. Removing the mattress, he carefully positioned it on the floor at the front of the cell, ensuring that he could see out the window from a kneeling position. By now, several guards had gathered in front of the cell and the entire corridor was unnaturally silent as all waited expectantly for the deflowering of the despised Jedi. Obi-Wan could feel his stomach fluttering, cold sweat gathering, and all the benefit from the earlier washing and massage seemed to be rapidly dissipating.

Standing in front of Obi-Wan, Maogg put a hand on each side of his face and forced him to look up. “Your duty is to serve,” he said softly.

“Yes, Mazhten,” replied Obi-Wan, licking dry lips.

“Obey me and I will take care of you.”

“Yes, Mazhten.” Obi-Wan could feel his heart racing and his gut churning as he was led to the mattress and put down on his hands and knees. His cock was hard and throbbing from the forced stimulation.

~ Force, this is really it, isn’t it? ~

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and hung his head. There was nothing more he could do except endure.

~ I’m sorry, Master. I wasn’t strong enough. Please try to understand. I’m so sorry. ~

As he felt the heat of the clansman move in behind his spread legs, Obi-Wan began to repeat the Code in his head to distract himself.

~ There is no emotion, there is peace
there is no ignorance, there is knowledge
there is no passion, there is serenity
there is no death, there is the Force
Please forgive me, Master

There is no emotion, there is peace
there is no ignorance, there is knowledge
there is no passion, there is serenity
there is no death, there is the Force
Please forgive me, Master ~

Maogg began a slow chant as he used a liberal dose of oil to begin slowly stretching the Jedi’s still tight anus. Two fingers, then a long series of three finger stretches while the other hand continued to lightly caress the bound cock. Finally satisfied that the young man was as ready as he was going to get, he poured more oil into his hand and began slicking his own hard cock.

Obi-Wan involuntarily bucked forward when he felt the oily head of the huge organ touch his opening, but the large hands on his hips quickly tightened and held him in place, painful where the thumbs dug in to his still tender ass. They stayed like that for several moments. The low, slow chant suddenly changed, however, becoming higher, more urgent. Obi-Wan looked up briefly to see a bright, full moon high overhead as he felt the cock begin to push harder, seeking entrance to his body. He closed his eyes again, trying to will his body to stay relaxed as his mind tried to withdraw. The clansman’s chant seemed to draw him in, making it easier to lose himself in the ritual.

~ There is no emotion, there is peace
there is no ignorance, there is knowledge
there is no passion, there is - ~

“AAHAH.”

Maogg chanted and pushed forward, pausing when the head of his cock popped through the outer ring and Obi-Wan gasped a sharp cry of pain. He held Obi-Wan’s hips still as he slowly began to push forward again, never allowing the chant to falter. The gradual penetration continued until Maogg’s cock was fully contained in the hot slick sheath. Once more Maogg paused, a satisfied tone now underlying the chant. Just as the apprentice seemed to become accustomed to the intruder in his body, Maogg began moving again. He continued with long slow strokes, outward until only the head was still inside the tight opening, then in again until his heavy balls slapped the tender flesh. On the sixth stroke he reached around and released the cloth strip around Obi-Wan’s cock and balls.

~ There is no emotion, there is peace
there is no passion, there is serenity. . . . ~

“Oh Force, it hurts. . . ,“ he whimpered softly.

Blocking out the lewd calls of encouragement from the guards and other prisoners, Obi-Wan tried to stay relaxed to reduce the burning sensation in his ass. The huge cock filled Obi-Wan’s guts, feeling like it was splitting him in two. On the down stroke when he was completely filled, the coarse pubic hair and hot flesh were painful reminders of the beating he had endured earlier. Obi-Wan knew the clansman was trying to be relatively gentle but it still hurt, and his efforts to distance himself from the unwanted invasion of his body were not very successful. The sudden rush of additional blood to his engorged cock when the cloth ring was released was a welcome distraction. He felt the chant become even more urgent as the clansman began to shorten his strokes and make them more forceful and frequent. When Maogg shifted his position to scrape across Obi-Wan’s prostrate, he was able to release himself more fully into the ritual, especially when the clansman started to fist the Jedi’s cock.

~ No emotion. . . peace. . .no passion. . .Master. . . . ~ Conscious thought was rapidly giving way to hot driving reaction.

Both men began to sweat as the chant’s intensity continued to increase. Obi-Wan slipped down to rest his head on his forearms as the big man began pounding rapidly into him. He began thrusting forward into the tight hand on his cock and backward onto the invading column. Time seemed to be suspended and there was only the pounding and heat, blood roaring in his ears, musk heavy in his nostrils, pinpoints of light beginning to flicker on the back of his closed eyelids. There was a moaning and sobbing that Obi-Wan vaguely recognized as coming from his own throat.

With a final cycle of rapid thrusts and a shout of triumph, Maogg drove both men to ejaculation. Obi-Wan felt the hot liquid pumping into his guts at the same time as a stream of his own thick semen spurted out over the fist that still enclosed his turgid shaft. Two large hands held his hips; he could feel the hot cock in his ass slowly softening as he heard Maogg change to a different chant. He felt a surge of disgust at his own participation and regret for his lost virginity in this shameful way. His last coherent thought was a final cry of despair, ~ Master, I’m so sorry. ~

The white light streamed into the cold cell, still falling directly on the two men inside. Maogg looked up to the Mother, his spirit filled with the warmth and approval he felt from her. He held Obi-Wan’s hips up, his slowly softening cock still fully embedded, as he finished the ritual with the short chant of thanks for the Mother’s blessing. Finally complete, he pulled out, a sticky string of white semen oozing from the Jedi’s body as he let him collapse forward onto the mattress. Ignoring the sarcastic cheers and catcalls from the slowly dispersing audience, he cleaned himself up, pleased to see that there was no blood on his cock. He pulled the semiconscious Obi-Wan to his feet, half carrying him as he steered him over to the sink and cleaned him up, then put him in bed after assuring himself there were no serious injuries. The clansman finished by throwing the mattress back onto the empty bunk, then slid naked beneath the blankets, spooning behind the silent Jedi with a happy grunt of pleasure at the skin to skin contact. It had been a good taking, a good offering, and the Mother was very pleased. Caressing the young man’s face, he frowned briefly as he wiped away hot tears, then dismissed the pity. The Jedi was young and his will to survive was strong; he would get over it. Maogg smiled as he draped a possessive arm over the naked body in front of him and drifted off in satisfied sleep.

******************* ******************

Obi-Wan woke slowly, enjoying the warmth of the bed in contrast to the cold air he felt on his face. He started to burrow a little deeper in the pleasant nest until he became pointedly aware of the pain within pain in his nether regions when he moved. The sudden intrusion of a hard hot cock into the crack of his ass brought the memories of previous events flooding back in nauseating detail. He yelped and tried to scramble away but found himself pinned in place between a hard body and the wall, a big hand across his mouth and an arm wrapped tightly around his belly. Naked skin was hot against his back. A warm mouth next to his ear breathed a single word almost inaudibly.

“Ben.”

The Jedi immediately froze. This was the first time the clansman had spoken his name since they had been thrown together. He felt his heart racing and tried to calm himself. He turned his head slightly as he felt the hand across his mouth loosen.

“Yes, Mazhten,” whispered Obi-Wan.

“You are sore?”

“Yes, Mazhten, very sore.”

There was a muffled grunt. Obi-Wan felt the hard heat at his ass move lower as the hand across his belly shifted lower to caress his cock.

“Mazhten –“ The hand closed over his mouth again.

“Silence. Open your legs a little more.”

Fearful of the consequences of refusal but dreading the result of complying, Obi-Wan obeyed. A few moments later, however, he was puzzled to feel the hot cock slide between his legs and up against his balls instead of the painful intrusion he had expected.

“It looks the same to the camera.” Obi-Wan could almost hear the wolfish grin of a minor victory over authority in the heavy whisper as he realized what the clansman was doing and smiled in relief as the hand was again removed from his mouth.

“Thank you, Mazhten,” whispered the Jedi as he felt Maogg begin to slowly hump against his sore ass. His own cock was rapidly firming in the clansman’s hand.

“This is still a very dangerous place, young Jedi, and I fear we will be here many tendays before I can try to get us out. There is something strange happening here, and we must be very careful until I understand and know what to do about it.”

“I don’t understand, Mazhten.”

“Moan a little, they will expect you to be in pain so soon after being taken.” Obi-Wan complied, an easy task as his own cock was now erect and throbbing whether he wanted it to or not. Maogg continued softly, “Many of my people have been put in southern prisons, many have died. They seem to take pleasure in putting us in dark places where we cannot see the Father or Mother, in tormenting us when we fight back to escape or putting us in with other prisoners to see us fight. I had expected to be sent to such a place.” Obi-Wan felt the rhythm of the hard cock between his legs quicken. “Instead, I am here. There is a window, I have my own clothes, I have you. Southerners may be superstitious animals, but that does not mean they are stupid. They want something from us and I must learn what it is.”

Obi-Wan moaned a little louder and began moving his hips in counterpoint to the thrusts from behind. The sweat between his balls and the juncture of his legs made a slick tunnel for the clansman’s pumping cock as his large hand tightened on the Jedi’s own organ.

Maogg was breathing heavily by now. “It is more important than ever that you serve and obey. They expect to see a Jedi bitch and that is what they will get. As long as we are in here, you can never be Ben, only boy. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. He understood the reasoning, but knew it was going to be hard and miserable. Finally he sighed and whispered resignedly, “Yes, Mazhten.”

The only further sounds from the end cell were the moans and grunts of the Jedi bitch and his owner.

***************** ********************

Life gradually settled into a pattern over the next tenday. Maogg had refastened the cloth strip around Obi-Wan’s cock, indicating it would have to do since he didn’t have the proper markers. He had also decided that his charge should be barechested, allowing him to wear his tunic only when they were outside the cell. Obi-Wan’s protest that it was cold in the cell and getting colder every day earned him a dozen swats on the ass and an extra hour of calisthenics. Each morning the Jedi was responsible for cleaning the cell and any other required work. Maogg set aside an hour in the morning to begin teaching the young man the language of the clans, starting with simple everyday words and the shorter chants. An hour in the evening was devoted to history and culture of the clans, learning about their seasonal migrations, family relationships, warrior traditions, the fighting ways, and the hunting ways. Obi-Wan found that Maogg was exceptionally vigilant and swiftly quashed any signs of rebellion, so he fell in with the schedule and obedience soon became a habit.

The rest of the day was usually divided between periods of exercise and periods of rest and contemplation. The clansman pushed hard every day during exercise periods, putting in as much if not more work as he demanded from the younger man. Obi-Wan had not been able to determine just what Maogg did during the rest periods; he did not seem to be doing conventional meditation nor did he seem to be completely asleep. Finally deciding it wasn’t worth worrying about, he devoted his efforts to his own meditations and trying not to think about Qui-Gon and home.

There were more elements to their routine. Maogg was cultivating quite a relationship with the early morning guard who kept him supplied with oil, but he would not discuss what he provided in return. Between the two cellmates, they had determined which of their fellow prisoners were the most disliked and Maogg concentrated most of his food snatching efforts on those men, which seemed to please both the guards and the rest of the prisoners. There were few challenges any more in the exercise yard after Maogg and Obi-Wan put down another group of six, although Obi-Wan’s support of his owner earned him a lot of disgusted sneers. At night or after the moon singing, sometimes both, Obi-Wan was required to provide sexual services. Maogg instructed him in the finer points of how he liked to have fellatio performed, and became less tolerant of mistakes. The clansman was particularly fond of having the sensitive area just behind the crown of his cock licked but any hint of teeth earned a swift backhand. The first time the apprentice managed to get the entire cock down his throat without gagging he earned a beaming smile of approval and an enthusiastic jacking off from Maogg and was allowed to sleep in an extra hour. Obi-Wan soon noticed that he was invariably fucked from behind, whether it be on his hands and knees, bent over the bunk or in bed; he was certain that it was done to reinforce his sense of submission, but decided it was just as well so he didn’t have to actually watch while he was being mounted. Whether or not Obi-Wan was required or allowed to achieve release seemed to depend partly on how well he had done that day and partly on Maogg’s mood.

Occasionally there would be a break in the routine. Every four or five days mail was brought in for prisoners; although neither man in the end cell expected any, it did make for some changes in the conversations that floated up and down the hall. About once each eight to ten days a section of cells was greentagged; all clothes, towels, sheets, blankets and mattresses were exchanged for clean ones smelling of soap and disinfectant. A prisoner trustee work detail dropped off cleaning supplies while other trustees from the low security section handled the exchange. The inmates, in this case Obi-Wan, were expected to wash down every surface in the cell they could reach with the hot soapy disinfectant solution. After the cell was clean, the naked inmates were chained together and taken down the hall to the shower room next to the dining facility. In there their hair was cut or trimmed, they were thoroughly soaped down and then hosed off. There was almost a fight when one of the trustees wanted to take Maogg’s native clothes but a guard intervened; he had to take them off for the shower but was allowed to keep them in the cell.

Obi-Wan became grateful for the routine. Resigned to his role, the routine allowed him to slip into a numb emotional retreat and bury much of the constant humiliation and anxiety out of sight. He still had trouble disengaging himself when he was being fucked, but within the bounds of their relationship he found that Maogg, although a ruthless disciplinarian, could be almost affectionate when they were mostly hidden from the camera and guards under their blankets in the darkness. He seldom kissed, but his hands could be surprisingly gentle and Obi-Wan found he actually enjoyed the occasional belly rubs with which Maogg rewarded him. At first this troubled the young man, but he soon realized that the clansman was the only person in the entire prison who treated him with any sort of kindness at all. Amidst the constant stream of abuse from guards and prisoners, Obi-Wan found himself almost pathetically grateful for the bits of affection and praise he was able to win from his owner, even though he loathed himself for yielding to the need to seek them.

Under the cover of darkness Obi-Wan could also occasionally entice the clansman into talking; he was fascinated by the contrast between the intelligent and sometimes acerbic wit the man displayed in private and the stoic, semi-intelligent façade he maintained during the day. Maogg was also living up to his promise to take care of the Jedi. The twice daily inspections revealed that Obi-Wan was regaining all of the weight he had lost; he was feeling physically better and was making good progress in regaining his former muscle tone and endurance. Although becoming more emotionally withdrawn, his physical condition and his knowledge of Maogg’s people was improving. Obi-Wan could now carry on a simple conversation in the native tongue and was beginning to gain an appreciation for the complexity of relationships in and among the clans. Also, despite the frequency of sexual activity, the clansman was usually very careful to ensure that he did not actually damage his property, at least not significantly.

The eleventh day after his taking, which was how Obi-Wan was beginning to measure time, saw a major break in the monotony and the answer to Maogg’s puzzle. After the morning feeding, two guards came to their cell.

“Alright, assholes. On yur feet at the front of the cell.”

Both men moved to the front of the cell, stopping about a foot from the bars.

The senior guard held up his control rod. “Listen real careful. The warden is gonna be here in a couple of minutes with the Board of Governors. We’re gonna be watching ya real close and the rod is cranked up to level 6 out of 10. Don’t do anything stupid and make sure ya address the warden as ‘sir’. Got it?”

Both men nodded and were very careful to stand still as a group of well dressed men and women came trooping down the corridor almost like a tour group. A tall, distinguished looking man led the group, occasionally pointing out something in a cell as they went. When they arrived at the end cell, the group gathered around the door.

“This, ladies and gentleman, is my most successful experiment to date. As you know, I run a clean, well disciplined prison and we haven’t had an uprising or a successful escape in over twelve years. Unfortunately, there are a few problem types of prisoners that no one has had much success with, mostly clansman from up north, and too many have died without serving out their sentence. I’ve been studying these people, learning their customs and ways.” He turned around and glanced admiringly at Maogg. “They are truly magnificent warriors and hunters, and have a rather high level of cunning despite their superstitions and their primitive way of life. I had a unique opportunity come up recently to attack two problems at once. A Jedi scumbag arrived here and then a fresh highlander. I decided to use their own natures to bring them into a natural symbiosis so both would be stable prisoners and serve out their sentences. I have to say that the results so far have surpassed even my fondest hopes, and they have been remarkably trouble free. I present our two prisoners, Ben, a Jedi sentenced for baby stealing, and Maogg, a clansman put here for spying and killing a soldier.” He paused as the group looked over the two cellmates.

The man turned around to address the prisoners, a pleasant smile on his face. “Maogg, I am Warden Herev. I know damn well that you’re a lot brighter than you let on to the guards, so I expect you’ve been wondering why you’ve been treated so differently from most of the highlanders we get in here.” He paused expectantly.

Maogg looked at him warily before quietly answering, “Yes, sir.”

“What do you think of your cellmate, Maogg?”

The clansman put a possessive hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Mine.”

The warden turned his head, raising an “I told you so” eyebrow at the group, before replying. “Would you like to keep him for a long time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I put you in with the Jedi scum because, despite his sick perversions and moral cowardice, he was a little too much for any one prisoner to tame, and I didn’t want to throw him in with a group because they’d just end up killing him too quickly. No, I want the piece of shit to live a long time but not enjoy it. Your people are strong and know how to tame an asshole like that, put him in his place and keep him there without killing him, and so far you have done just that.” The man stepped up very close to the bars. “Now then, Maogg, you understand that you were sentenced to many years in here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know how important it is to your people to pay proper respects to the Father and Mother, to stay strong, to be able to feel the wind. I’m willing to let you stay in this cell, take care of your little Jedi, make your prayers, if you just do a couple of things for me.”

“What do you want, sir?”

“The first is that you stay out of trouble, the other is that you keep that perverted piece of shit in line, keep him in his place and well fucked so he knows he is well and truly owned, and keep him alive. Can you do that?”

It required only a few moments of consideration before the clansman responded, “Yes, sir. I will do that.”

“Good.” He turned to the guards. “Open the door.” Despite skeptical miens, the guards hastened to obey.

The warden walked into the cell, then casually circled the two prisoners as if he were inspecting livestock at the market. He stopped in front of Obi-Wan, then began speaking in a pleasant tone which belied the gleam of hatred in his eyes.

“You Jedi are about the most disgusting assholes I know of. You prance around the galaxy acting all high and mighty and mysterious, but really you’re no better than the rest of the scum in this place. We know all about you perverts, fornicating with children and animals, stealing babies for your secret rituals, using that Force stuff to kill good people. But you know, take away your fancy little toys and your precious Force, and you’re just another variety of disgusting criminal. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on one of you animals for a long time.”

Pursing his lips, the warden tried to spit on Obi-Wan, but the Jedi raised his arm defensively and started to turn away. Before either the guard or Obi-Wan could react, Maogg swiftly punched the Jedi, sending him crashing into the cell wall with the force of the blow. He then deliberately walked over to the stunned young man, ripped off his pants, then pushed him onto his knees in front of the warden. “Apologize,” he commanded gruffly.

Tasting blood, Obi-Wan knew his only recourse was exact obedience. Keeping his eyes down, he addressed the warden, “I’m sorry, sir. I should not have moved.”

“Tell the warden what you are, boy.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Obi-Wan obeyed again. “I am the Jedi bitch of Maogg of the White Panther clan, sir.” He heard the excited whispers from the group and the humiliating epithets they were using to describe him, but could do nothing except endure it.

The warden beamed as Maogg stood silently beside the Jedi. “Very good, Maogg of the White Panther clan,” he said. “I think we understand each other very well, very well indeed.”

“Yes, sir.”

The warden turned back to the kneeling Obi-Wan with a cruel smile. “Actually, Jedi, I have something that will probably interest you.” He turned to an assistant, then held a flat picture in front of Obi-Wan. “This image was taken while you were being held at the courthouse for your trial. Recognize anyone?”

Obi-Wan looked at the large colored picture. In a brilliantly floodlit courtyard outside the courthouse, a lone man was trying to fight off a squad of police. He was tall, with long hair, a neatly trimmed beard and was wielding a brilliant green lightsaber. It was also evident that he was bleeding heavily from his left shoulder; the dark robe was half torn off and the cream tunic had turned bright red across half its surface. Feeling his heart plummeting, Obi-Wan slowly answered, “Yes, sir. He. . .he is a Jedi Master from Coruscant.”

“*Was* a Jedi Master from Coruscant, I believe is the proper tense. Fell right into our trap, he did,” boasted the warden proudly. “We knew someone would probably try to come after you, and we installed every Force detector we could get our hands on around the courthouse. Worth every penny, I assure you, to catch the bastard. He killed three of the guards but we got him, alright. Idiot tried to run to the river and we blasted him with a couple dozen grenades. I’ll bet you recognize these also, don’t you?”

The assistant stepped forward and opened a large flat box. Inside were the remnants of a bloodstained robe and tunic. Nestled on top were two badly scorched and battered lightsabers.

Until now, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel any worse than he already did. Seeing the lightsabers, though, tore his heart out. His mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out. He felt frozen inside as he stared mindlessly at the two broken handles for what felt like an agonizing eternity. A cuff from Maogg jolted him back to the present, and he realized he was expected to answer.

“Uh, yes, sir. That one. . .it was my lightsaber, sir,” he mumbled. “The other one . . .” Obi-Wan had to stop and take a ragged breath before continuing. “I. . . it must have belonged to the other Jedi, sir.”

“Well, they belong to me, now, and I have them prominently displayed in my office. I’ll tell you something else, boy. We’ve had Force monitors in place here since you arrived, my little Jedi, and there has not been one little flicker of the needles. Not the teeniest, tiniest, little indication at all. All your so-called friends have left you here to rot, you worthless piece of shit. So you can give up any notions you ever had of being rescued.” Everyone seemed to think this was a fine joke and there was a great deal of laughter at Obi-Wan’s expense as he knelt there, shivering, staring helplessly at the grisly trophies in their bloody nest.

As the laughter died down, the warden turned to the clansman. “Maogg, we’ve been looking at the tapes from the monitors and it’s been quite impressive how you handled your bitch. I promised the Board members that you would give us a live demonstration of how you keep him in line.”

“A demonstration?” A shadow of disgust flashed over his face, a cloud in the blue eyes.

A voice called out from the group, “You know, keeping him in his proper place.” Another voice chimed in, “Yeah, fuck him already.” There was a brief titter of embarrassed laughter, mostly from the women.

“Do a good job, Maogg, and I’ll get you some proper markers for your bitch,” the warden said.

“Yes, sir. Silver ones, please, sir,” rumbled Maogg, well aware that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter of what was to happen next.

The warden nodded and stepped back by the cell door. The group outside crowded in closer to the bars as Maogg turned to the silent, kneeling Jedi. There was an eager gleam of anticipation in their eyes.

“Boy, prepare me.”

Obi-Wan turned dully and watched as Maogg unlaced his pants. He wasn’t quite numb enough to overcome his revulsion to being put on display like an animal, but he was vaguely aware that he should be appreciative of the fact that Maogg evidently intended to provide an opportunity for Obi-Wan to get some saliva on the big cock instead of just dry fucking him. He began trying to work up some spit in his cottony mouth.

Maogg stroked his cock, bringing it rapidly erect, as the Jedi shuffled forward resignedly on his knees. Obi-Wan recognized the clansman’s short chant as a plea to the Mother for forgiveness before he grabbed the padawan’s braid and jerked him forward, shoving his cock in the young man’s mouth. For several minutes the Jedi dutifully sucked, licked and fondled, finally taking the hard organ deep into his mouth and throat as he had been taught, trying to get as much moisture on the cock as possible. Maogg face fucked him for a while before jerking the braid up again. He then gave the command, “Down,” pointing to the center of the cell.

Obi-Wan crawled to the designated spot and crouched on his knees and forearms, ass high in the air, and waited. He shut out the buzz of excited conversation, shut out his own emotions, let his body simply relax so it could absorb the abuse as best it could. He flinched as he felt the clansman kneel behind him and slide his organ down the crack of his ass. Large hands gripped his hips as he tried to loosen his muscles and open up. His efforts mattered little, however, as the huge cock positioned at his opening suddenly thrust forward, half its length buried in one tremendous shove that ripped a scream from his throat. The Jedi had barely recovered from the first impact when another brutal push caused him to scream again, a cry of agony that echoed up and down the long corridor and out the window, drawing even the attention of the hardened guards in the watch towers. Tears flowed freely as the hard cock withdrew, then began punching in and out in long strokes, pulling out almost all the way and then plunging back in. Obi-Wan felt like his guts were being ripped out through his ass, but could only cry out helplessly as he was mercilessly impaled on the driving cock. The pounding seemed to go on forever, though in reality the clansman was working hard and fast toward a swift conclusion. There was no diversion today; Maogg didn’t touch Obi-Wan’s cock and any contact with his prostate was purely accidental. With a final grunt, the clansman pulled out and sprayed a stream of hot semen over the pale ass and lower back, then pushed himself up, going to the sink to wash his blood streaked cock as the visitors took their last shot at the collapsed Jedi. Many ventured inside the cell far enough to spit on Obi-Wan as they unleashed their venomous tongues on the ‘perverted animal’. Finally they had had enough, the door clanged shut, and the congratulatory speeches spilled down the corridor as the tawdry gaggle clattered toward the exit.

Maogg waited, eyes hard, until the place was silent except for the muted sibilance of inmate conversations. He drew a very deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing his anger, before going to the silent, fallen Jedi. Very carefully he picked him up and deposited him on the bunk, then checked him for injuries, frowning at what he found. The clansman gently cleaned the battered body, then let Obi-Wan sleep, putting a blanket over him as he curled up into a fetal position. He sat beside the young man for several hours, praying to the Father for strength for his little Jedi to survive this place and to the Mother to seek her help with the gift of healing. Maogg stroked the cloth-covered arm as he thoughtfully tried to understand what impact the death of Obi-Wan’s obviously beloved master was going to have. Behind the stoic facade he maintained for the guards, he was worried more than he cared to admit.

The afternoon sun was peering in when two guards came to the cell door.

“Alright, asshole, listen good. The doctor’s comin’ to look at your bitch in a couple of minutes. Warden sent him down special. This is the real doctor, not the trustee, so mind yer manners or you’ll wake up on the floor. Ya got that?”

“Yes,” grunted Maogg.

“Well then, wake up the little pervert and make sure he understands it too.”

Maogg did not answer. He gently shook Obi-Wan’s shoulder until the eyes opened, though there was little light of comprehension in them.

“Wake up, boy. The doctor is coming to see you.”

There was no verbal response, but at least the eyes stayed open.

“Be good for the doctor, understand?” Maogg almost felt like he was talking to the wall, and repeated his command, at last getting a faint nod from the Jedi.

A short, balding man stood at the cell door, bag in hand, light blue working overtunic fraying at the sleeves. He looked at the occupants of the cell.

“Are you sure this is safe? I don’t normally make house calls, you know.”

“Yes, sir. These two will be alright. The big one’s the warden’s special pet project, and he ain’t gonna risk losing that.”

“Well, if you say so.” The doctor looked doubtfully at Maogg, then shrugged. “Alright, let’s get this over with. Open the door.”

The man stepped inside as the door and stepped briskly to the bunk. “You’re the clansman Maogg?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Doctor Trawvon, the prison medical officer.” He drew a small leather bag from his pocket and tossed it at Maogg. “The warden says you need markers for your boy. Pick out what you want while I take care of him.”

“Yes, sir.” Maogg set the bag aside, then turned to remove the blanket. “He’s only partly awake, sir. The warden wanted a good show for his guests.”

“Hmph,” grunted the doctor. “I’ll just bet he did.” He pulled on a pair of medical gloves, then, with Maogg’s help, uncurled the semi-conscious body. After a quick but surprisingly gentle examination, he rummaged in his bag.

“This,” he said, holding up an injector, “is a wide spectrum antibiotic. It will take care of any general infections.” He pressed the device against Obi-Wan’s arm.

“Now, I need to clean out his rectum and anal area. There’s some tearing that needs to be treated.” He pulled out a bag of clear solution with a small plastic nozzle attached to the bottom, which he inserted into Obi-Wan’s anus after applying a local anaesthetic. He squeezed the bag until most of the liquid had been inserted, leaving the nozzle in place as a plug. There was an uncomfortable ten minutes of silence while the medicine did its work. Obi-Wan hardly stirred during the procedure, and in the end Maogg had to lift him and quickly deposit him on the toilet, holding him upright as the liquid was expelled. He then put the Jedi back down on the bed face down.

“Can I trust you with his medicine?” asked the doctor as he pulled a handful of suppositories from his bag.

“Yes, sir. I understand what those are for.”

“Good.” He inserted the slender lozenge into the Jedi’s anus. “Insert another one before you go to bed, then one more in the morning, at midday and tomorrow night. That should take care of any lingering infections.” He paused and looked at the highlander with distaste. “That is, if you can leave him alone for a few days without tearing him apart again.”

“Yes, sir. I won’t hurt him.”

“Right. Well then, let’s get the rest of this done. Turn him over.” He waited until Obi-Wan was turned face up. “You decided what you want put on him?”

“Yes, sir. Only these, sir.” Maogg held out three silver rings, one large and two small, and held back a thick flat ring with an adjustable binder.

“Going in for the simple style, eh. No tattoos?”

“No, sir. He has to earn those later.”

“Fine.” The doctor turned to Obi-Wan, who was finally taking a vague interest in the proceedings. “You see these, boy?” he said, holding up the rings.

Obi-Wan focused on the twinkling silver for a moment, a small frown momentarily creasing his forehead. “Yessir,” he whispered.

“I’m going to put these on you, and it’s going to be sore for a few days, so don’t play with them. Got it?”

“Yessir.”

“You, hold him down.” Maogg sat at the head of the bed, pulling the Jedi up into his embrace, then wrapped his legs around the naked belly. The doctor applied antiseptic to both nipples, tweaking them into hard nubs. With speed born of long practice, he plunged a sterilized needle through each nipple and swiftly placed the small silver rings, using a heating rod to permanently close the rings. Obi-Wan yelped and tried to jerk away, but Maogg held him close. Moving quickly, the doctor used a bigger needle to open a path through the end of the Jedi’s cock, inserted the large silver ring and sealed it closed. He sprayed both nipples and the cock with more antiseptic and a bit of anesthetic. “There, that should do it.”

The doctor took off the gloves with a snap and threw them in the bag before closing it. “Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“He’ll be tired and sore for a while. Let him sleep the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sir.”

The doctor stepped out of the cell and headed down the corridor with the guards.

Maogg untangled himself from the naked Jedi and laid him back down. Obi-Wan curled up again, whimpering a little, a protective hand over his genitals.

“It hurts, Mazhten,” moaned Obi-Wan.

“I know. You will be sore for a while, but don’t touch.” He covered Obi-Wan with the blanket. “Go back to sleep.”

For a long while the clansman sat beside the apprentice, stroking his covered back.

~ The boy is soft, and has strange ideas, ~ Maogg sighed as he watched the slow breathing of his young charge. ~ He is smart, though, and looks nice. With the proper training, he will be a good addition to the clan. I shall pray again to the Mother to help him. ~

Maogg carefully ran a finger down Obi-Wan’s cheek, then settled down next to him to rest.

*********************** **************

The wall in front of Obi-Wan slowly drifted into focus as the harsh clang of the lights out bell sounded in the corridor. He blinked his eyes several times as he tried to figure out why the paint in his room had turned from blue to white. Yawning, he started to stretch, but the sudden pain when he moved brought the day’s memories crashing back. With a wordless scream, he tried to retreat, burying his face in the pillow, but the image of two burnt and broken lightsabers was painted inside his eyelids. ~ Qui-Gon ~ was the single thought running mercilessly through his head.

The motion brought Maogg to his feet. He got the bread and cheese he had saved from midday and drew a cup of water. Kneeling beside the bunk, he gently touched the Jedi’s shoulder.

“Wake up. You need to eat.”

“ ‘m not hungry,” was the muffled reply.

“You need to eat to keep up your strength.”

Obi-Wan did not reply, instead trying to bury his face even deeper.

Maogg sighed and set the food aside. He waited until the cell lights were out, the corridor dimmed and the guards had finished their initial round before taking his boots and clothes off and carefully climbing into bed. He felt the young Jedi cringe away from the hand on his hip and heard the muffled moan of pain as he moved.

“Listen to me,” whispered the clansman. “I have to put your medicine in. I am going to use the oil to make it easier for your medicine. I will try not to hurt you. Do you understand?”

There was no reply, but Maogg felt the trembling when he poured a little oil on his finger and carefully massaged it into the area around Obi-Wan’s anus. Even more carefully he dipped the oily digit just barely into the opening.

Obi-Wan jerked away as he felt the invading flesh. “Please, Mazhten, please don’t,” he cried out.

“I’m only going to put your medicine in. You have Maogg’s word,” replied the clansman, continuing the oily massage, but he could feel that the trembling had abated only slightly. He put one hand on the Jedi’s hip as he slowly inserted the suppository, pushing it in as far as he could without inflicting too much pain.

“Finished,” he whispered, slowly stroking the soft flank. “You may stay in bed tonight when I sing. I will pray for the Mother to help heal you.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked bitterly, “so you can do it again sooner?”

“No.” The large hand stilled. “I did not enjoy hurting you, that is not our way. Now you must get strong again.”

“I don’t want to be strong. I hate this place, I hate the bastards that killed my master, and I hate you.” Obi-Wan clutched the pillow to his chest, fists white with pain and anger. “I don’t understand why you keep pretending we’re going to get out of here.” His voice was rising almost hysterically. “Keep your damned gods and your stupid games. We’re going to die in this miserable fucking hole so just leave me alone.” A broken sob. “Please. . .just. . .leave me alone,” he whispered dully.

Maogg gathered the limp body into his arms and held him close. He could feel the pain radiating in waves from the wounded soul and simply held him silently, praying to the Mother to help them both, sending healing thoughts to try to help body and mind. Before the young man could sink too much further into an apathetic stupor, though, he knew he had to speak.

Leaning very close, mouth next to the delicate ear, he whispered, “You are a Jedi.”

There was no reaction, only the susurration of ragged breathing.

“Is this the way of the Jedi, to give up, to let evil win?”

“There’s nothing left to fight for. There is no Force, I’ve lost my master, and this is not living.”

Maogg carefully considered his next words. He was guardian of secrets he had sworn to protect, but he could not let this Jedi give up. “You are not alone. There are people who care for you, who believe the Jedi are honorable. They will help us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“What if I told you that I know your real name?”

The Jedi went completely still. “Even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“If I tell you your name, you must promise to get better, to get strong.”

“It doesn’t matter,” repeated the Jedi despairingly, trying to turn his head away. “We’ll never get out of here.”

“We *will* get out here, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And you know that Master Jinn would not want you to give up like this.”

Obi-Wan twisted around, ignoring the sharp pain in his lower body, and grabbed Maogg by the metal control collar. “How do you know my name,” he whispered fiercely, “and what do you know about Qui-Gon Jinn?”

“I met Master Jinn when he was looking for orphans that were strong with the Mother’s gifts. Our clan gave him one such as he was seeking. He seemed a very honorable warrior, and around the fire at night he spoke fondly of a young warrior named Kenobi.”

“When?” pleaded Obi-Wan desperately. “When did you see him last?”

“He left our camp with another Jedi who came seeking him. I think it was right after you were captured.” He looked down sadly into the hopeful eyes before continuing softly. “I left shortly after that myself for my mission. I am sorry, I did not see him again.”

Obi-Wan released his stranglehold on the clansman’s collar and fell back onto the bed, the flicker of light dying stillborn in his eyes.

Maogg gathered the young man in his arms again. “He was very proud of you. He said that you would be a great Jedi knight some day, that you would help many people.”

“But he’s dead now.”

“If he is, then does his memory, his training, mean so little to you that you would give up, lay down and die?”

“No. . . I loved him. . . .” Obi-Wan swallowed past the lump in his throat. He whispered, “It’s just so hard.”

“All life is hard, but with the Father and Mother’s help, we survive, we live. Continue to serve me, and I will get us both out of here, or we shall die honorably trying.”

“You seem so damned certain, but I don’t know how long I can take it here.”

“There is a plan and we are not alone, but we must wait until the big storms come. Winter comes swift and hard here, but it could be many tens before the right storm comes. I can not tell you more, and have told you more than was allowed. You must trust me, and be strong.”

For several minutes Obi-Wan was still in the clansman’s arms. He finally spoke, resignation in his voice. “Alright, for Qui-Gon’s sake, I will serve you.”

“When the proper time comes, all will be well. You will see,” said Maogg, embracing Obi-Wan as tightly as he dared without hurting him. “You have the word of Maogg of the White Panther clan.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

******************** ************************

The dawn light revealed a greatly improved Jedi and a very tired clansman. Obi-Wan had had his suspicions for a while about what some of the ‘Mother’s gifts’ really were, and this episode confirmed his belief that Maogg had at least some version of a healing force, although he adamantly refused to discuss it. Obi-Wan was able to get up and walk around in the cold cell that day. Maogg also felt his ward was sufficiently recovered to receive the last ring. The flat ring was placed around the base of Obi-Wan’s cock and snugged up sufficiently that it would prevent ejaculation except when Maogg released it.

That morning started another very long round of monotonous days. Maogg pushed harder than ever in their exercise sessions, and, despite the steadily dropping temperatures, began refusing to allow Obi-Wan to wear his tunic even when they went out to the exercise yard, insisting that the Jedi must learn to tolerate the cold. Of course, Obi-Wan’s new adornments did not go unremarked by either guards or fellow inmates, and after the first time they were taken to the showers on a greentag day it seemed everyone got the word about his southern jewelry and did not hesitate to add more lewd comments. After the initial soreness was gone, though, Obi-Wan was able to ignore the presence of the rings except when Maogg played with them.

Occasionally the sameness of the days would be broken by the departure or arrival of a prisoner. One such incident reinforced both Obi-Wan’s status and his understanding of his owner’s ruthless drive for survival. A handsome, scared-looking young man was brought in one day and put into a four man cell. Within an hour the sounds of fists thudding into flesh were followed by several screams as the prisoner was put into his place by his new owners. The next day was an exercise day, and the four were included in the same group as Maogg and Obi-Wan. Near the end of the period there were still several minutes left after their workout, so Obi-Wan ventured over to the bench where the new prisoner lay huddled on the ground near his cellmates. The new prisoner reminded him of a young apprentice he had known at the Temple, and he felt sorry for him. Keeping a wary eye on the others, the apprentice knelt down and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Obi-Wan quietly asked.

“Thanks, but I don’t think so,” the new prisoner started to answer as he turned over. When he saw who was beside him, though, his eyes hardened and he thrust the apprentice’s hand away. “You’re that fucking Jedi bitch.” He eyed the silver nipple rings gleaming in the pale sunlight. “I heard about you.” He spat in Obi-Wan’s face. “Get the fuck away from me, you piece of shit.”

Before Obi-Wan could reply he found himself face down, his mouth full of grit, blood running from his nose. Maogg hauled him to his knees by his collars and backhanded him again.

On his hands and knees, Obi-Wan shook his head. Behind him he heard laughter from other prisoners. He looked up at the furious clansman standing over him. “I just wanted to help, Mazhten,” he whispered.

Maogg grabbed the apprentice by his collars again, dragged him to his feet and pulled him close. “The other prisoners are no business of yours. All of your effort belongs to me. The rest of them are only good for what I can get from them. They can all die here for all I care.”

Obi-Wan’s protest was cut off by another blow. When they returned to their cell, Maogg assigned him two extra hours of exercises. His lesson learned, Obi-Wan tried to quash any further charitable impulses.

The almost constant cold, humiliation and tedium did little to improve the Jedi’s temper, but Maogg was also beginning to show signs of wear from the long confinement which was so foreign to his nature. The clansman spent more and more time staring out the window and developed a tic in his right cheek. Except for the continuing tutorials, the two men spoke less and less, even under cover of darkness. Obi-Wan found he could no longer bear to look at the blue eyes that reminded him so painfully of his lost master. Maogg’s flourishing friendship with the morning guard, however, did eventually win them an additional blanket in return for a special exhibition of milking the Jedi bitch with Obi-Wan tied spread-eagle on the front bars. By this time the apprentice was past caring about any new humiliations and the blanket was a welcome addition in the freezing night temperatures.

For the most part, the routine changed little. Obi-Wan kept the cell meticulously clean, exercised, practiced his language lessons, and became quite expert at fellatio. Maogg fucked him so often that his ass no longer needed stretching preparation, although they continued liberal applications of oil. During this time they both came to agree on two things: their hatred of the warden and the need to stay together. Maogg despised being manipulated, but was certain his best chance of escape was to stay in the relatively lenient conditions of the end cell. Obi-Wan loathed the sessions with the warden, but had no illusions about how long he would last if he was thrown back among the other prisoners. The Jedi had come to accept his relationship with the clansman as the lesser of two evils; although he despised himself for doing so, he was so starved for any touch of humanity in the brutal environment he often found himself working just as hard to earn the occasional bit of approval or kindness from his owner as he did to avoid punishment. The sexual services he provided for Maogg were simply part of the price he paid for Maogg’s protection; when Maogg also chose to reward him with sexual release he accepted the pleasure as a bitterly won respite from his gray existence.

When the warden began bringing visitors around every six or seven days, the two prisoners developed a little routine for him. As soon as the guards appeared to announce the visit, Obi-Wan would strip and would be kneeling next to Maogg, head down, when the warden arrived. The warden would give his little spiel, which seemed to emphasize his own cleverness and mastery of prisoner psychology more each time, pour some venomous abuse out, spit on Obi-Wan, and watch gleefully as Maogg ‘forced’ the Jedi to crawl forward and kiss the warden’s boots, occasionally adding a loud smack on the bare ass if Obi-Wan was too slow. Obi-Wan would then suck Maogg’s cock for a while until it was good and wet, then Maogg would fuck him long and slow with lots of vocals from both men. The warden would usually finish up by encouraging his visitors to heap their verbal abuse on the ‘Jedi scum’ before they left. Although it was a humiliating experience, especially for Obi-Wan, it was worth it if the warden thought it was his idea and let them stay together. At this point, the longer they were in prison, the more willing Obi-Wan was to put up with almost anything if he believed it would help them eventually escape.

The first snowfall arrived almost three tendays later on a gray afternoon. Obi-Wan decided to hoist himself up and look out the window, something he had not had an opportunity to do in quite a while since Maogg had begun monopolizing the opening. Standing on his bunk, he grabbed the two middle bars and began to pull. He was surprised to find the bars turning in his hands and started to exclaim, but suddenly Maogg was behind him, pushing him hard into the wall, holding him up.

“What’s going on, Mazhten?” hissed Obi-Wan.

“Stay away from the window,” growled Maogg, pulling Obi-Wan away and pushing him down on the other bunk. He silenced the Jedi’s protest with a ferocious kiss, something he seldom liked to do. Finishing the kiss, he groped the semi-naked body, playing with the nipple rings, making sure the camera had a good view. He leaned down and whispered in Obi-Wan’s ears. “The Mother has been helping me to loosen the bars each night. Leave them alone or you will ruin everything.”

Tired of being kept in the dark, Obi-Wan angrily whispered back. “When are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“When the time is right and it is needful.”

“Would you stop giving me that bantha shit! I’m really tired of –“ Obi-Wan stopped abruptly when he felt a cold hand reach inside his pants and grasp his testicles.

“When the time is right,” whispered Maogg slowly, a warning tone in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Mazhten. It’s. . . the waiting is difficult.” He paused, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. “Can’t you tell me about anything at all that is going to happen?” he pleaded.

“If you paid more attention when I sing to the Mother, you might learn something,” growled Maogg. “Now be quiet.”

Maogg flipped him over, pulled his pants off, oiled him, then leisurely fucked him while they waited for the evening meal. To emphasize his displeasure, he stimulated the Jedi’s cock to a full erection, then snugged the cock ring even tighter than usual as he slowly plowed him. Later, lying beside the sated clansman, Obi-Wan silently digested his latest bit of information to try to take his mind off his throbbing cock and the hot semen seeping from his sore ass.

******************* ******************

Most nights Obi-Wan had simply crouched and shivered on the cold floor during Maogg’s devotions to the Mother, his only intention to endure long enough to scramble back into their warm bed. He had become quite good at tuning out the sounds of pain and passion that always hung in the corridor as well as Maogg’s voice, sometimes not even fully waking during the proceedings. After Maogg’s comment, however, he began to actually listen to what Maogg was singing and tried to translate it into the common language they used together. Putting some of his Jedi training to use, he memorized the passages on several succeeding nights, then analyzed the results during his morning free time.

Puzzling through each of the sessions, he found that the first four minutes or so were exactly the same and seemed to be a set prayer praising the Mother and promising faithful obedience. The last two or three minutes seemed to have variations, however, and he found a variety of requests such as wisdom to succeed, understanding of her guidance and repeated references which seemed to translate as ‘we are ready for your coming’ and ‘we await’ followed by several words he could not yet understand. Remembering how the lyrical tenor seemed ideally suited to carry across the empty miles surrounding the prison, he began to realize that it would be quite possible to insert coded messages in the nightly devotions and wondered if there was really anyone out there to hear the words.

A light but steady snowfall began the next day. That night, Obi-Wan was again listening carefully and was startled to hear what seemed to be an answer to Maogg’s song. A high keening wail drifted across the countryside, carrying on for several minutes after Maogg had stopped.

A guard had lingered outside their cell to listen. Obi-Wan heard him muttering as he left, “Shit, the fuckin’ sherdons are already down from the mountains. Must be shapin’ for a hard winter.”

Thinking back to his mission research, an event that seemed a lifetime ago, Obi-Wan remembered that sherdons were fierce canid predators that ran in packs in the high mountains until the weather drove them to lower climes. As they climbed back into bed, he noticed that Maogg seemed to be more restless than usual. He decided to take a chance on the clansman’s communicativeness.

“Mazhten, may I ask a question?” asked Obi-Wan quietly.

An affirmative grunt was the response.

“That wasn’t really a sherdon, was it?”

There was a very long silence before Maogg moved his mouth next to the Jedi’s ear. “No.”

For the first time in months, Obi-Wan allowed himself a small flicker of hope that he might actually get out of this awful place.

******************** *****************

The light snow continued on and off for the next two days; every night there was an answering chorus of sherdon howls after Maogg’s songs to the Mother. During lulls in the snow, groups of high security prisoners were allowed out in the exercise yard for an hour. Obi-Wan was glad that Maogg finally allowed him to wear his tunic when they went out, but he noticed that as they ran around the slippery perimeter the clansman seemed to be more preoccupied than usual with studying the watchtowers and outer walls. Late afternoon of the third day the weather took a drastic turn for the worse; snow began pouring down steadily in a moaning wind. Soon visibility outside was reduced to a few feet. At the evening meal both prisoners and guards were on edge. Maogg took Obi-Wan straight to bed at lights out without requiring any service. They lay quietly for a while until the guards had finished their initial round.

Putting one hand over Obi-Wan’s mouth, Maogg leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Be silent and listen.” Obi-Wan nodded, so Maogg removed his hand before continuing. “The storm will run for at least three days. Tonight we leave so we will have maximum cover for the escape. There will be diversions at the other end of the prison. When you hear the fire alarms, begin tearing the blankets and sheets and tie them into a rope. I will be removing the bars. We will go out the window on the rope and drop the last several feet. In the maintenance building we will get tools and uniforms. After we remove the control collars, we are going to the lower level to retrieve another prisoner. When we have him, we are going to the outer wall. My people will open the wall from outside. We will leave with the other prisoner while other groups provide more diversions. Once we are outside we will go cross-country to rejoin my clan.”

Obi-Wan avidly absorbed the information he had wanted for so long. When he started to digest it, however, he caught the added complication. “Are you crazy?” he whispered urgently. “It’s going to be difficult enough just to get us out! How in the Force are we supposed to snatch another prisoner and take him with us?”

“The other prisoner is the reason I am in here. I volunteered to get him out; being put in here with you was a gift from the Mother, so we changed the plan. If you want out, you will help me get the other prisoner.” Maogg jabbed a finger in Obi-Wan’s chest. “I thought Jedi were supposed to help others,” he growled, a hint of contempt coloring his voice.

There was a long silence

“You’re all a bunch of crazy Sithspawn, you know,” Obi-Wan finally whispered resignedly. He sighed heavily. “Alright, I’ll do whatever we have to do to get out of this fucking hole. Your friend goes with us.”

A few hours later the harsh bell in the corridor began ringing in spaced triplets as the lights came up. All along the corridor prisoners began yelling and screaming as the guards ran out the door. “Fire! Fire!” “Let us out!” “Get us the fuck out!”

Both men scrambled out of bed and pulled on their clothes. Maogg jumped up on the other bunk and began ripping out the weakened bars while Obi-Wan quickly tore blankets and sheets into long strips. With the bars gone, Maogg helped finish the rope and tied it off to the one bar he had left in place. Within minutes both men had squeezed out the window, let themselves down and were hugging the wall in the driving snow as they felt their way along to the maintenance building.

Obi-Wan was too hyped to notice the cold as they broke into the other building by the simple expedient of Maogg kicking in the door. Maogg swiftly oriented himself, then turned to the right and searched along a row of metal lockers until he found one with dark tape along the top edge. He ripped off the flimsy lock and forced the door open. Inside were heavy duty cutters; grabbing the tool he worked on Obi-Wan’s control collar, after three tries finally severing it. Obi-Wan then took the cutters and sawed away at the clansman’s collar. His heart raced as the minutes passed too swiftly. The collar was finally mangled enough that Maogg was able to pull it off, gashing his neck in the process. Inside the locker were uniforms that could pass as a guard’s outfit and they pulled them on over their prison clothes. Maogg grabbed a small ring of keys and a black box, then urged them back out into the storm.

As they worked their way back along the wall, more alarms began going off from a different direction. At the ground level door near the exercise yard, Maogg inserted a key while holding the black box over the electronic print block. When he pressed a button on the box, there was a bright flash and the smell of burnt panels. The door swung open to reveal a surprised guard. Obi-Wan knocked him out while Maogg opened the inner door. They pulled the guard’s key ring, unlocked the doors at the end of a short corridor and headed down a ramp. The duo knocked out two more guards who were unable to react defensively when the control rods failed to have any effect, again pulling their key rings and also their neuron whips. The shrill fire alarms still filled the air. The two men ran down another long corridor of frenzied prisoners, stopping finally near an end cell. Maogg ran through a series of keys until he found one that unlocked the cell. The prisoner inside had not stirred despite the tremendous racket.

Maogg stepped inside and began wrapping the prisoner in his blankets while Obi-Wan kept watch with both whips. Having secured their objective, they started back down the corridor. The cameras and internal communication must have still been working properly; the next guards they encountered came straight at them with their neuron whips instead of trying the control rods. Obi-Wan took out one with a flying kick and the other with the whip, leaving him lying on the ground screaming. They headed back up the ramp to the ground level, but ran into a group of guards at the doorway. Maogg put down his burden; staying back to back they fought savagely, giving no quarter until they had downed the opposition. The clansman once more picked up the comatose prisoner and they made it out of the building into the storm.

They felt their way along the outside of the exercise yard until they reached the electrified wire fence. Maogg handed his burden to Obi-Wan, then stood for several moments as if gathering himself. He took two neuron whips, activated them at full power, and swiftly slashed through several wires, which spat and sparkled as they shorted out under the extra power surge from the whips. Maogg shook himself, then led his companion on toward the outer wall. It was impossible to see more than a foot in front of them, but Obi-Wan thought he recognized the jutting brick surface as being directly underneath one of the towers where it would be impossible for the guards to fire on them, even with heat seekers, without leaning out dangerously from the tower. Obi-Wan heard a new type of alarm begin keening a high pitched wail.

“What next?” Obi-Wan shouted, leaning in close.

“They are cutting in from the other side,” Maogg shouted back.

“What’s that other alarm?”

Maogg looked at him for a moment, then shouted back, “Force monitors.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he had heard right. Force monitors? A wild hope sprang up in his breast; could it possibly be?

A block of bricks came tumbling down, followed by the sweeping strokes of a lightsaber enlarging the hole. Obi-Wan started forward eagerly. It was definitely a lightsaber; he’d recognize that sound anywhere. Coming closer, he briefly stopped in dismay, an impossible hope dashed. It was a lightsaber, a brilliant blue-white blaze in the swirling snow. He had to admit it was a welcome sight even if it wasn’t the green blade he had dreamed of. Obi-Wan swallowed his disappointment as they quickly moved into the hole; at least the Jedi had sent someone for him and he had not been totally abandoned.

Outside the wall the escapees were met by a group of six people, all heavily clothed and cloaked against the weather. Except for the lightsaber the Jedi was indistinguishable from the rest, but he stood apart, eyes closed, facing the watchtower. The extra prisoner was quickly wrapped in layer after layer of blankets and furs, then carefully secured in a traveling stretcher with straps at each end for carrying. Another clansman pulled two sets of heavy clothing and boots from a hide bag and thrust them at Maogg and Obi-Wan. Suddenly there was a series of explosions from the five watchtowers along this wall, followed rapidly by more explosions inside the prison. The Jedi stumbled and was caught by a companion; Obi-Wan knew he must have used a great deal of Force energy to cause that many diversions. He started to go to the Jedi but was roughly pulled back by Maogg.

“We go now,” he shouted, urging the young man to finish pulling on his boots and gloves. The group split into two teams of four; the team with the Jedi headed off rapidly into the storm before Obi-Wan could react. In the remaining group, Obi-Wan was pushed into position at the back of the stretcher and the straps were fastened around his shoulders. Maogg took the front of the rack, and the newcomers took up positions at front and rear. They headed off into the night at a quick trot.

****************** ******************

Over the next few days Obi-Wan gained a thorough understanding of why Maogg had constantly pushed him so hard to stay in top physical shape and get hardened to the cold. They slogged steadily through the storm, changing off on the stretcher every few hours, chewing on dried meat for sustenance. There was a brief stop about twenty hours in when they reached the scrub forest. The stop was primarily for the benefit of the fifth member of the group; they unwrapped him and massaged his limbs, then rewrapped him. Obi-Wan caught a few glimpses of a young man, dirty brown hair framing a pale, thin face. The other members took advantage of the stop to relieve themselves, drink some water, and redistribute their scant supplies.

Starting off again, they pushed steadily for another twenty four hours, across valleys, streams, forests and rocks. Obi-Wan had long since lost any sense of direction in the snow as they turned, twisted and doubled back to throw off any pursuit; the only thing that was clear was that they were going steadily higher up into the foothills he had seen from the cell. At their next stop they lit a tiny fire and heated soup. The man in the stretcher seemed to be finally gaining consciousness and they were able to get some hot soup into him. Obi-Wan gathered from the limited conversation that he was somebody important and had probably been heavily drugged while in the prison. They pushed on again; Obi-Wan forced himself to keep up, one step at time, determined not to be left behind or slow the group down.

On the third day they reached a cave high up in the hills and rendezvoused with another team on foot as well as two others who were already there with a group of ghiphnen, sturdy four legged riding beasts. Another brief stop for more hot soup, then everyone was mounted, the stretcher was slung between two shaggy ghiphnen, and off they went. The storm finally died down on the fourth day, but they traveled on for six more, higher into the mountains, through a pass, then far down the other side to a protected valley lined with caves and thick-walled long houses. Obi-Wan was exhausted and had only brief memories of arriving, falling off the ghiphnen, and being bundled off to a warm spring for a thorough washing.

****************** ******************

Obi-Wan stretched extravagantly in the warm bed, soft blankets pleasant against his naked skin. The light was dim and there was a light smoky odor in the air. He stretched again, content to bask in the warmth as his mind slowly tried to wrap itself around the puzzle of where he was.

“Good morning,” came a low rumble as the figure beside him propped its head up on one hand. Maogg grinned at him lazily.

“Good morning, Mazhten,” Obi-Wan said, putting his hands behind his head. “May I ask where we are?”

“We are in the White Panther winter camp,” replied Maogg. “You are safe from the southerners.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out very slowly as a smile lit up his face. ~ Thank the Force, ~ he thought dreamily. The apprentice rested quietly for several moments, savoring the feeling of freedom.

“Thank you for getting me out of the prison,” Obi-Wan said as he finally looked around with more interest. They seemed to be in a partitioned area consisting of the bed, several shelves on the back wall filled mostly with tools, weapons, clothes, and personal sundries, and a bench running the length of the opposite wall. Above the bench hung a superbly finished short sword, a heavy scabbard of polished dark wood, an unstrung bow and a fringed hide quiver covered in an exquisite pattern of colored beads. The fourth wall was a heavy blanket on rings stretched across the opening. “I suppose I should also be thanking several others of your clan as well.”

“You are welcome. You will have an opportunity to meet the other clan members this evening. We are having a clan gathering to recognize those who helped in the rescue.”

At that point Obi-Wan’s bladder made an urgent request for attention. Seeing the expression on the Jedi’s face, Maogg smiled again and suggested it was time they both arose. He provided a pair of soft leather pants and boots for the young man, then pulled back the curtain that opened to the central common area. At the end of the building two rooms had been set aside for men and women with quite efficient indoor plumbing. After they had taken care of their immediate need, Maogg showed his charge around the empty common area, explaining briefly that most of the adults were out working while youngsters were in schooling. Partitioned areas of various sizes lined both long walls. One end of the building was the sanitary facilities and the other end was cooking facilities. Maogg got them bowls of thick porridge from a large pot and they sat at one of the tables in the center to eat. While they ate, Maogg talked about more of the clan history and how they lived, expanding on the lessons he had given in prison. Maogg started to explain more about the customs related to ownership; it was much more complex than Obi-Wan had originally understood. Obi-Wan was struggling to understand the complicated rules when two newcomers entered the building.

Maogg’s face lit up in a huge smile as he stood up. He spared a glance for his companion. “Stand up and be silent until you are recognized,” Maogg said quietly before leaving the table.

Obi-Wan stood and watched quietly as Maogg exchanged hugs and excited greetings first with an elderly, silver haired woman, then with a pale young man. They spoke too quickly for the apprentice to follow although Obi-Wan got the general impression that they were related. Finally they slowed down and walked back to the table.

“Grandmother, Laregg, this is the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Maogg said in the common tongue, pointing at the apprentice. “This is my grandmother, Nimaral, and my cousin, Laregg.”

Obi-Wan bowed and attempted a reply in the clan’s language. “I am very pleased to meet you. . .,” he paused as he realized he wasn’t sure of the appropriate title, “uh, grandmother of Maogg?”

“Nimaral is fine, young one,” she said with a laugh. “Titles are of no interest to me at my age.”

Obi-Wan bowed again. He noticed the strong family resemblance; tall, bright blue eyes, long limbs and square faces. Looking closer, he thought he recognized the young man. “Laregg? Weren’t you at the prison?”

“You have a good memory,” Laregg replied with a smile. “Yes, I was, and you have my thanks for helping me to get out of that terrible place.” He turned to Maogg. “And you too, of course, old friend. I am in your debt.”

Maogg laughed slyly as he dug an elbow into the young man’s ribs. “Don’t worry, I’m sure your father will find a suitable reward.” At Obi-Wan’s puzzled look, the clansman continued. “Laregg is too modest to mention it himself, but his father is Luthej, clan chief, son of Nimaral and Janek. Laregg’s rescue was the reason I went into the prison.” He hugged the young man and ruffled his hair. “The rescue is what we all worked on and we are all happy to have him back.” Laregg blushed as he weakly protested.

Nimaral shepherded them back to the table. “Sit, sit. You two should finish eating,” she said with a mild glare at the grinning Maogg. “What are you planning to do today, Masha?”

Maogg grimaced at the diminutive while Laregg grinned. “I thought I would take Obi-Wan around the camp and then, of course, to the gathering tonight. He still has much to learn of our ways.”

“Very much to learn, I suspect, if you were the teacher,” Nimaral said. She waved aside the mumbled protest. “You were always better at doing than telling. The poor boy is probably more confused than enlightened.” She ignored Laregg’s snicker as she turned to Obi-Wan. “What nonsense has my geph-footed clod of a grandson been filling you with today?”

“Maogg was explaining about the different relationships and types of ownerships, about masters, and, uh, ranshurr,” Obi-Wan said. He looked hesitantly at the clansman before continuing. “It does seem awfully confusing though.”

“I suppose to an outsider it might appear so,” said the matriarch thoughtfully. She leaned over the table. “You know of the Mother and Father?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Maogg explained many of the customs and teachings. The clan is very important if I understood correctly?”

“Yes, the most basic teaching of the Mother is that the clan is more important than any one person; everyone must serve and contribute to the best of their ability. The young are nurtured and taught, the old and infirm are cared for. There are family relationships and there are many types of owning relationships. The council rules the clan.”

“Your council sounds very similar to our Jedi Council, as does your system of masters and apprentices,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully.

“Again you are correct, although our council members are partly hereditary and partly elected. We rely more on our elders to guide the clan. Our masters are very skilled or learned in one or more areas and our seniors are like your Jedi rank of knight. Our young people serve and learn as do your apprentices. A person in service is a ranshurr, and the person they are serving is their mazhten, regardless of whatever other ranks or seniority they may hold.”

“But you seem to have a lot of rules about how all this works,” Obi-Wan said, “and Jedi don’t own each other.”

“You must remember that we all belong to the Mother and Father, and to the clan. Ownership is really just a dedication to the concept of obedience and service on the part of the owned and responsibility for care and teaching on the part of the owner.” Nimoral folded graceful hands on the table. “Some of the traditions are quite simple. Young people work at basic tasks such as herding or cleaning when they are not in schooling. Before they turn eighteen they have the option of offering themselves to a master or senior they particularly admire or want to learn from, even if they are in a different clan. At eighteen, if they are still uncommitted, they are given to a master or senior to serve for a term of at least three years; if they object to the assignment they can challenge but few do. The oldest son in a family must work at some skill but is exempt from ranshurr if he wishes; most prefer to learn from older family members.”

“But I had the impression that you fought for ownership?” Obi-Wan said, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead as he finished his breakfast.

Nimaral laughed, a light pleasant chuckle. “Men are like the Father Sun, brave and blustery. They do challenge and fight for many things, but women are usually content to follow the Mother’s ways. Women are also masters of many crafts and some are even hunters or warriors, but most are more interested in teaching and in the welfare of the clan.” She leaned forward. “Do not mistake quiet for meekness, young Jedi. Life is hard, and our women are tough. They enforce obedience and service just as quickly as the loudest warrior.”

“And swing a belt just as hard,” interjected Maogg with a mock shudder. Laregg grinned in agreement.

Pointedly ignoring the two grinning men, Nimaral continued. “Family is also very important. After they turn twenty-one young men and women are eligible to marry, either within or outside the clan. If they marry, they can either leave their mazhten or continue as part of their owner’s family if it is mutually agreeable. Once they have sufficient years and skill, they can be adjudged a senior and be assigned an apprentice of their own. Masters and seniors can have as many apprentices as they can support and teach. Youngsters and oldsters without family or masters live together and serve the clan under the guidance of clan elders.”

“I don’t fit into any of those situations. I belong to the Jedi, not to anyone on this planet.”

“All clans recognize that young unassigned or unmarried males, especially those caught on raids or away from their clans without protection of a trade peace, may be challenged by masters or seniors.” She reached over and patted the Jedi’s hand. “In the prison you had no clan. Therefore, when you lost in combat to Maogg, you became his property.”

“We’re not in prison any more,” Obi-Wan said stubbornly. “I want to go home. My master may be dead, but it is my duty to return to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.”

“You wear the marks of Maogg,” Nimaral said quietly.

“But, I am a Jedi –“

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she interrupted firmly, “this is your home and White Panther is now your clan. You submitted to Maogg and agreed to serve him; therefore you are ranshurr. You may discuss it further with your fellow Jedi when he returns, but he understands our customs. We have known of the Jedi for many lifetimes, and always they have been honorable warriors. I expect you to do your duty also, young Jedi. You will serve and Maogg will take care of you. There is nothing further to talk about.” Nimaral stood up, smiling to take some of the sting out of her words. She nodded to her kinsmen. “I shall see you at the gathering tonight.”

All three men automatically stood up as Nimaral turned away and left. Obi-Wan stood staring blankly after her, shoulders slumped, hands hanging loosely at his side.

~ Force, I thought everything would be fine if I could get out of that prison. ~ Obi-Wan closed his eyes, shook his head slightly. ~ I can’t believe this is really happening. ~

A heavy clout on the shoulder jarred the young Jedi from his thoughts.

“Come,” growled Maogg as he threw a cloak at the apprentice. “We will visit the camp.” He and Laregg headed for the door without looking back.

Obi-Wan stared after him, eyes hard, jaw clenching. ~ I should just tell the son of a bantha to go to hell, but then he’d probably beat me just to remind me he can do it. ~ He sighed. ~ Since I’m here, I suppose I should find out as much as I can about this place. ~ Obi-Wan wrapped the cloak around himself and started after the two clansmen. ~ Nimaral did say the other Jedi would be back tonight and I could talk to him. Maybe he can get this ranshurr thing straightened out. ~ Cheered a little by that thought, he hurried to catch up.

Their first stop was a plateau halfway up the side of a high hill which gave them an excellent view of the secluded valley. The far side of the long basin was heavily forested as were the hills immediately surrounding them. The mountains and taller hills behind them were covered in snow, but Maogg explained that this low down they would not expect heavy snow for another two or three tendays, and that it normally lasted only a few months. The floor was mostly tall grass, still green despite the lateness of the season. Obi-Wan saw several large corrals, a half dozen long buildings similar to the one in which he had awakened, a few smaller buildings and one long, low building which Maogg indicated was the gathering house. The buildings were connected by well worn paths with overhead cover. Laregg pointed out the pass at the far end of the valley; the herds of ghiphnen would be brought up from lower pastures later that day. Each tenday the ghiphnen, who provided meat, milk, hides, fur and riding animals, were rotated back to the valley for a few days. While assembled in the valley and corrals, they could be checked for health, a few slaughtered for fresh meat, and their dung collected for additional fuel.

Maogg and Laregg took Obi-Wan on a tour of the buildings, the outer corrals, and an extensive cave system with warm springs for bathing, caves for storage and for livestock. Further back in the caves were two very cold springs fed by an underground river which provided drinking and cooking water. Obi-Wan was struck by the mix of modern efficiencies such as indoor plumbing and solar lighting with the prevalence of low technology such as leather clothing, hand woven blankets, edged weapons and open fires for cooking. Maogg just shrugged and said they used what suited the Mother and allowed them to live a lifestyle close to nature but still protect themselves from predators human and animal. Many of the people they saw during the day worked shirtless, enjoying the relatively benign weather; most had tattoos and many also had piercings of various sorts. As midday approached, they were touring a series of caves set up as workshops for many different crafts such as weaving, sewing, carving, leatherworking and fine jewelry. In between Maogg’s explanations and chats with friends, Laregg spent time asking questions about the Jedi and his life on Coruscant. Obi-Wan quickly found himself developing a liking for the quiet young clansman.

“Good day, Laregg, Maogg,” called a brawny elder as the visitors entered a large workplace set up as a smithy. There were five different fires of various sizes which were vented to the outside and several work tables, anvils and a large assortment of tools. The tall man wiped the sweat from his face, then retied the cloth that held his long silver hair out of the way. Red stone studs gleamed in both ears. “It is good to have both of you back.”

“Good day, Futroj,” Maogg said. “It is very good to be back.” He patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder proudly. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my Jedi. He helped us to get out of prison.” He nodded at the elder and began introductions. “Futroj is the senior Master Smith, Vanok is a Master Smith, Goniv and Velaj are senior Smiths.” Maogg waved his hand vaguely at several younger men and a young woman. “Those are the ranshurr who work for the different smiths.”

Obi-Wan bowed to the various men as he was introduced. Looking at the neatly hung tools, he turned to Maogg. “Mazhten, there are some very good cutting tools here. Can we take this collar off?”

Futroj came close, leaning down to finger the Force inhibitor. “Hmmm, odd sort of metal there, but we should be able to get it off if you want,” he said.

“It is not a normal collar,” Maogg said, shaking his head. “The other Jedi left word that removing this kind of collar after so long a time may not be safe without a special Jedi healer present. He said the sudden return to the Mother’s presence can cause mind sickness.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “Do you know of such things?”

Although disappointed, Obi-Wan had to admit it was possible. “I have heard of cases of what our healers call psychic shock among recovered hostages and prisoners who had had Force dampeners on for a long time.”

“Best to leave it on for now, I think,” Maogg said. “Perhaps we can ask the Jedi about it when he returns.”

“Yes, Mazhten,” Obi-Wan replied, resigned to patience for the moment. “You know, I have heard several people refer to the other Jedi, but no one ever says his name. Surely someone here can tell me who he is?”

“I asked the same question,” Laregg said with a smile, “but he said there are evil people seeking him, and he asked that his name not be used and his presence not be discussed.”

“Aye, he did, and the council agreed to honor the request,” Futroj said with a shrug. “It was the least we could do for his help.” He smiled as two young men came in, one balancing a large pot and the other carrying a large basket. “Would you like to join us for midmeal?”

“Thank you,” Maogg said. “Obi-Wan, you will help the other ranshurr, then you may eat with them.”

“Yes, Mazhten.”

Obi-Wan helped a young man and the young woman clear off a worktable, carefully removing several works in progress. They set the table, then served bowls of soup, sandwiches and flagons of cool water to the Masters and Seniors. Most of the ranshurr were then allowed to get food and sit at another table.

“Hi,” said a tall, broad shouldered young man with gold nipple rings and a collar of gold and silver chain links. “Are you really a Jedi?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied around mouthfuls of soup. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I have been a Jedi most of my life.”

“I’m Bavod. I’ve belonged to Futroj since I was seventeen.” He pointed proudly to a tattoo of a stylized knife on his right shoulder. “Since my twenty-second birthday I have been allowed to make basic tools on my own.”

Another of the young men started to reply when they were interrupted by a flash at a small fire where another ranshurr was still working. Senior Smith Goniv cursed and hurried over to push the young man away. He inspected a crooked piece of cooling iron, cursed again, rapidly pointed out several faults in the piece, then disgustedly threw the ruined piece on a rework pile. The young man knelt as Goniv took off his leather belt, then rapidly administered a dozen lashes. Goniv returned to the work table, dragging the other by his iron collar. The surly young man knelt again as the smith opened his pants and pulled his penis out before sitting down. Everyone continued eating unconcernedly as Goniv was serviced by the youth kneeling between his legs.

“Looks like Kelvat is only getting liquid lunch today,” snickered Bavod.

“Does this sort of thing happen often?” Obi-Wan asked, uncomfortable at the public display and some of the memories it brought back.

“Kelvat is lazy and doesn’t pay attention to his work. He deserves it,” said the young woman quietly. “My name is Muleesa, by the way. I also belong to Master Futroj.” She looked fondly toward the other table. “He says if I work hard I will be good enough to test for first level in another year,” she added proudly.

“Pleased to meet you,” Obi-Wan replied. “Actually, though, doesn’t any of this bother you? I mean the whole idea of being owned, of being punished and having sex in public.”

“What a strange idea!” Bavod exclaimed. The others nodded in agreement. “We all belong to the Mother and nothing is more important than the clan. We all serve the clan, it is our duty to also serve as ranshurr. It is the mazhten’s duty to teach and to discipline.” He shrugged. “Sex is just one of the ranshurr’s duties, either with your mazhten or for mazhten to trade. It doesn’t matter if you like it or not.”

“But out in the open? Whenever they want? With whomever they tell you to?” Horror at the thought of being whored out made his stomach tighten.

“Of course,” Bavod said with a bewildered expression. “I like being taken by Mazhten, especially when he is in a good mood, but he has three ranshurr and a wife so I don’t get to do it as often as I would like.” His face brightened a little. “He does sometimes trade us out, though, and if we’ve been good, Mazhten Futroj lets his ranshurr have sex with other ranshurr, especially for festivals and trade fairs, so it’s not so bad. I thought Jedi had their own mazhten? Don’t they let you have sex?”

“We have masters, but they never require sex from their apprentices. Those who are of age can have sex with other apprentices if they wish to.” Obi-Wan looked around the group. “But nobody here minds being forced to provide sexual services?”

“Well, I suppose Patob minds the sex, but that’s because he’s in looovve,” Muleesa teased.

A gangly young man with curly brown hair blushed bright scarlet. “That doesn’t mean I shirk my duties. Besides, Mazhten Vanok has already said he would give his blessing for me to court her at the next spring trading with the Red Sherdon clan,” he said with quiet dignity before turning his attention back to his soup.

After general exclaiming and wonder about Jedi sex habits, the conversation turned more general as the two youngest ranshurr were called over to replenish the food and drink at the other table. Mostly Bavod talked about his plans for becoming a master smith, disclosing that Futroj had agreed to allow him to stay on as ranshurr until he could pass the tests to become a senior smith. Muleesa showed off a new set of woven silver and copper nipple rings Master Futroj had given her for her recent birthday. Several of the young men then offered to display the rings in their penises, but Obi-Wan politely declined, much to their puzzlement. After the meal was finished it was almost time for high sun, so the ranshurr cleaned up and everyone headed outside except for one ranshurr whose turn it was to watch the fires.

Clan members of all ages gathered in the grass outside the communal buildings, forming a loose circle. Clan elders moved inside the circle. When the sun reached its highest point, everyone went to one knee. For several minutes the elders led a chant and response in homage to Father Sun. Obi-Wan knelt respectfully, wedged between Maogg and Laregg, as the group continued into the low, sing song chants that he remembered from Maogg’s prayers in the prisons. They sang of thanks for the Father’s gifts, sang of strength, the hunt, and battle. Swept up in the group song, Obi-Wan was surprised when he realized that almost half an hour had passed without him noticing before the group switched to silent individual prayers. They then began dispersing to return to work.

Stretching after the devotions, Obi-Wan noticed Nimaral and another woman heading slowly toward them. Nimaral’s companion had waist-length white hair, her weathered face heavily lined but light blue eyes still clear and bright.

“Laregg,” called Nimaral quietly.

The three men waited respectfully.

“Nimaral, Healer Sorola.” Laregg nodded in acknowledgement of the two women, a wary expression on his face.

“Take your shirt off,” said the healer brusquely.

“I feel fine,” Laregg protested.

Both women glared fiercely until the young clansman hastily pulled off his shirt and stood meekly while the healer poked, prodded and hmmm’d. Obi-Wan had to stifle a sympathetic smile at the familiar routine.

“Well, you’re not doing too badly,” the healer finally said grudgingly. “Those were powerful drugs they used on you, though, and you are not to overexert yourself.”

“Yes, Healer Sorola.”

The old woman glanced up sharply, not trusting the mild tone. “That includes not overdoing it when the herds come in, and only two dances tonight,” she said firmly.

“But that’s. . . .“ Laregg’s protest died under another combined glare. “Yes, Healer Sorola,” he sighed.

As the two women walked away, Laregg stood muttering under his breath.

Nimaral paused and looked back. “You’re not too big to take a belt to, young man.”

“Yes, grandmother,” said Laregg, his face flushing.

Waiting until the women were out of sight, Obi-Wan grinned and Maogg laughed and clapped his cousin on the back. “I imagine healers and women are the same everywhere, eh little Jedi?” asked Maogg with another laugh as he dug an elbow into the apprentice’s side.

“Yes, Mazhten, especially the healers,” Obi-Wan answered, still grinning.

“Hmmpph,” grunted Laregg.

“Come on,” Maogg said, still smiling as he pulled Obi-Wan away, “he’ll get over it.”

The big clansman took his ranshurr back to his quarters to explain some of his duties and find a full set of clothing for him. The annoyed Laregg trailed behind but soon regained his good humor. An hour later they went back out after a young boy dashed through the building announcing the arrival of the herds. For the rest of the afternoon they helped the older teens and unoccupied seniors as they joined some thirty mounted herders in slowly sorting out the various ghiphnen into the proper corrals.

By early evening Obi-Wan was more than ready to head to the main assembly hall for the ceremony and meal, hungry both for food and a chance to meet the mysterious missing Jedi. After they entered the hall, they set aside their cloaks and took a seat on one of the long benches in front. When the hall was full, the clan chief stood up and led everyone in prayers of thanks to the Father and Mother, with lots of effusive praise in particular for the Mother and her help in the success of the mission. The chief then presented his rescued son to the assemblage, praising him for risking his life in rescuing several other people. Obi-Wan was not quite certain of the translation, but it seemed that children were involved somehow and it was during the rescue that Laregg was captured after he volunteered to serve as the rear guard. The next stage of the ceremonies involved recognizing, one at a time, each person who had helped in Laregg’s recovery. The chief started with praise for the unnamed but undoubtedly valiant inside sources at the prison, then worked his way up through each person who was involved in each stage of the preparation and actual rescue. By the time they got to the people who had actually been on the raid, Obi-Wan’s patience was wearing thin and he shifted impatiently, his empty stomach grumbling. Maogg glared at him threateningly.

Maogg was the last clansman to be called forward and there was still no sign of the other Jedi. Maogg brought Obi-Wan with him to the center of the hall and they bowed respectfully to the chief.

The chief raised his arms as he spoke. “I call upon you, the people of the White Panther clan, to honor this man whom the Mother has chosen for her favors. Maogg, kinsman to our son, a mighty hunter, and a valiant warrior, volunteered to go into the darkness where so many people of the clans have dwindled and died, of his own free will to leave the sight of both Father and Mother and strive in the blackness to rescue our son Laregg. This thing he has done, our son has been restored, and we will sing praise to the name of Maogg.”

Maogg knelt humbly before the chief, pulling Obi-Wan down also, as the group chanted joyously of sacrifice rewarded, of bravery and of victory. When they were finished the two men stood up again.

“For his actions in rescuing our son, Maogg shall have first choice of the spring foals, a place of honor at the feast tables, and first choice of trade goods in the spring.” There was loud cheering as Maogg bowed again. The chief raised his arms again for silence. “There is another thing of which we must also speak. As most of you know, many moons ago we had visitors, strong and honorable warriors of the clan Jedi. They had not our ways, yet were strong with the Mother’s gifts, which they call the Force, and sought orphans who were also strong in Her gifts in order to train them. We freely gave such a child to the Jedi when they visited, and the Jedi also took children from the southerners, children who otherwise would be denied the light of the Mother’s ways. This was a difficult and dangerous thing to do and our council applauded their courage. A young Jedi was captured on this mission, and was sent to the darkness of the prison. Life was hard for him, for the southerners hate the Jedi far more than they do any clan and deprived him of the Mother’s gifts. The Mother intervened, however, and brought our two causes together; our clansman Maogg was put in the same cell as the Jedi. This young Jedi was a formidable warrior but Maogg was able to best him and claimed him; together they sustained each other in the darkness. In the fullness of time, the young Jedi returned the favor of the Mother and played an important role inside the prison in directly rescuing our son and bringing him out of the darkness. My people, let us sing praise to the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi of the clan Jedi.”

The two men knelt as the group chanted again. Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder what else they could possibly have to talk about and whether or not the elusive other Jedi was in fact going to appear. He looked around as they stood up but could see only clan members.

Once the room was silent, the chief began again. “There is one more person we must honor this night. A wise and valiant warrior, stronger in the Mother’s gifts than any I have ever seen, and a very honorable man. A Jedi Master who came to us from the stars, whose mission became joined to ours, who helped us these many moons, and who used his gifts to make the rescue possible on that wonderful night. Please come forward, Master Jedi, to receive our gratitude.”

A figure detached itself from the deep shadows at the far end of the room and slowly glided forward into the light. Tall, with face hidden in the hood of his cloak, he moved with uncanny, silent grace, stopping in front of the king, near the other two honorees. Obi-Wan’s stomach was trying to climb up his throat as all sorts of wild hopes dashed through his head like a herd of stampeding ghiphnen. His eyes were fixed on the hood as hands peeking from the deep sleeves slowly rose, grasped the sides of the hood, then suddenly drew it back.

~ Qui-Gon! You’re alive! ~ Obi-Wan stood transfixed, barely breathing, afraid to move in case it was just a dream brought on by wishful thinking. The tall figure looked straight ahead at the chief, not even a furtive glance at anything else.

“My people, I present the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Let us sing praise to his name.”

Qui-Gon knelt as the group began another round of heartfelt chanting. As the songs ended, he stood up, still staring only at the chief.

Obi-Wan could not stand still or be silent any longer. With a joyous cry of “Master!”, he started forward, but was stopped abruptly by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked back incredulously, then started to snarl.

“Padawan,” came the softly spoken command.

Responding instantly to his years of training, Obi-Wan fell silent, then sank to his knees. “Master, it is me, Obi-Wan. We can go home now.”

The Master finally turned, two quick steps bringing him close. The blue eyes were clouded with pain, the face sad, as Qui-Gon answered. “No.”

The room fell totally silent as the stunned apprentice rocked back on his heels. Hurt and bewilderment spun the gray eyes to almost black. “Master, please. . .I don’t understand.”

Qui-Gon took a deep breath as he settled his clenched hands back into the sleeves of his robes. “Padawan, when you were first captured, I tried to rescue you, but was trapped by the police when I tripped their Force monitors. I barely escaped into the river and was saved by clansmen from White Panther. As I recovered, we found that we both had people in prison that we wanted out, and I agreed to work with them. It was the will of the Force that Maogg ended up in your cell due to the warden’s scheming.” He paused, looked down for a moment. “Obi-Wan, if there had been any way for me to get into the prison myself and get you out, I would have done so, but we found out they had placed Force monitors on the prison perimeters, monitors specifically tuned to detect Jedi use of the Force.”

“Yes, Master, I think I understand that,” said Obi-Wan uncertainly, a quaver in his voice. “But that’s over. I’m here, we’re free. Why can’t we go home?”

Qui-Gon shifted uncomfortably as the apprentice waited for an answer. He looked around the room, worrying at his lower lip, before letting his gaze return to Obi-Wan. His breathing was shallow, his face uncharacteristically pale.

“I agreed to help with the rescue in return for the clan’s help in protecting you and freeing you. If Maogg had not been put in your cell, the clan had already agreed to send another volunteer in to try to help you. This would have been a tremendous sacrifice for a people so attuned to living free. In return for their help, I agreed not only to help with the rescue but to teach them of our ways, of better ways to use the Mother’s gifts.” He paused, reached out to briefly touch Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I also gave my word that we would abide by their customs.”

“Yes, Master. I appreciate the fact that I would not be here without their help,” Obi-Wan said impatiently, “but you did a lot for them as well. I still don’t understand why we can’t leave.”

“I agreed that we would abide by *all* of their customs.” He paused again, drawing a ragged breath, then looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Since Maogg claimed you, and you submitted to his service, you must remain in his service, to obey and serve faithfully, for at least another year before you can challenge him for your release. You are ranshurr, Obi-Wan, and I can not change that.”

“What!” exclaimed the apprentice angrily. “But that. . .that’s insane.” He looked at Maogg. “That was under duress, surely everyone must see that. I didn’t give *my* word to do any of this.”

Maogg looked on silently as Qui-Gon spoke again. “Did Maogg best you in personal combat?”

Obi-Wan looked up, eyes raging, jaw clenched. “Yes, Master.”

“Did you submit to him, offer your service?”

“I was going to die in that place, Master, he was going to let me freeze to –“

“Answer the question,” interrupted Qui-Gon sternly.

“Yes, Master,” answered Obi-Wan angrily.

“Then you are ranshurr; you belong to him and must stay.” Qui-Gon started to reach out to his apprentice again but abruptly drew his hand back. He swallowed hard before turning to Maogg. “Maogg, Obi-Wan is yours.” Obi-Wan stared at his master, mouth open in stunned anger and astonishment. Qui-Gon glanced toward Obi-Wan, started to speak, but stumbled over the words. He took another deep breath and continued, “I acknowledge your claim, Maogg, and I thank you for saving him. Obi-Wan is young, and can be stubborn and wild tempered, and I understand that you will need to discipline him at times. I say to you, however, that he is a good-hearted person, and very precious to me.”

Maogg inclined his head gracefully. “I know that he cares deeply for you, and it is clear that he means much to you. I shall take good care of him.” He raised his voice to address the chief and the crowd. “I declare before all that I continue my claim on the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, and that Master Jinn is truly an honorable man who honors us and the clan Jedi with his sacrifice.”

There was a general round of cheering and stamping of feet. Obi-Wan continued kneeling in sick disbelief. He had come out of a Sithspawned hell of despair to find his dreams come alive again, only to be rejected in favor of duty and honor. Force, his master wouldn’t even look at him, was just going to leave him here.

Qui-Gon stood quietly, his expression withdrawn, eyes focused on the ground, until the noise died down again. He looked up to address the chief. “Are you satisfied that honor has been observed, that all obligations have been fulfilled?”

“We are very satisfied, Master Jedi. There are no further claims on either side, but you will always be welcome at our fires as a member of our family.”

“I thank you, and I thank the people of the White Panther clan for the help they have given me and my apprentice.” He paused again. “There is now another custom I wish to invoke, if I may be allowed. It is an old custom, seldom used, but I believe it is appropriate in this situation.”

“Master Jinn, tonight is for celebration, to honor the rescue of Laregg. There will be no new business.”

“But it is very important, Chief Luthej,” entreated Qui-Gon, “and will not take much time –“

“I’m sorry, but not tonight,” the chief replied with an apologetic smile. “We will gather again to sing to the Mother and we can talk then, if you wish, or at the next gathering.”

Qui-Gon bowed in acquiescence. “Of course. Thank you for your patience. I shall wait.”

The next few hours seemed an eternity of misery for the young Jedi, accentuated by the contrast to the simple enjoyment of the clan members on this festive evening. Obi-Wan sat huddled next to Maogg, keeping him supplied with food and drink in between the singing and dancing. He could see Qui-Gon at the other end of the building, trying to remain unobtrusive in the semi-darkness but occupied by a stream of well wishers.

Twin flutes piped a joyful tune as the drummer kept the dancers moving swiftly to the beat. Nimoral’s silvery laugh floated over the room as she led a line of women into a circle dance, the men cheering and clapping appreciatively.

~ How can he just sit there like nothing’s wrong? ~ Obi-Wan thought resentfully, staring dully at Qui-Gon. ~ Doesn’t it mean anything to him that I’m stuck here with this bastard? ~

Bavod stopped by to invite Obi-Wan to dance, but the young Jedi just shook his head as Bavod was dragged away by two smiling young women. Obi-Wan could see Maogg standing near a fire, smiling, hands gesturing. After several minutes he came back to join Obi-Wan, and they ate while the clansman regaled their nearest companions with hunting stories.

Later Laregg came over to sit with them and tried to keep the glum apprentice occupied while Maogg danced or talked with friends. He was cheerfully trying to point out the benefits of belonging to White Panther clan but not making much headway. The clansman sipped occasionally of the lightly alcoholic fermented brew in his glass.

Returning from another dance, Maogg drained the mug of water Obi-Wan had been holding for him, then sent him off for a mug of ale. As he returned, Obi-Wan saw the two kinsmen whispering, then Maogg nodded.

“Your ale, Mazhten.”

“Thank you.” Maogg paused, glanced at Laregg. “Do you wish to speak to Master Jinn?”

Obi-Wan’s breath froze as he stared at the ground. Without looking up, he finally answered, “Yes, Mazhten.”

“Go on then.” Maogg jerked his head in Qui-Gon’s direction. “I’ll be leaving soon. I’ll collect you then.”

“Thank you, Mazhten.”

Obi-Wan slowly made his way across the floor, standing respectfully to one side while Nimaral chatted with Qui-Gon.

“Good evening, Obi-Wan,” Nimaral said quietly, acknowledging the young man’s presence.

“Good evening, Nimaral,” Obi-Wan replied with a bow.

“I’m sure we shall speak again later, Master Jinn,” Nimaral said as she rose, smiling. “The gathering will be breaking up soon. Tomorrow is another work day, and there will be more work than usual while the herds are in.”

Qui-Gon rose and bowed as the matriarch departed, then returned to his seat. Neither man could feel the training bond while Obi-Wan was still wearing the collar, and there was an awkward silence between the two men for several moments as they tried to determine how to proceed.

“Master,” said Obi-Wan formally, “it is good to see you alive and well.”

“Thank you, Padawan,” Qui-Gon replied. “It is good to see you out of that prison.”

Another self-conscious silence.

Finally Obi-Wan could stand it no longer. He knelt down and pressed himself against Qui-Gon’s leg. “Master, please tell me you’re not really going to leave me here. We are going home, aren’t we?” he pleaded.

Qui-Gon reached out and pushed the apprentice back to arm’s length. “Padawan,” he said firmly, “control yourself. I cannot jeopardize over two hundred years of work that have gone into developing the Jedi’s relationship with the clans just for one individual. You must understand that.”

“No, I don’t. And *you* don’t understand what it’s like, what I’ve been through. You’ve lived with these people, you’ve seen how they treat the ranshurr. I can’t stay here. Don’t you care about what is happening to me?”

“Padawan, you will do what you must.” The Master’s expression softened. “Obi-Wan, I do care, a great deal, and I will get you out if I can. There is at least one more thing I can try, but we have to wait until the singing later. Even if that doesn’t work, if you do have to stay, I will see if I can at least get a Healer out here to take that collar off. That is all I can promise.”

Obi-Wan leaned angrily into the arm holding him away. “We don’t have to wait. I could leave at any time, Master,” he whispered urgently. “We could just slip away, head back to the space port – “

“No,” hissed Qui-Gon. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve been saying? I will get you out legally, in accordance with their customs, or you *will* stay here. For now, you must be patient, give me an opportunity to work on this. Please trust me, Obi-Wan.”

“I don’t believe this! How can you –“ Obi-Wan’s outburst was cut short as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Good evening, Master Jinn,” Maogg said. “I hope you have enjoyed the gathering.”

“Yes, thank you, Maogg,” Qui-Gon replied as he stood up. “It was a good gathering. Everyone has been most kind.”

“Good. The next few days will be busy, but after that I am looking forward to teaching Obi-Wan the hunting ways.” He riffled the apprentice’s hair fondly, ignoring the apprentice’s angry expression. “If he can hunt half as well as he fights, he will bring much meat to our tables.”

“Obi-Wan is usually a quick learner,” replied Qui-Gon stiffly. “I am sure he will do well.”

Maogg looked at the Jedi Master, noting the formal posture and hooded eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, “I will take good care of the boy.” Maogg pulled Obi-Wan to his feet. “Good night, Master Jinn.”

*************** ****************

Obi-Wan lay silently under the heavy blanket, his guts knotted, his thoughts running on a tired treadmill of anger and pain. He clutched a pillow to his chest, his back warmed by the heat of the clansman spooned behind him. He was thankful that Maogg had not demanded service before quickly dropping off to sleep, but he could feel the heavy cock nudging his naked ass, and he remembered the sounds of sex coming from many of the cubicles inside the building as people drifted back from the gathering.

~ How could he do this to me? I thought everything would be fixed if I could only get out of that place, and it was so wonderful to find out that Qui-Gon is alive. But everything is so wrong now. How can I trust him when he pushed me away? My own master, telling me I have to stay in this miserable place, serve as ranshurr. How could he possibly do this to me? ~

For hours the young man drifted in a fog of dull hurt, beyond tears. Obi-Wan was so preoccupied he failed to notice when Maogg quietly rose and slipped on leggings and boots.

“Oww!” Obi-Wan yelped at the sudden sharp sting across his ass. “What the hell –“ Another swat silenced him as he was yanked out of bed.

“The Mother is bright,” Maogg said quietly. There were quiet murmurs and shuffling in the common area.

Obi-Wan pulled on his leggings and boots in the dim light, grabbed his cloak, then grudgingly followed Maogg as they joined the line of people heading out the door.

The night was crisp and clear, a slight breeze making Obi-Wan grateful for the warmth of the heavy cloak. The clan gathered in a circle, kneeling close together, faces up to the soft light of the stars and bright half moon. Laregg slipped in beside the apprentice, smiling at Obi-Wan and Maogg before directing his attention upward.

The chief Luthej began with a short chant, smooth baritone rising softly above the crowd. The entire clan then joined in, a surprisingly harmonious voice ringing through the valley and ascending to the heavens. Despite himself, Obi-Wan was slowly lifted from his wallow of angry self-pity by the energy and power of the singing. The joy of life, gratitude for the Mother’s gifts, pleasure and honor in serving Her; of all these things the clan sang with simple clarity and sincerity as they shared the warmth of each other’s bodies and spirits. By the time they were finished, Obi-Wan almost felt as if he had been able to touch the Force once more despite the inhibiting collar.

As the last clear note drifted across the valley, every one stood. Before the clanspeople could begin dispersing, Qui-Gon called out.

“I request a boon of the White Panther clan.”

There was silence for several moments as the chief stepped forward and looked at the Jedi Master. “You have new business to bring before the clan?”

“Yes. I have little time before I or my apprentice must return to my own people, and the matter is urgent.”

“Very well.” The chief raised his voice. “Send the children and younglings back to bed. Let all others meet in the clan house.”

A few minutes later the central house was relit and full of curious people. Conversations hummed around the long room.

The chief raised his arms. “Silence. Master Jinn wishes to address the clan. We shall listen to his request.”

Qui-Gon bowed to the chief. “I thank you for your time and attention. There is a custom of the clans that I wish to invoke, if I may be allowed. It is an old custom, seldom used, but I believe it is appropriate in this situation.”

“Of course, Master Jinn. You have honored us with your observation of our ways, even though they are so different from your own. Please proceed."

“Thank you, chief, people of the White Panther.” Qui-Gon turned and moved to stand in front of Maogg. “Maogg, you have in your service, as your ranshurr, the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Yes,” acknowledged Maogg, his expression puzzled.

“I offer myself in exchange for Obi-Wan,” said Qui-Gon. He took a deep breath and went to one knee before the clansman. “Free him, and I promise to obey and serve you in all things for the term of Obi-Wan’s service to you.”

The room instantly filled with buzzing of stunned conversations and stamping of feet. Such a thing had not been seen in many years, not in most people’s lifetimes, and certainly not by such a distinguished warrior.

Obi-Wan was probably the most stunned of all. He knew all too well the full extent of the ‘service’ that was required; the thought of his proud and elegant master reduced to menial duties and a convenient sex object was unbearable. On his knees he threw himself between the two men.

“No,” he cried. “Master, I can’t let you do this. Maogg, I will stay with you, I’ll do whatever you want. Please don’t take my Master.”

Maogg cuffed the apprentice hard, sending him sprawling to the floor. “This is not for you to say. Be silent.” Maogg looked appraisingly at the Jedi master kneeling before him as the miserable apprentice lay on the floor, wiping blood from his split lip. The room finally quieted enough for Maogg to be heard.

“Master Jinn, you understand that obedience is absolute and service includes *all* things of body and mind, whenever and wherever I choose?”

Qui-Gon looked up into the blue eyes that mirrored his own. “I understand what the service of ranshurr requires,” he said softly, “and you have my word that I shall serve all of your needs.”

Maogg stood for a moment with hands on hips, looking back and forth from older to younger Jedi. Very slowly he walked around the Jedi Master, then stopped in front of him. He reached out with one hand, running a tentative thumb along Qui-Gon’s jawline, tracing the edge of the beard.

~ No, no, please Force, don’t let him do this. ~ Obi-Wan watched, cursing the inhibiting collar that prevented him from contacting his Master or influencing the outcome, desperately willing the clansman to refuse the exchange. He cringed when Maogg touched Qui-Gon, fear and disgust warring with a flare of possessive jealousy.

Qui-Gon continued to kneel silently, looking steadily up at the clansman as Maogg ran a rough hand through the Jedi’s long hair, then a light fingertip across his lips. The crowd murmured speculatively as the inspection continued.

Maogg stepped back, licking his lower lip as he looked at Qui-Gon. Once more he looked contemplatively at the apprentice, who knelt, shaking his head, mouthing his plea silently. Finally he looked back at the older Jedi, then sighed heavily.

“Your offer is very tempting, Master Jinn. The taming and taking of one such as you would bring much honor and pleasure to the Mother.”

There was a low drone of whispered excitement in the room as the clansman took one last look at the two Jedi.

Finally, Maogg shook his head regretfully. “Unfortunately, I can not accept your offer.”

Qui-Gon clenched his hands as Obi-Wan sighed in relief, the small sound lost in the collective gasp.

“I have offered in good faith and sworn to serve you,” Qui-Gon said fiercely. “My word has always been good with the people of White Panther. Why will you not accept my plea?”

“I do not doubt the sincerity of your offer and your willingness to serve,” Maogg replied with another shake of his head. “Your offer is truly tempting, but the Mother requires that the obligation of service flow both ways, Master Jinn. I could care for your physical well-being, but I fear there is little I could teach you that you don’t already know better than I. No, I could not honorably fulfill my obligations to you, and I can not accept your offer. Kenobi must stay here.”

Finally accepting defeat, Qui-Gon’s shoulders sagged as he swallowed hard. Anguish filled his eyes as he looked at his fallen apprentice. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan.”

There was an appreciative silence in the room as the two Jedi looked at each other. Pain was evident on both faces, regret and longing hanging the in the air. Obi-Wan was torn inside by conflicting emotions: grateful that his beloved master would not be forced to serve but miserable that he had to stay.

The long silence was broken by Laregg. “Master Jinn, there is another custom you may wish to invoke.”

Qui-Gon stood up, a small glimmer of hope in his dull eyes. “What is that custom?”

“You have the right to request of the council that you be allowed to challenge Maogg for ownership of Obi-Wan.”

“You should not encourage such challenges,” the chief objected sharply, turning on his son. “It is seldom allowed; it causes too much dissension and ill-feelings, and has led to death challenges in the past. Why would you suggest this now?”

Laregg stood up, head high, to address the chief and the clan council. “It is clear to me that these two men of the clan Jedi care for each other a great deal and wish very much to leave together. Obi-Wan was only doing his clan duty when he ended up in the prison and became Maogg’s ranshurr. Master Jinn has strictly observed our customs when he could easily have just taken his apprentice and left in the night. By the Jedi clan customs, he is Obi-Wan’s rightful master, but has yielded to his sworn word to obey White Panther customs. If there is another way, a legitimate way within our customs, for the master to reclaim his apprentice, it is only right that we allow this opportunity.” He turned to Qui-Gon. “If the council approves, the challenge need not be to the death, only to the surrender by one man. If you lose, however, Maogg can claim both of you.”

“Thank you, Laregg, I will gladly take that chance,” replied Qui-Gon with a small, grateful smile. He turned to the chief. “If it be your will, and the will of your people, I wish to make this petition to the council.”

The chief looked around the room, noting the nodding heads and shouts of “Yes,” and “Let the Jedi petition.” He reluctantly turned back to Qui-Gon as the room quieted again. “Very well, Master Jinn. You may put your request forward. On your own head be the results.”

Qui-Gon nodded to acknowledge the chief’s acquiescence, then stepped forward and knelt before the four men and two women who sat on the front bench to the chief’s right. “I petition the council of the White Panther clan for permission to challenge Maogg for ownership of the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The room buzzed with conversation as the group conferred for several minutes. Obi-Wan’s thoughts were in turmoil again. He felt like he was being whipsawed between joy and anxiety. The new hope that Qui-Gon might have found a way to reclaim him was offset by the fear that they would both end up as ranshurr. Unable to affect the outcome, he could only observe helplessly. Meanwhile, both Qui-Gon and Maogg waited impassively for the council’s decision.

Finally a white-haired woman rose. “The council grants permission for the challenge. No weapons are allowed, it must be done immediately and the challenge ends when one man yields.”

“Thank you.” Qui-Gon immediately stood and turned to Maogg. “I challenge you for ownership of Obi-Wan Kenobi. If I win, Obi-Wan is mine. If I lose, both Obi-Wan and I will serve you as ranshurr, and I will help you find things to teach me to satisfy your honor. What say you, Maogg?”

Maogg looked at Obi-Wan for a moment, then took a very long look at Qui-Gon, appraising him. Finally a wolfish grin spread slowly across his face. “I accept your challenge, Master Jinn,” Maogg said, hands on his hips. “I look forward to a battle with such a worthy opponent.” The grin spread even wider. “I shall enjoy even more breaking you in for the Mother.”

Qui-Gon looked back calmly. “We shall see.”

The two combatants withdrew to opposite ends of the building to prepare as the center of the building was rapidly cleared, benches piled along the walls. The buzz and chatter of excitement reverberated in the air, tension rapidly building until it was almost visible.

Maogg was already wearing only pants and boots and needed only to remove his belt and boot knives. While they waited for Qui-Gon to finish his preparations, the clansman turned to Obi-Wan, whom he had brought with him. He pulled the young Jedi into a dark corner, away from the crowd.

“Strip.”

“Surely you’re not serious,” said Obi-Wan, glaring at Maogg.

“You still belong to me. I have been lenient because I know it has been very difficult for you, and because you helped save the chief’s son, but I will not tolerate any further disobedience or disrespect,” replied Maogg sternly. “I wish to show my people that you are a prize worth fighting for. Strip.”

“Yes, Mazhten,” said Obi-Wan. He still glared balefully at the clansman, but bit down hard on his tongue to keep from any further outbursts. He hated the idea of being paraded around naked in front of Qui-Gon and the clan, but hated even more the idea of being disciplined where his master might see him.

When the young Jedi was naked, Maogg knelt before him and locked a fine silver chain onto the ring set into the end of Obi-Wan’s penis. He loosened the base cock ring and began fondling the flaccid organ; when it was not sufficiently responsive he reached a hand between the apprentice’s legs and inserted a long digit into Obi-Wan’s anus to stimulate the prostate. Although he was grateful for the dark corner and for the fact that Maogg stood between him and the crowd, Obi-Wan was still burning with embarrassment both from the relatively public handling and the arousal he now displayed. Looking up, he saw Bavod watching them; Obi-Wan wanted to crawl out the door and hide but had to settle for closing his eyes. When Maogg was satisfied with the full erection, he tightened the cock ring, drawing a grunt from the young man.

Holding the end of the chain in his left hand, Maogg stepped forward into the light and gave an inarticulate roar. Satisfied that he had everyone’s attention, he began pacing around the perimeter of the cleared area, the tugging of the chain forcing Obi-Wan to follow. Twice around the perimeter they went, Maogg extolling the virtues of the prize, running a hand down his shoulder and across his abdomen to point out his muscles, tweaking a nipple and patting the bare buttocks with a leer, forcing the apprentice’s head up to point out his good looks and intelligence, while the crowd cheered or commented. It mattered little to Obi-Wan that the comments were admiring or pleased instead of crude and hateful; the whole experience was too reminiscent of being back in the prison. The sympathetic smile from Laregg as they passed made hardly a dent in the apprentice’s disgust and loathing.

Obi-Wan had never felt so totally exposed. It seemed his entire body blushed hot scarlet; he could feel the individual drops of sweat forming, then dripping, from his own heat. Every touch of Maogg’s hand was a searing brand across his naked skin. The smell of massed bodies and smoke clogged his nostrils; every word, every crackle of the fire, every jingle of the chain filled his ears. His mouth was dry as he sucked for air, the taste of bile bitter in the back of his throat. Every tug on the silver chain pulled painfully at his throbbing cock; he could feel every pebble and sharp rock under his bare feet, every stray breeze on his skin. Time seemed to have stopped, each step taking an eternity as Obi-Wan battled the fear that Maogg would decide to fondle him or fuck him in front of his master.

Qui-Gon was at one end of the circle in leggings and boots doing a few simple stretches; each time they passed him Obi-Wan cringed inwardly, the blush ratcheting even higher as he begged the Force to open a hole in the floor and drop him in it. He snatched furtive glances, but could not tell from Qui-Gon’s empty expression if his master was disgusted or angry. When they had finished two complete circuits, Maogg directed Obi-Wan to stand on a bench next to the chief and locked the loose end of the chain to the chief’s chair. He held the key up for all to see, waggled it at Qui-Gon with a challenging laugh, then with a flourish handed the key to the chief for safekeeping.

The crowd quieted as Jedi and clansman moved to the center of the cleared area. They bowed to the chief, turned to face each other and bowed again. At the chief’s signal, they dropped into a crouch and began warily circling. Both men were in excellent physical condition and well versed in unarmed combat skills; the first several minutes were spent in feints and seeking potential weaknesses. They glided smoothly about the circle, taking advantage of the full space as they began seriously engaging. Maogg was the active aggressor; Obi-Wan was reminded of the endless drills in the training salles when his master would emphasize letting opponents expend their energies on the attack while conserving his on defense.

Qui-Gon let the clansman force him around the circle; smoothly defending but rarely counterattacking unless he had a clear advantage. Maogg had the advantage of youth, strength and aggressiveness, but Qui-Gon’s patience and battle experience eventually began to frustrate the clansman. After twenty minutes both men were breathing heavily; Qui-Gon was bleeding from several scratches and the recent scar on his left shoulder had been partially reopened during a bone-crunching wrestling tussle. The crowd was quiet, awed and respectful of the exceptional battle being enacted before them.

Maogg began attacking Qui-Gon’s left side as the Jedi tried to hide an apparently weakened arm. It seemed that Maogg now had the advantage; with a swift move he had Qui-Gon locked in a wrestling hold and was twisting his right arm painfully. It was then that Qui-Gon exploded in a counterattack; he shifted around and with his supposedly weakened left arm slammed Maogg’s head back.

Both men jumped to their feet but Qui-Gon was suddenly relentless, hammering home blow after blow as he forced his rapidly weakening opponent around the circle. The crunching of bone preceded a gush of blood from a broken nose, a loose tooth was spat into the crowd, blood and sweat mixed freely.

Qui-Gon forced Maogg to the ground with a sweeping kick and was immediately on him, one knee grinding into the small of his back as he pulled the head back for a killing blow. For several seconds Qui-Gon held the position as the room stilled to silence. The silence stretched as Qui-Gon slowly pulled the head back further, an agonizing fraction of an inch at a time, bones cracking like shots, as the clansman desperately but futilely struggled. Finally Maogg slapped the ground with his free hand and croaked out through the stranglehold, “I yield.”

Qui-Gon immediately released the clansman as the room erupted in cheers and stamping feet. He helped Maogg to his feet and the two men embraced before staggering toward the chief. They stood with chests heaving, bloody sweat pouring down. Obi-Wan jumped down from the bench, cheering with the crowd, a huge grin on his face, almost radiating joy.

“Qui-Gon Jinn. . .has honorably bested me,” panted Maogg. “I yield. . .to the Jedi. . .Obi-Wan belongs to him.”

The chief rose and signaled for silence. “You have heard and witnessed. In fair combat, Maogg yields to Qui-Gon Jinn. Ownership of the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi is hereby transferred to Master Jinn.” There was more stamping of feet as the chief gave the key to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon bowed respectfully, held the key up, then ceremoniously began to unlock the chain.

“Thank you, Master,” whispered Obi-Wan happily, “I can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful I feel.”

“Hold that thought, Padawan,” whispered Qui-Gon dryly, still breathing heavily, as he finished unlocking the chain from the chief’s chair. “We’re not quite finished with local customs yet.”

“What?” asked Obi-Wan, confused.

The apprentice’s question was answered the next moment by a sudden tug on the chain as Qui-Gon led his apprentice around the room by the chain attached to his still painfully erect cock so that all could see and acknowledge the change of ownership.

~ Just a fucking minute, ~ Obi-Wan thought, his joy rapidly turning to anger, highly mortified at this turn of events under his new owner. ~ This is carrying local custom a little *too* far. ~

Finishing up before the chief and council, Qui-Gon bowed again and thanked them for their hospitality.

Obi-Wan finally noticed all of the people looking expectantly at him while Qui-Gon was speaking and a horrible thought occurred to the embarrassed apprentice. ~ Just how far is he going to take this local custom thing? ~ His stomach churned as he remembered that first day with Maogg.

~ Surely he wouldn’t go through with the milking? ~ Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon’s sweaty back, fervently wishing once more the collar was gone so he could reach out over their training bond. ~ Would he? ~

The apprentice swallowed hard and began a heartfelt prayer to the Force. ~ Please, not that. . . . ~ A panicky sweat began pouring down his face and once more he felt terribly exposed in his nakedness, imagining that everyone was staring at his hard cock trapped by the heavy ring circling its base.

Qui-Gon turned to address the entire gathering, shooting a sharp glance at his apprentice as if sensing his concerns despite the absence of their bond. “People of the White Panther clan, I wish to thank all of you for your graciousness, your help and your hospitality. One other thing I must also ask of you; understanding of the Jedi customs. I know that among the clans a new owner normally establishes his claim by milking his ranshurr –“

There was a wave of murmurs from the crowd.

Obi-Wan’s sphincter tightened, his heart racing as his hands clenched into white knuckled fists. ~ Please, not that, not here, not now. . . . ~

“I would ask you to understand that this is not the Jedi way. Among our people, this is a very private thing, for two people to be together in intimate union or sexual activity. I will be taking Obi-Wan back, to reaffirm our relationship before our council of elders. We are Master and Padawan again, and shall return to our normal relationship at home. In the name of the Jedi, I thank you again for all of your help. May the Mother’s blessing be on you.”

There was a moment of silence, then Obi-Wan breathed a huge sigh of relief as he saw a few heads begin nodding.

Maogg stepped up and proclaimed loudly, “That is fair.” He hugged Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. “May the Mother’s blessing go with you, my friends.” Laregg was right behind him, hugging the two men as a general wave of nods and assent swept the room.

The chief then indicating that the ceremonies were completed, the clan broke up, many coming by to congratulate the Jedi Master before they returned to their beds for the remainder of the night.

“Obi-Wan, take off the chain and cock ring. The collar and piercings will have to wait until later,” said Qui-Gon quietly, handing his apprentice the key. The master continued to answer his well-wishers as Obi-Wan quickly complied.

Maogg brought the apprentice’s clothes and Obi-Wan gratefully put on the leggings and boots. Laregg brought a basin of water and clean cloths so Obi-Wan could clean the worst of the sweat and blood from his Master.

“My father told me you will be leaving in the morning,” Laregg said quietly during the quick cleanup.

“Yes,” Qui-Gon replied. “We are both long overdue to return home, and we need to get to the spaceport to catch a flight off planet.”

“I wish you could have stayed longer, but I certainly understand the desire to return home,” replied Laregg with a wistful smile.

“You will need clothes for Obi-Wan for the trip. I will bespeak Nimaral on your behalf; I’m sure she will have something suitable from among our stores,” offered Maogg.

“Thank you, Maogg. That is most kind of you.” Qui-Gon picked up the heavy cockring from the floor where Obi-wan had thrown it. “I won’t need this, Maogg. It is yours if you wish.”

Maogg took the ring with an amused snort. “I will keep it as a reminder of the Mother’s gifts and lessons, Master Jinn. Her gifts, for sending Obi-Wan to me in our time of need,” he hugged the apprentice briefly once more, “and her lessons in not being so overconfident.” The clansman rubbed his sore neck ruefully.

They all laughed, although Obi-Wan’s was rather subdued, and went to get what sleep they could. Obi-Wan wrapped himself in a spare blanket and slept on the floor of Qui-Gon’s cubicle in the visitors quarters.

****************** ***************

The next day Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan rose early but found that most of the clan was already awake and finishing breakfast in the pre-dawn darkness. They packed their few belongings, then went to one of the communal dining areas to eat.

“Ah, there’s my Jedi,” Maogg called cheerily as he dropped two packages on the nearly deserted table. “Nimoral sends her greetings and hopes these travel clothes fit.” Laregg trailed behind quietly, a smile on his face.

Qui-Gon stood up and bowed. “Please send my greetings and thanks to Nimoral. I’m sure they will do fine and are much appreciated, as has been all the help you and your clan have provided.” He nudged his apprentice, who was single-mindedly scooping up sweetened porridge and stuffing fresh bread into his mouth between spoonfuls.

Hastily swallowing the last of his porridge, Obi-Wan wiped his sleeve across his mouth as he stood. “Yes, thank you for all the help.”

Maogg stepped forward to engulf the apprentice in a huge hug. Obi-Wan unthinkingly flinched back and started to retreat, but stopped at the hurt look that flashed across the clansman’s face. Stung by a wave of guilty remorse as he belatedly remembered the sacrifices that had been made on his behalf, Obi-Wan stopped and offered a tentative hug. Maogg’s face lit up again as he swept the apprentice up in a breath-robbing bear hug.

“You are welcome, my little Jedi,” Maogg beamed. “You know, with more training I could teach you to be a good hunter if you want to come back.”

“Uh, thank you, but I don’t think we’ll be coming back any time soon.”

“Ah, I see.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

“Obi-Wan, if you are finished, please take the extra clothing and add it to our packs. Then you can check to see if our mounts are ready,” Qui-Gon said quietly.

“Yes, Master, I’m finished.” Obi-Wan gathered the travel clothes, then hesitated.

“I really do appreciate getting out that prison, Maogg,” Obi-Wan said, looking down at the floor.

“You’re welcome,” Maogg replied. “I hope you have a safe journey.”

Obi-Wan nodded, paused for a quick hug with Laregg, then hurried out the door.

Laregg stepped up to hug Qui-Gon. “I am very grateful for the help you provided to get us out of the prison. I don’t think it could have been accomplished without your assistance.”

“Well, I did have a motive of my own,” Qui-Gon said with a smile. He turned to Maogg. “I know it was difficult for both of you, Maogg, but I too appreciate what you did to help keep my apprentice alive and get him out of that prison.”

“I did what was necessary.” Maogg sighed wistfully. “I like the boy very much, and took good care of him, but he doesn’t like me at all.” He shook his head. “Obi-Wan was very proud, very stubborn, and did not accept the Mother’s teachings. I’m sorry I had to hurt him so much to make him obey, but your ways are very strange to me. I don’t think either of us ever understood the other very well.”

“It was a difficult time for him, and, as you say, our ways are very different,” Qui-Gon said. “I’m simply glad that we were able to get all of you out of there alive.” He paused. “What will you do now that you are back? I know you let your wife go back to her own clan before you went into the prison.”

“I have my place in White Panther back, and the successful escape gives me much esteem as a warrior,” Maogg replied, a smile replacing his glum expression. “I have already had questions from several young men who wish to become hunters and warriors. I expect I will soon have several ranshurr offers to choose from, although it will be hard to replace Obi-Wan.” He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “I’ve also got my eye on Vanok’s oldest daughter, the tall blonde one who just finished her ranshurr service to the master weaver. I think she will be very happy to warm my bed this winter as my next wife.”

Laregg laughed and slapped his kinsman on the back. “I hear she has a temper that will keep more than your bed warm, my friend.”

“A spirited companion is always best. We will get along well,” Maogg replied with a complacent grin.

The three men made their way to the caves where the herds were housed. The two Jedi made their final farewells there before leaving to head south on a pair of borrowed ghiphnen. Their destination was a small spaceport which was used mostly by smugglers. One of the White Panther’s sister clans, the Red Sherdon, had contacts among the smugglers and had secured passage off the planet to a mid Rim planet where they could arrange passage back to Coruscant. Five long days of hard riding got them to the edge of a ragged town, where they gratefully handed off the ghiphnen to the clansman who had accompanied them.

For the next few weeks they slowly made their way from system to system. They carried on a seemingly normal relationship as master and padawan, maintaining a distant politeness. Beneath the pleasant facade, however, Obi-Wan was having difficulty dealing with several mixed emotions as well as some new feelings. The apprentice knew he should be grateful for his rescue, but he was having problems overcoming a lingering resentment over the way Qui-Gon had claimed him and shame for not trusting his master. Obi-Wan was even more troubled, though, when he found that he had developed an intense shyness both about his body and about speaking to his master after all that had happened to him. The physical contact that he had once craved was now uncomfortable, even incidental contact in cramped quarters causing him to shy away, leaving an unpleasant dirty feeling behind. Qui-Gon did not push the issue, merely reminding his apprentice that he would have to make a report to the Council when they got home. Eventually they finally found themselves wedged into a tiny cabin on a freighter bound for the capital planet. The padawan insisted that his master take possession of the single bunk while he voluntarily took the floor at night.

Although exceedingly happy to have seen the last of Junmek, Obi-Wan was still quiet and withdrawn as he tried to work through his confused feelings. He was not really sleeping well or meditating properly, but hoped those problems would go away once the Force dampening collar was finally off. A few days out from Coruscant, though, he had finally relaxed enough around his master that he felt comfortable enough to apologize for his actions at the clan gathering and to ask him some questions. Obi-Wan was sitting at the cabin’s small table, ostensibly working on his mission report, while Qui-Gon sat cross-legged on the bunk, not quite meditating but not quite dozing either.

“Master,” ventured Obi-Wan quietly.

Blue eyes slowly opened, focused on the young Jedi. “Yes, Padawan?”

“I, uh, wanted to apologize for some of the things I said and did at the clan camp,” Obi-Wan said diffidently. “I should have trusted you instead of accusing you of leaving me behind. I’m sorry, Master.”

“It’s alright, Padawan,” Qui-Gon replied with a small smile. “You were under a great deal of stress and we were not able to communicate with the bond being inaccessible. I wish I had been able to explain what I was going to try to do before Maogg took you away again. It might have saved you some unnecessary pain.”

“I’m not sure that would really have improved the situation very much, Master,” Obi-Wan replied with a rueful grin. “I felt bad enough when you did make that request to substitute yourself for me.” He shuddered briefly. “I think I was actually grateful to Maogg that he turned you down.” Obi-Wan felt a little better for being able to get his feelings and apology out in the open. “I’ve also never really thanked you properly for getting me out of that prison on Junmek, Master,” he continued. “I know it couldn’t have been easy, what with being wounded and then having to wait all that time.”

“You’re welcome, Padawan. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out sooner.” A shadow passed over his face. “The clan used to get fairly regular reports about what was happening to you and Maogg. I’m very sorry you had to go through all that.”

Neither man felt like elaborating on what ‘that’ had included. “It’s alright, Master. As Maogg used to tell me often enough, everything comes eventually at the right time.”

A smile briefly tugged at the Master’s lips. “Maogg was a good man in his own way; he risked a good deal going into that prison.”

“Yes, Master, I appreciate that.”

“He probably didn’t tell you, but Maogg talked to me just before we left. He apologized for some of the things he did while you were in prison and for not understanding why some of the things he took for granted seemed to upset you so much.”

“Different cultures, different ways,” shrugged Obi-Wan, not wanting to go down that path. “It will be alright.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a while as unspoken topics hung between them. Obi-Wan finally spoke. “It was rather decent of the Council to let you stay and work on rescuing me, Master.”

There was another silence. Obi-Wan looked up; Qui-Gon’s expression was of the ‘If I don’t say anything then it’s not really a lie’ variety.

“Master?” asked Obi-Wan anxiously. “They did let you stay, didn’t they?”

Qui-Gon’s gaze wandered around the room for a bit before he finally looked back at Obi-Wan and cleared his throat. “Well, not really.”

The apprentice continued to look at his master expectantly, not settling for the bare answer.

The master somewhat reluctantly continued. “Padawan, I was the senior Jedi on the mission. There were two other knights and seven very young children who had to get back to Coruscant. I protested, but the Council ordered me to get them off Junmek and leave you behind; they said they would try to send someone back later for you. Once everyone was aboard the ship, we lifted off. After the ship was safely away, however, I took an escape pod and came back.” Qui-Gon paused and sighed. He looked at Obi-Wan with a half smile. “Technically, I obeyed the orders as they were worded, but I expect the Council will not be pleased with me when we get back. There were also a few messages that came in through the, shall we say, less orthodox channels, ordering me in no uncertain terms to get my miserable self back to Coruscant. I am very much afraid that your master is getting old and senile, Padawan, as it seems I must have forgotten to answer any of the messages.”

Obi-Wan smiled at the mock mournful expression on Qui-Gon’s face and shook his head. “Indeed, Master, it is a terrible thing to see the wasting away of a once formidable intellect. I suspect, however, what’s left of your mind will match nicely what little will be left of your ass after the Council gets done ripping large strips off of it.”

That actually drew a chuckle from Qui-Gon and helped ease some of the strain between them.

“There is something else I wanted to ask, Master.”

“Of course, Padawan, if you think I’m up to answering it.”

“Yes, Master,” said Obi-Wan with another smile. It did feel good to start getting back to their old relationship again. “Actually, I was wondering about the lightsabers. The warden had both and they were in very bad shape. I had nightmares because of those Sithdamned things; it was what convinced me you were dead. But then later you showed up at the prison with a light blue one. I don’t understand what happened.”

“Ah, yes, the lightsabers. Obviously I had my own lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“After you were first captured, I was able to get into the area where they had stored your lightsaber, but while I was trying to get to you I must have set off some of the Force monitors they had planted all over that part of the building.”

“Yes, Master. The warden had boasted about the expense they went to in obtaining such a large quantity of monitors.”

“I’m sure he was pleased that his investment paid off,” said Qui-Gon dryly. “I fought my way out to the courtyard and was almost to the outer exit when they started using grenades. I was already wounded; there were several I was not able to fully divert. I decided to make a run for the river so I shed cloak, tunic and boots; during all the chaos I lost both lightsabers. It was a very near thing, and very fortunate that I was able to make it far enough from town to find the White Panther scouting party.”

“But what about the other lightsaber, Master?”

“It is a very curious thing about that other lightsaber, Padawan. It is actually Knight Ghuthiin’s weapon.”

“Quiet, fussy little ‘don’t make waves’ Knight Ghuthiin? He made it clear the whole trip that he didn’t like you, the ‘infamous Jedi Master’,” Obi-Wan did his best squeaky disdainful look-down-the-nose imitation of the knight.

“Yes, that Knight Ghuthiin,” Qui-Gon said with a smile. “You shouldn’t underestimate him, though. He did make it back to the ship with all four infants after you were taken. Underneath the layers of pedantic mindwashing, he is actually quite dedicated to the Force and has had several episodes of accurate prescience.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan subsided. “But how did you end up with Knight Guthiin’s lightsaber?”

“He found me when I was preparing the escape pod to leave. I wasn’t at all certain of why he was there; we actually stood there looking at each other for several minutes like one of those ridiculous scenes from a bad holovid. Finally he gave me a lecture about how I was a bad influence on the younger Jedi with all my ‘dramatic mucking about’ and defying of the Council, I was going to be in a lot of trouble and he didn’t like me in the first place. Then he unhooked his lightsaber and handed it to me, saying he didn’t like it, but he had had a vision that I would need it and the Force required him to do it.” Qui-Gon gave a small snort. “After that he practically ran out of the room as if I were about to infect him with some horrible disease and I proceeded with my escape. When I landed back on Junmek, I hid the extra lightsaber and was able to go back later and recover it after the other two were lost.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I guess it just goes to show that the Force does indeed work in some pretty mysterious ways.”

Qui-Gon smiled, “Or that the Mother bestows her gifts as she will.”

The allusion caught Obi-Wan unaware and he drew back within himself, the temporary familiarity lost again. He looked at Qui-Gon for a moment, eyes blank, then with a formal “Yes, Master,” he turned back to his report. Hunched over the datapad, he missed the thoughtful look of concern on Qui-Gon’s face.

The rest of the return voyage passed quietly. Qui-Gon finished his report early and transmitted it to the Temple, but Obi-Wan was still struggling with his until the day they landed. He finally just decided to gloss over certain aspects and sent it off with the forlorn hope that he wouldn’t be asked too many questions.

********************** END PART ONE of TWO *************************