Star Wars: Jedi Adventures
Chapter 4
Rating: R

Bethany Handcuff

Author's notes: This is the third story I have written about the Jedi. Although this is a stand alone story, please read Star Wars: Jedi Tahiri in Bondage and Star Wars Jedi Tahiri & Alema Rar. Also, if you like this story, please leave me feedback, public or through email. (ahandcuffgirl at yahoo dot com)

They made it to the belter's shop without incident. There was no advertisement, or any kind of sign in front. Just a plain wooden door, about a dozen meters down an alley. Kazzok banged loudly on the door, which Alema Rar knew was the Trandoshan equivalent of knocking politely. A small slot opened at human eye level. A Rodian asked him for the password. Kazzok replied by passing him a credit chip. It wasn't a bribe, it was the password. A credit chip with exactly twenty-one credits and four point seven decicreds proved that someone legitimate had sent you.

The shop was full of various components for chastity belts, from nerfhide, to synthrubber, to polished durasteel. Most were sitting on shelves, or hanging on the wall in what looked to Alema Rar to be no particular order. One section of the shop stood out in contrast though. It was well organized, and the belts were made of some sort of black durasteel. The owner also had a full fledged fabricating operation going, with shackles, collars, and other restraint devices and pieces of devices lying around. Alema Rar knew that she would be getting one of the black belts.

A middle aged human man was in charge, with a skinny human male about twenty assisting him. The Rodian seemed to be security. Kazzok told the older man that he wanted a standard belt, with a vaginal rod, for his slave, Alei'na.

“Is it an official belt?” the human asked.

“Yes, I plan on selling her,” Kazzok replied, eying the Rodian.

Kazzok released the binders, and the assistant quickly stripped Alema Rar naked while his boss and Kazzok finalized the agreement. Kazzok paid him from one of Karrde's untraceable accounts. Alema Rar patiently waited, as any good slave should.

The assistant whistled as he admired her supple body, then began an enthusiastic search of the Twi'lek, which was easy considering that she was naked. Alema Rar even bent over obediently and spread her butt-cheeks apart when he ordered her to. Then she meekly allowed him to insert a finger into her ass. He shoved it in as deep as he could, and spent at least half-a-minute wiggling it around, searching. His free hand reached around to grope her tit.

Alema Rar let the Force flow through her as he pulled his finger out, and for a few more seconds until he dropped his other hand away. It was mildly arousing, reminding her of some foreplay that she had done with a security officer. Well, with a few dozen security officers. Mostly at different times. As she passively awaited the next command, she made a mental note to hunt up a couple of security officers when this mission was over.

The human leered as he reached for her pussy. She concentrated on his mind as his fingers brushed her snatch. The Rodian was watching Kazzok, and the older man keying something into his computer terminal. As he pulled his hand away, she could feel his satisfaction on a job well done.

Alema Rar knew that she would be searched much more thoroughly several more times before her mission was complete.

“You finished searching her?” the older man asked.

“Yep, clean as a Kuati Princess,” the assistant replied.

“Good, let's get this little slave girl belted.”

The two men expertly put the pieces of the chastity belt into place. Kazzok and the Rodian continued watching each other. Alema Rar stayed as still as a meditating Jedi. She could feel the Humans' thoughts as they began laser welding the seams of the belt together. Only when the older man shut down the laser torch did Alema Rar begin to ease off the Force.

The chastity belt was almost like the harness that she had worn on Spraikela. A wide durasteel belt went around her waist. Another wide strap went down the front, narrowing to go between her legs, and up behind her, connecting with the belt just over the crack of her ass. A slick synthetic liner coated the inside, since she would be wearing it for a long time, possibly forever. A bar code was discreetly etched into the back of the belt. It was very comfortable, even with the hard rod filling her pussy.

Kazzok ordered his Twi'lek slave to put her dress back on, and secured her wrists with the binders. With a nod to the shop owner and a dangerous look to the Rodian, he led her away.

Once they were safely in the alley Alema Rar made sure that the humans and Rodian wouldn't quite remember them. She had to do it quickly, as Kazzok set a fast pace for the small Twi'lek. She could feel the shaft shifting as she walked, making her horny. Damn, this is going to be a loonnng mission, Alema Rar thought as she tapped her fingers over the impenetrable durasteel shield.

* * * * *

Kazzok led her to an air-bus for the trip to Darb's ship, which was waiting at another spaceport a couple of hundred kilometers away. They got quite a few stares, but everyone seemed to mind their own business. While slavery was technically illegal on Gall, she knew that the law was seldom enforced. Alema Rar felt lucky to have such a big, strong Trandoshan leading her there. Gall was a rough place, full of all sorts of vile scum. Without him, well, she'd probably have to hurt someone.

Alema Rar got her first look at the slaver Darb when they enter his ship's berth. A little under two meters tall, a little overweight, but with muscle underneath. The Jedi could tell that he had an obvious mean streak about him. Just the kind of person that she would go out of her way to set up. But this time she had bigger Hutts to slice.

“This her?” Darb asked, looking Alema Rar up and down.

“Why else would I bring her to you on a leash?” Kazzok replied. “Because she's some kind of freak who likes it?”

Freak? He was the one using me to organize his tools, Alema Rar thought.

“Whatever. Shall we finish this on board my ship, in private?”

With a nod Kazzok followed him, with one hand gripping Alema Rar's leash and the other on his repeater rifle.

On board Kazzok unlocked the binders from Alema Rar's wrists and Darb ordered her to strip.

“You had her belted I see,” Darb commented. He made a twirling motion with his finger, and Alema Rar slowly turned around. When she was facing away from the two of them she felt him stop her with a hand on her back. Like a good slave, she waited quietly and calmly for him to finish his inspection. “Today,” he announced as he read the date underneath the bar code.

Alema Rar was spared the humiliation of being negotiated over on the spot. That had been done in advance. While she was left staring at the bulkhead, Darb paid Kazzok the paltry sum they had agreed upon. Since Kazzok supposedly didn't want his boss, Talon Karrde, to know that he was doing some slave running on the side, he took much less than a prime dancing Twi'lek slave girl was worth. Alema Rar felt the Trandoshan's warm scales on her neck as he removed 'his' collar. Then the Jedi sensed him backing down the ramp. A cool breeze hit her neck as she heard the hatch close, leaving her alone.

Two other members of the crew appeared from around a corner, a human female that looked to be in her forties and a middle-aged Devaronian. Both were short and stocky, and neither looked very appealing. Alema Rar caught a glimpse of dull silver durasteel in the woman's hand. The Twi'lek had to fight to ignore her danger sense as the woman silently placed the slave collar around her throat and locked it shut.

The collar was heavy! It weighed nearly two kilograms. The huge piece of durasteel settled uncomfortably on the base of her slender neck.

“I'm going to show you this once, Alei'na,” Darb said to her. Even though she was still facing the wall, Alema Rar sense that something bad was about to happen. However, since she was playing the part of a helpless slave, the Jedi stayed motionless.

The pain came not from a stun-baton or whip, but from the collar. While it wasn't as painful as the power whip she had been abused with on Spraikela, it was painful enough. Alema Rar howled in agony as she fell to the deck.

Playing the part, she tugged vainly against the collar as she wept. Darb stepped close, towering over her. “That was level one. Disobey once and you will feel it again. Disobey twice and you'll feel level two, which is twice as bad. Try and escape, or attack me or one of my crew, and you'll feel level five, understand?”

“Yes Master,” Alema Rar replied between sobs.

“Now, Schliebak would be mad if I delivered you to him injured, or dead. But he'd would be furious if I started letting slaves escape, not to mention the beating my professional pride would take.”

That didn't seem to warrant a response, so she stayed silent on the deck.

“Process her, and make sure you search her good,” Darb told his crew members. “I don't trust anything that has to do with Talon Karrde.”

The Devaronian produced a pole about a meter and a half in length. He touched the collar with one end, and Alema Rar felt the magnets snap together.

“Let's go, Twi'lek,” he commanded her, lifting her to her feet with the pole.

* * * * *

The freighter had its own version of a prison processing facility. There did seem to be more shackles and straps than the prisons that Alema Rar had seen, though.

She was led underneath two of the shackles that were hanging from the ceiling, separated by a metal bar about half-a-meter long. The Devaronian lifted her right hand over her head as the woman lifted the left one, and they locked the shackles onto her wrists. Then they both knelt, and after moving her feet about a meter apart, locked another pair of shackles around her ankles.

The lead pole was removed and set against the wall near the doorway. Her ankles were spread far enough apart to cause discomfort, but not pain. At least not yet anyway. The woman opened a drawer and pulled a piece of black plastoid out. Alema Rar recognized it as a mouth spreader.

The Devaronian pressed a button on the wall, and Alema Rar's wrists were pulled higher, tight against the ankle shackles attached to the floor. Now the bound Jedi had virtually no slack in her chains.

“Open wide,” the woman commanded Alema Rar as she approached her.

Since she didn't seem to have a choice, and this was part of the plan, Alema Rar opened her mouth and awaited the spreader. The heavy-set woman pushed the device in, and spread the Twi'lek's mouth open wide, locking it into place.

Meanwhile the Devaronian hopped up and sat on a work bench against a wall. The woman lightly smacked Alema Rar on the face, then walked over and casually leaned against an exam table, ignoring her. The two slavers spent the next several minutes chatting about a popular weekly holodrama.

The Twi'lek would have loved to join in, being a fan herself, but the uncomfortable spreader rendered coherent speech impossible. She felt drool running uncontrollably out of her mouth and onto the deck. There was nothing that she could do about the drool, but Alema Rar hoped that Schliebak's scum wouldn't ruin any of the new episodes, since she had Tahiri recording them for her.

With the collar on, Alema Rar couldn't see how big the puddle of drool was on the deck, but by experience she knew it was a good one. With the Force she started slowly sliding the drool towards the Devaronian, since he was closer and sitting on the work bench. She worked as much drool out of her mouth as possible, while trying to make the stream on the deck look natural. Fortunately the two slavers seemed to be wasting plenty of time in idle conversation while their helpless captive hung in the shackles.

The helpless captive found a good use for the extra time, making a sizable puddle underneath the Devaronian's feet, right where he should land when he hopped off the bench. They took so long chatting that Alema Rar finished the puddle, and started trying unsuccessfully to swallow some of the drool running down her chin. Meanwhile, the woman pulled a thin synthrubber glove onto one hand.

After just long enough for Alema Rar to start getting really impatient, the woman came back over with a small hand light and thoroughly searched her mouth. When she reached in to move the Twi'lek's tongue out of the way, Alema Rar got a nasty surprise.

Nasty being the operative word. The glove was coated with a sticky, disgusting substance that made her tongue stick to the glove. It made it almost impossible to pull her tongue out of the glove's grip. Alema Rar was helpless as the fat woman shifted her poor little tongue from side to side and up and down. She even pulled her tongue forward, forcing Alema Rar's neck to pull against her collar, nearly choking herself to stop the pain.

Finally the woman let go, and pulled off the glove with both slavers laughing. The disgusting taste stayed in Alema Rar's mouth. With the cuffs and spreader gag, she couldn't even try to wipe it away.

The woman tossed the used glove into a waste receptacle, and returned with a hand-held scanner, which she proceeded to slowly run over Alema Rar's shackled body, starting at the top of her head. When she came to Alema Rar's pussy, she slowed down even more, then looked at her partner.

“Hey, did this slave's belt have a cunt rod?” she asked him.

Alema Rar saw him pull a small datapad out of a pocket on his chest. “Yep. A big one too, twenty one centimeters,” he added.

“Must be a different model, it's not scanning as dense as most of them,” the woman replied.

“Well, unless you want to pay to cut the belt off her to check it out . . .”

With a snort the woman continued the scan, all the way down to her feet, then up the back of her legs to her head. Just as methodically, she scanned each side of Alema Rar's body. It went exactly as she had expected.

The Jedi allowed herself a small smile around the mouth spreader as the woman shut the scanner down and put it back in the drawer. Alema Rar sensed a change in the Devaronian's thoughts a second before he hopped down off the bench. She watched with glee as his feet flew out from underneath him.

He half caught himself on the bench, but still landed on his butt: hard. “Sithspit!” he swore as he looked down at the deck. After a moment he realized what he had slipped on. The woman had realized it too. The Devaronian stared at the helpless slave with fury while the woman laughed at him. He picked up a small remote that had fallen out of his hand when he fell. Alema Rar guessed that it was the remote for her collar.

For the barest of moments, Alema Rar wondered if the stunt with her drool was worth it. It didn't help the mission at all, and if there were many more question marks like that, then Schliebak might wonder if one of his slaves was more then she seemed. Oh well, I'll just have to worry about that later. It was too much fun watching him fall on his ass. She prepared herself with the Force for what was about to happen.

Then the shock from the collar hit her. Since she was still shackled to the ceiling and floor, Alema Rar stayed upright, screaming in half-agony. At least she tried to scream. The mouth spreader made it sound like the incoherent howls of a wild animal caught in a trap. After several seconds the shock stopped and Alema Rar hung limp in her chains.

The Devaronian was still squeezing the remote, hard.

“That's why they put a cut-off on those,” the woman said, still laughing. “Schliebak would skin you if you messed her up just because of your own clumsiness.”

“Sithspit,” he replied as he relaxed his grip on the remote. “Frakk off,” he added as he carefully climbed to his feet.

Meanwhile the woman had produced another scanner, and was running it over Alema Rar's chest and head. “Well, at least you didn't fry the poor slave,” she said to her companion.

He gave her a contemptuous look as he stepped away from the puddle on the deck.

“It's not like it's her fault for drooling all over the place. You should have been more careful,” the slaver added as she shut off the scanner.

“Sithspit, she was a meter and a half away. There's no way she could've drooled all the way over there,” he replied.

The woman looked at the drool underneath Alema Rar, and followed it to the second puddle by the bench. “Well, it's weird, but it happened,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Let's get her to her quarters.”

Alema Rar listened to the exchange while pretending to still be dazed from the prolonged shock. She wondered about the 'quarters.' She had expected a large cell, with dozens or more other slaves. Guess I'm gonna find out, she thought as the Devaronian lowered her shackles to just over her head.

The woman released her ankles from their bounds and then they both freed the Twi'lek's hands. Alema Rar stumbled, making the Devaronian support her weight as the woman pulled her arms behind her back and snapped a set of binders onto her wrists. Both half-held her while they walked her out of the processing room. On the way out, the woman grabbed the leash pole that was leaning against the wall, although to Alema Rar's mild surprise, she didn't use it.

The trio walked through two clear plexisteel doors and into the 'quarters.' It was about what Alema Rar had been expecting. About two dozen female slaves, mostly humans and Twi'leks. About half as many bunks against the walls. All the slaves were wearing stun collars and black durasteel chastity belts like her own.

The despair and utter hopelessness of twenty-something beings pressed in on her. Suddenly Alema Rar was years in the past. Growing up, she had been mostly kept separate from the common slaves, but on occasion she had been near them. The feelings that the young Jedi had felt from them had helped develop her abhorrence of slavery.

The slaves eyed the newcomer with looks ranging from mild interest to pity, and a few with lust. Alema Rar felt the Devaronian remove the binders from her wrists. “Don't cause problems,” the woman said with scorn as the two slavers left, locking both doors behind them.

Alema Rar surveyed her new surroundings. It seemed clean enough, and not a crowded as some of the places she had been forced to occupy. It took some concentration to block her fellow slaves' combined despair with the Force. The collars that the slaves were wearing all had large black numbers on each side. Since there wasn't a mirror around, Alema Rar could only assume that her collar had them as well.

None of the other women seemed to be interested in conversation, which was fine with her. Someone pointed her towards a closet, which had a selection of short silk tops. Since it was all anybody else seemed to be wearing, besides the chastity belts and collars, Alema Rar found the smallest one and pulled it on. Her nipples were pressed in, and plainly visible. The top came down a few centimeters past her tits. Alema Rar also found a stack of sleeping mats on the floor in the closet. She pulled out the cleanest-looking one and found an empty spot on the floor.

As a Jedi, Alema Rar was capable of sitting, standing, or holding just about any position, for long periods of time. Among the slaves, though, she was careful not to stay to still. She mostly lay down on her back, but shifted position a lot, giving the impression of being restless, or nervous, and trying to hide it. This was also for the benefit of whomever was monitoring the holocams she sensed in the ceiling and walls.

Food was brought by a pair of slaves, overseen by the woman who had searched Alema Rar. Several of Alema Rar's roommates thanked the slaves by name, so she guessed that they had been on board long enough to develop a routine. The Jedi filed this information away, although she didn't know how or if she would use it.

After dinner a few of the slaves had hush conversations, which Alema Rar felt no urging from the Force to listen to. Each of the slaves took turns using the refresher. Alema Rar was surprised that none of the other slaves needed help using it with their chastity belts. When her own turn came, it was as tricky as she remembered it. Maybe they're just afraid to ask, she thought as she settled back down. A few of the slaves shared bunks, or mats. Alema Rar briefly wondered how they decided who got the bunks, but didn't care enough to find out.

The faint thrum of the engines vibrated the durasteel shaft trapped inside Alema Rar's pussy just enough to get her going. Personal experience had proven that it was nearly impossible for her to cum with a chastity belt on, even with the Force, so the Jedi spent her time meditating until she calmed down, then took a short Force nap after the other slaves were all asleep.

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