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Obi-Wan followed Dominant Sidonis down the street, head down, status collar firmly clasped around his neck, and weighted plug no doubt making his gait blatantly awkward.
He was currently in day one of the training phase of his yearlong assignment to the secretive world of Maso. When he’d first heard of the mission specs, and what would be required from whichever Jedi volunteered… (And volunteer was the keyword. The council refused to order anyone to take this assignment.) Well, between his preferred sexual proclivities, and his status as a healthy and very sexually active Stewjoni, Obi-Wan put his name down for the potential candidates’ roster as a matter of course.
“Next item on the agenda. Volunteer we need.”
“Yes.” Master Windu agreed, “It would be immoral to ask this mission of someone less than willing.”
Obi-Wan had been taken aback by the other councilmember’s reticence, until he glanced down at the full briefing on his datapad. It had been all he could do to stave off an embarrassing bodily reaction as he read the preferred list of… attributes required from the jedi who’d go on this mission:
- Humanoid, human or near-human for preference given the predominant culture’s negotiation methods required a certain degree of… physical compatibility with the local population.
- Sexually promiscuous, and willing to bed virtual strangers.
- Inclination to be… humiliated publicly in the course of required sexual activities, which would include but not be limited to being the receiving partner in any couplings.
- Amenable to non-permanent corporal punishment during sex.
- Available to remain on world on Maso for a full Core-rotation.
Obi-Wan, quashing the sudden wave of intense arousal he'd been feeling, put his name down for the list of potential volunteers in that meeting with embarrassing alacrity. Earning himself teasing nudges and sly grins from Kit and Depa in the force as he did so. Even Master Plo looked amused behind his breather.
He hadn’t quite expected to be the Jedi chosen by the senate for the delicate task of being the Republic’s representative in negotiations with Maso for membership. But perhaps Obi-Wan should have, given his status as the youngest High Councilmember, his infamy as the Negotiator, and Maso’s desire to see the Republic ritually brought low to prove their willingness to bend. (…and Bail’s intimate knowledge of his tastes.)
The population of Maso was mostly human and near humans. A colony of zeltrons and humans disappeared at the edge of the Unknown Regions millennia ago, and their world had only recently been rediscovered. By Palpatine of all people.
The Sith Lord’s interest in the planet was still unclear, Maso wasn’t drenched in darkness the same way many Sith worlds like Korriban, Malachor, or even Dromund Kaas had been. And whilst the social mores of this world were decidedly unusual by Core standards, they’d yet to encounter anyone that seemed distressed by their chosen role in society.
Darth Sidious’s innumerable secrets were made public in the aftermath of the war; this world on the far side of the region of the galaxy once occupied by the Sith Empire of old, was only one of many to emerge. The Jedi Order needed to discover what Palpatine found so interesting about Maso that he’d kept it from the rest of the galaxy. They didn’t need another Kamino on their hands. Light of their lives as the Clones had proven to be, the horrible information on the chips that had been discovered, the possibilities were too much to bear.
Obi-Wan shivered as he clenched up around the plug, as he mused over the incredibly thorough preliminary contract that both he, Master Windu, as the Master of the Order, and Bail, as the Chancellor of the Republic had signed and witnessed… He couldn’t help but feel he’d been a little hasty to sign himself up for this job.
Obi-Wan was still in the acclimation phase of his role as Republic Ambassador. However, as the twinge from his prostate reminded him as he followed the Dominant in charge of him, that didn’t mean what most beings would assume.
The process of preparing for his role here had been thorough, and altogether uncomfortably sensual, given the impersonal nature of how he’d been treated. A kindly Zeltron woman had taken him through the questionnaire for the umpteenth time the night before. His ‘special’ circumstances had been described in great detail to his new handler, Sidonis, in that he had mandatory ‘dance’ exercises to complete each morning, on top of the standard submissive’s warmup stretches. (Dancing being the most feasible explanation they could come up with to allow him to discreetly maintain his physical fitness as a jedi for the duration.)
Obi-Wan breathed out harshly through his nose and considered, pushing through the low haze of arousal that had been so very distracting ever since he'd allowed Sidonis to open him up, and push the plug into his ass before they'd left the submissive's Training Centre. He’d happily signed himself up for this aspect of his role here. Obi-Wan had been honest when he’d answered the very thorough questionnaire all the potential volunteers filled out – the idea of thorough objectification had been, intriguing. Especially after years in the unwanted role of the Negotiator, trapped on a pedestal, caught in the propaganda machine Palpatine almost used to destroy the Republic from within.
They were still undoing the damage the odious man wrought with his so-called emergency powers, with the aide of cronies like Isard, constructing a secret police state, spying on Republic citizens, and undermining basic freedoms galaxy wide.
He’d perhaps been too eager to sign himself up for this little break from his other duties. But he’d been exhausted. Restoring a democracy at times felt more difficult than undermining it. Even with a politician as honourable as Bail Organa leading the charge. (And smirking suggestively at him from across the negotiation room table, igniting heated sense memories of several pleasant evenings spent in his and Breha’s clutches.)
For the first month negotiations with the Maso peoples had been relatively genteel. A small party of Republic officials, including Mon Mothma, and a handful of lawmakers had been allowed to backup the Jedi representatives during the opening salvos. Mace and Yoda had been the Jedi representatives there to witness the official hand-over of ‘custody’ of Obi-Wan’s contract to the Maso. Already signs of the culture to come were visible all over the place, the Maso officials and dignitaries made no attempt to hide their practices from their Republic counterparts.
At times Obi-Wan caught stunned lustful shock radiating from his non-Jedi allies, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. (Similarly, Obi-Wan had been somewhat unsuccessful in hiding his interest from his fellow Jedi, to no little amount of teasing from the old troll.) Collared individuals, scantily clad, were dotted around. Acting as servants, aides, and, reassuringly, acting as high-ranked officials. However, there were alcoves dotted around at regular intervals too, with beings… restrained within them. There were cages in public spaces, other beings were being walked around on leashes as if they were pets, and still more paraded around completely naked.
The initial month of negotiation, and inspection, to ensure that no one was being mistreated had been somewhat fraught despite all the proof of sincerity from both parties. Even with the force whispering that all was well, the cultural differences were so far beyond what any of them expected to see outside of, say a particularly exclusive club, that it had taken Yoda vanishing off on his own for several days, only to come back cackling to himself before Mace finally calmed down enough to agree to sign Obi-Wan over to Maso’s care for the year.
Even then Bail sharply interjected during the contract’s hashing out.
“The Republic would never agree to anything that would permanently affect his well-being, or his abilities to function as a Jedi or a person. If you would demand such a thing of us, then frankly, we’d prefer to cease all negotiations, and perhaps even be willing to go to war to rescue your citizens from an unjust caste system.”
Bail’s politician’s smile turned sharklike. “Now they’ve had a few months to settle into the idea of personhood, the clones have been looking for something else to do, beyond helping the Agricorps repair whole biospheres…”
What followed were several dozen sets of reassurances as all parties reconfirmed what they meant by the definition of several legal terms.
Obi-Wan had agreed to anonymously become a member of the submissive class. Those beings who agreed to temporarily sign over their rights to the greater Maso culture. In exchange for a comfortable income, room and board, and… training for the duration.
It was like something out of a holosmut film. A bad one at that.
Mace would be the primary Republic representative dealing with the negotiations from here on out, living on-world for the year, just as Obi-Wan would. Only he would take on the role of one overseeing the submissives, a Dominant.
Once a week they’d be allowed to meet up to compare notes, and for Obi-Wan to add his piece to the negotiation table. The implication there being, that Obi-Wan would be in those meetings in his newfound role as a submissive, with all the rules that entailed.
(Obi-Wan was both looking forward to and dreading Mace's reaction next week. He was well aware of his own preferences, having played 'servant' to Bail and Breha's royalty a few times, but he wasn't sure of his fellow Master's.)
With a flash of bitter humour, Obi-Wan considered that Anakin would probably have an aneurysm if he knew just what his old master and the Master of the Order were getting up to in the course of these talks. In the messy aftermath of Palpatine’s death and the Clone Wars grinding to an ignominious end, Anakin quit the order in disgust -- releasing a morass of misinformation and misapprehensions his ex-Padawan seemingly held about the Order as he stormed out.
Anakin’s angry message to the holonet at large had been filled with baseless accusations about the Jedi way of life, not least of which was the puzzling idea that Jedi had to be celibate and foreswear having children.
Obi-Wan still couldn’t fathom where the young man had gotten that idea from, given that Ki-Adi Mundi, infamous High Council member, had seven wives and several sets of children with each of them. Or the fact that Kit Fisto, another High Council member, regularly returned to Glee Anselm, to join in on the seasonal spawning members of his species carried out on his home world. (There were news bulletins every season, so his fellow Nautolans who wished for a chance to spawn with the popular master could find the correct bay.) Those masters had already spoken up publicly. The holonet these days was practically wall to wall softcore Jedi pornography, as more of the Republic population came to view them as individual beings with wants and needs, the same as everyone else. Corps members, Knights, and Masters alike were reporting an uptick in friendly interactions with the locals.
If anything, with his blatant delusions about the Jedi made so very public, Anakin had accidentally done them all a massive favour. None of them had fully understood just how poorly regarded their tiny, vulnerable, population had become. Even before the war, and Palpatine’s machinations. With their sexual exploits being a point of daily discussion in the newsfeeds these days, alongside the exploits of politicians and actors, people were beginning to view the Jedi as sentient beings with the same rights and needs as everyone else. Anakin still hadn’t returned any of his messages, months later, despite the discourse not going away. Obi-Wan mentally shoved aside the hurt, promising himself that he’d examine it later, when he was in a better frame of mind to focus on anything.
The maddening pressure of the plug in his ass, as he was expected to parade along this busy street in an office distract was exciting enough to keep Obi-Wan's thoughts wandering all over the place, preventing true contemplation. He'd played discretely in kink-safe spaces in the past, but never quite so publicly before. However, even with the thrum of anticipation sizzling through his veins, the need to keep his head down and follow at Sidonis’s heels was boring enough to keep him spiralling back towards unpleasant topics.
Apparently, his role as a contracted submissive was a show of good faith on Maso’s part too; allowing outsiders in, to make sure first-hand that no one was being maltreated within the system was a first for the planet. That one of the outsiders would in turn allow themselves to become a submissive, was a good faith move on the Republic’s part.
It had seemed like a fine idea at the time.
Though Obi-Wan had to concede, he was growing more unsure of how he’d cope with a whole year of similar treatment. Much as he was enjoying the anticipation fluttering in his stomach, he hadn’t expected his job to be so boring. He was rather literally reduced to following along like obedient chattel.
Once the initial negotiations and contract had been dealt with, the Senator who’d accompanied them, Mon Mothma, her numerous aides, and Master Yoda all departed, leaving Obi-Wan and Mace to the actual meat of the negotiations. (With the tacit understanding that they’d investigate whatever Palpatine wanted with this world.)
The first step to becoming another cog in the machine had been to alter his appearance. Gone was the signature beard and neat haircut of the Negotiator. Exposing Obi-Wan’s chin and jawline to fresh air for the first time in years.
Master Windu had been visibly taken aback when he saw Obi-Wan clean shaven, and buzz-cut. Despite having been there for the whole unpleasant process of transforming into Hardeen. Though he supposed the Hardeen affair barely counted, since it had hardly been his own face he was wearing.
Obi-Wan had been rather pleased with the change in look himself. He'd been meaning to change things up for a while now, and whilst he wouldn't necessarily have considered cutting his hair quite this short without the hints that it might make his life easier for the time being, he'd been pleased with the outcome. It had been quite a while since he'd put much thought into his own appearance, beyond how recognisable he'd look for the propaganda posters.
When Obi-Wan glanced at him quizzically, before he’d been gently led away to his new life for the foreseeable future, the older jedi had answered,
“I sometimes forget how very young you are Master Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan folded away his jedi robes and lightsaber, donned the plain shift and shorts that signified his status as a trainee. Unbothered by his public nudity in a room full of dignitaries.
“Master Windu.” Obi-Wan had handed over his folded clothes and lightsaber and bowed.
“Obi-Wan.” The Korun Master returned, sounding fond, before accepting the bundle.
“I shall guard these with my life.”
“Thank you, Master Windu.”
“No, thank you Master Kenobi. May the force be with you.”
“I’ll see you in a week Master.” Obi-Wan replied firmly. Ignoring the worry flashing in the other man’s eyes.
This first week was supposed to be a gentle introduction to his new status on Maso as a submissive. The rest of the day had been spent reiterating the ground rules of the behaviour both expected from him, and his rights as a member of the class. Obi-Wan had spent a few hours in embarrassed but fun discussions about precisely what he could expect to happen. His low-grade but obvious arousal earning him some knowing looks as he'd hashed out a few things that were firmly off-limits, things he'd possibly be willing to give a go, with enough explanation and prep work, and activities that earned an enthusiastic green light. Obi-Wan might have gotten a little carried away with himself. He wasn’t even allowed to cum without permission, Obi-Wan had signed away so many freedoms he usually took for granted.
Obi-Wan had stuck with his initial answers given on the compatibility questionnaire so many months ago. Following both a gut feeling, and the slowly building arousal just answering the questions sent through him. He’d indulged in the past, numerous pleasant evenings with Bail and Breha as well as at specialised clubs on Coruscant, but never for more than a couple of days. And never to such a strict set of rules. Now he was set on this year long path, well on the way to one of the altogether too public ‘training’ displays, Obi-Wan was willing to concede that Quinlan was right, and he thought with his cock at the most inopportune moments.
Given that he’d once again allowed his cock to do the thinking for him, Obi-Wan had signed the okay to many activities that had previously been relegated to fantasies indulged in the privacy of his bunk. Just meeting someone’s eye was a punishable offence under the objectification training he’d enthusiastically agreed to. However, Obi-Wan was well within his rights to refuse to obey instructions that went beyond the limits he’d agreed to within the extremely thorough contract he’d signed – and the collar he now wore clearly displayed just what those limits were to anyone who understood how to read it. Which on Maso, was theoretically every member of the adult population.
After the almost… disappointment that his first day as a submissive was yet more administrative work, as they checked and double checked that Obi-Wan consented to everything on the contract and knew how to signal true distress should he need to, he’d had an uneasy night’s sleep. Face strangely cold without his beard, anticipation thrumming through him. Even with the prolonged medical check-up, and series of frankly bizarre stretches and exercises that had taken several hours to get through he’d been antsy. He’d been introduced to his trainer, Sidonis, a veritable bear of a man with kind eyes, who’d tried to reassuringly let him know that not a huge amount was expected of him for the first tenday or so. And that he’d be limited to training that, even he, an outsider, physically wouldn’t be able to kark up too badly on.
Anyway, all of that was how Obi-Wan came to be in his current predicament. He stared up at the rig, slightly dumbfounded as Dominant Sidonis explained this morning’s activity. He was to be trussed up as a piece of living art, in the public lobby of one of Maso’s capital’s numerous buildings. The flush of arousal that had the world going hazy for a moment earned him a knowing look.
Obi-Wan had been so focused on the way over on following the new rules he must abide by as a submissive, who’d signed up to the humiliation and objectification programme, on top of several others that matched his own well-explored kinks, that he didn’t know what the building was. Never mind where he was in the city. Some Master Jedi he was. With a weighted plug in his ass, and stern instructions not to meet any of his better’s eyes on pain of ‘correction’ he’d lost all sense of situational awareness and followed meekly along in his collar.
It turned out that his first ‘training’ session was in contemplating and accepting his new position and status as an object. A thought that shot an unmistakeable flash of heat to his groin. Obi-Wan hadn’t quite thought through what signing up for objectification would mean in a society like this, until he found himself staring up at it.
The device in front of him resembled nothing more than an interrogation frame. Sidonis saw his apprehension, and smiled reassuringly, kind brown eyes that so reminded him of Cody’s seeming to see into his very soul.
Obi-Wan allowed himself to be firmly and inexorably trussed up. He hadn’t questioned the rather strange skin-tight outfit his new trainer dressed him in that morning after his katas anywhere near enough. It almost reminded him of the body gloves the clones wore under their armour, but the item of clothing was paradoxically more revealing than being naked, with obvious access panels in numerous erogenous zones. The purpose of the black synthetic material that encased him head to toe became clear when his handler began strapping him into the intimidating rig. Overtly sensual as the skin-tight material was, it provided a surprising degree of protective padding against the strict restraints he found himself in.
First, he was instructed to lie on his front, prone on the table beside the rig, and not move or speak as the training plug he’d been fitted with that morning was very publicly removed and replaced with something far larger. Sidonis implacably pressed it into him. The cool, impersonal nature of it all, made it all the more hot, and humiliating. Obi-Wan couldn’t decide what was worse, the uneasy clenching in his gut when passers-by completely ignored his debasement, or when the strangers walking through the lobby did show an interest. Obi-Wan gratefully hid his flushed face by resting it on the cool, flat surface of the table as he let Sidonis do what he wanted.
His handler briskly pulled the old plug out, then delighted in trying to make Obi-Wan squirm, working in two lubed fingers, withdrawing, adding more lube. Seeming to deliberately tease his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through him, as Sidonis scissored his fingers stretching him gradually. It was all Obi-Wan could do to hold still as he'd been asked. By the time whatever the new intrusion was had been seated into his ass, seeming huge as it pushed past his ring, and seated itself, even with the thorough prep, it was almost a relief. By the end Obi-Wan was barely managing not to sob into the table in frustration as he slowly got more and more keyed up.
Next a set of straps, running in parallel down the length of his torso, and cinching his legs together from thigh to ankles were applied over that shiny, revealing, skin-tight black suit. Each additional strap helped him sink into that secure feeling of being held. With his legs forced closed together by the strapping, the object in his ass felt even larger.
The fact that his cock was trapped, unstimulated within his suit hadn’t yet occurred to him.
A distress alarm was pushed into his hand, and another set of bindings were then strictly pulled up his arms, his handler briskly pulled what felt like two long gloves up to his biceps. Obi-Wan hazily assisted Sidonis in getting the things onto his arms, clumsy through the low buzz that bondage play tended to put him into. The tight clothing revealed itself to be yet another form of restraint, as Dominant Sidonis pushed his arms behind his back and started applying yet more straps. The mysterious formless glove formed a style of arm-binder. Obi-Wan’s arms forced together behind his back from wrist to well above his elbows by another series of parallel straps.
The flare of pleased arousal that struck, when he realised how vulnerable he now was, was unmistakeable. It was all he could do to make himself lie there and not squirm. Obi-Wan wanted to test the limits of his restraint as more and more components were added to it, but he’d been ordered to stay still, a difficult task with the lust burning through him.
His confinement became gradually more alarming when his knees were bent, angling his ankles up and towards his torso, calves strapped tightly to his thighs in the process, further restricting his movement. Obi-Wan naively believed that was it, when his already restricted arms were pulled even further back, forcing him to arch his back slightly and there was a distinct clunking sensation.
He was hogtied.
The position was incredibly strict. His wrists were tied to his ankles, and his thighs and arms strapped to each other. Obi-Wan was helpless on the table, back forced into an arch that kept his head up and pressed his straining cock and pecs into the unyielding surface below him. It was achingly hot. He tried not to groan as he tested just how very trapped he was.
If he hadn’t been highly trained in the flexibility required of Ataru users, he might have been in trouble. As it was, the contortion he’d been forced into was nothing compared to the stretching routine he usually used as a warmup before practicing katas. (Even now, the more naïve jedi still winced when Obi-Wan went into full splits.)
Sidonis smiled down at him, Obi-Wan grinned dopily back, already slightly lust-drunk.
Just as he began to relax into the restraints, Obi-Wan discovered what the broad straps from his torso to his toes were for. Obi-Wan’s stomach lurched as he found himself abruptly weightless for a moment, as Dominant Sidonis wordlessly winched him into the air to dangle from the mysterious rig.
The position was a strange one, just off horizontal, with his head facing downwards at a slant towards the ground, and his knees pointing up towards the ceiling.
Suspended like this he felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable, unable to even struggle against anything. It was exhilarating.
He was able to examine the lobby from his raised position, and winced as he realised, he was literally a decorative centrepiece to the room. Almost a living sculpture. His distraction cost him, an open o-ring gag was shoved into his mouth, rapidly followed by a complicated set of restraints that covered his eyes and clicked alarmingly into place. It was with the force more than any physical tell that he felt his trainer step away.
“Right, check in. Discomfort signal?”
Obi-Wan was almost too beleaguered by the combined insanity of the position he found himself in and his newfound lack of sight to make the noise in time not to get in trouble. He made the correct series of tonal grunts, confined as his hands were. The embarrassing series of grunts squeaked out just as Sidonis’s presence began to feel annoyed, but it was a close thing.
The man was still waiting with a feeling of an eyebrow raised in the force, Obi-Wan belatedly remembered the alarm button and squeezed it. Something on Sidonis’s person beeped. There was a rustling noise, as the man must have pressed through a set of commands Obi-Wan couldn’t quite parse, and then he felt satisfied.
“Correct. Now remember, this is to teach you how to be a fucktoy," Obi-Wan outright groaned in lust as the man just said it, "an object for others to enjoy. Not for you to enjoy yourself. If you try to draw attention to yourself when you don’t need it, you will be punished. Understood?”
Obi-Wan laboriously grunted the signal that he understood. Already enjoying the discomfiting buzz of humiliation Sidonis's choice of words had provoked. The Dominant was clearly playing to his kinks, and playing him well.
“Excellent.” His trainer adjusted something on the rig, and he tilted further, “Now, I’ll be right here. Just hang there and look pretty for the public.”
“Oh, and here, it’s dual purpose” Obi-Wan did not believe the musing, almost an afterthought tone to Sidonis’s voice one bit.
He felt it viscerally when the object in his ass was clipped to something in the rig, pushing it firmly against his prostate. It was unbearably arousing considering he didn’t even have permission to cum without say so. And he didn’t have permission. Hadn’t even thought to ask over breakfast, despite agreeing to the restrictions the day before and noting them with an uneasy mixture of arousal and alarm.
The rig tilted still further, and Obi-Wan realised what he was supposed to do when Sidonis fumbled his positioning and an unmistakeable shape brushed past his open lips, briefly sliding along his cheek.
“There you go. Now if you don’t learn quickly enough, you will be shocked.”
Inexorably, his mouth held open by the uncomfortably wide ring-gag, he was lowered onto what felt like a huge dildo pointing slightly upwards to match the angle he was held at. The intrusion in his ass shifted to match his position the whole way until the gag clicked home to its phallic mount. Obi-Wan moaned wide-eyed behind the blindfold, humiliated all over again by the situation his devilish, wicked, trainer, had provided.
“Now, if you want relief from your… ah… stimulation, you’ll have to learn how to swallow. Be a good set of holes. If you do well enough it’ll even be fun.”
His trainer stepped away, though with the force, Obi-Wan knew he was there. Paying careful attention. Obi-Wan took a settling breath, trying to ignore the lust that shot through him as the motion drew indelible attention to phallic shape in his mouth. Force, whilst he'd happily ticked the box for public play, Obi-Wan hadn't expected them to get to the point quite this quickly with all the talk of easing him into it. Obi-Wan tested the size of the dildo with his tongue, realising how large it was he moaned happily. Force. And they expected him not to come? Like this? When all of his fantasies were happening right now? Sidonis was hitting all his buttons with this scene. The Dominant had told him it would be a crash course introduction to objectifying public play, but he hadn't thought it would be so... perfect. Obi-Wan harshly told himself to calm down. He only had to make it through the morning. His afternoon was scheduled for more classroom-based etiquette and submissive training, whatever that entailed.
It took him several hesitant attempts to work out what Dominant Sidonis meant about swallowing. The first zap to his ass got Obi-Wan jerking forward in the rig, gagging as the dildo brushed the back of his throat as the electricity made him spasm and clench around the intrusion inside him. The combined pleasure and pain ramped up his arousal from a high simmer to something rather more pressing.
Obi-Wan gradually realised that the gag formed enough of a seal around the dildo that if he sucked just so he’d swing forward fractionally on the finely balanced rig and provide marginal relief to his sensitized prostate. He was too hesitant again and earnt another zap. Painful pleasure putting him at distinct risk of cumming. Clearly taking the cock fully into his mouth wasn’t enough. To truly take away the maddening stimulation, he’d have to swallow.
He groaned in frustrated arousal around the artificial cock. The object in his mouth in itself making him feel vaguely humiliated, and in turn making everything achingly more erotic. Sidonis really was throwing down the gauntlet with this scene, he'd deliberately chosen everything Obi-Wan had admitted got him riled up. Obi-Wan knew he'd struggle not to come, given the way Sidonis had arranged the scenario so it seemed like he didn't have a 'choice' but to fuck himself.
Obi-Wan still hadn’t worked up the courage to swallow, so was stuck in a no man’s land of the dildo teasing his throat, and the object in his ass being unbearably distracting. He’d caught himself clenching down on it a few times, as if he missed the encouragement of the zaps, which sent him gently swaying in the firm clutch of the rig.
The constant teasing not enough pressure in his ass was maddening enough to convince him to try. Obi-Wan groaned around the cock in his mouth again as the next shock inevitably had him clenching around the intrusion, focus inexorably dragged to the sensations zinging through his prostate, and tried to focus on his training. He’d volunteered for this mission. It was his duty to carry it out to the best of his ability. Prove he could be a good object to fuck, to gain the Republic entry to this world. Hazy with appreciative gratification as he was, Obi-Wan needed to do his best.
Gradually, millimetre by millimetre he managed to work his way down the full length of the dildo, until he’d finally successfully swallowed the thing.
He had a delayed realisation that he’d effectively trapped himself deepthroating the artificial cock when his throat spasmed as he desperately tried to breathe around it. He was filled, completely.
A prolonged moment of panic, involving copious tears and drool followed until he near desperately rammed himself backwards in the rig, ramming his prostate similarly harshly in the process. He shuddered in his restraints, cock twitching uselessly, unstimulated as it was, unlike like the rest of him, and tried to remember why he was in this position.
He took too long. The object in his ass zapped him again. He shuddered bodily in his restraints. Groaning around the cock filling his mouth.
After the unsure hiccup of his first attempt, he tried again, eventually working out how to suck and blow. Enduring several ass clenchingly intense shocks in the process, which further increased the pressure on his prostate each time he clenched up around the object zapping him.
The struggle was unbearably arousing. Between the cock in his mouth, and the cock in his ass, Obi-Wan was filled in a carnally satisfying manner that he'd rarely gotten an opportunity to indulge in.
He gradually realised that choking on the cock down his throat was an inevitability. Whimpering to himself he swallowed around the dildo, earning his juddering nerves a momentary reprieve. As he shifted in his restraints, reflexively sucking on the dildo he’d been mounted to and gagged with, he was mortified as he realised a thick stream of drool and tears had worked its way down his face.
Obi-Wan gradually worked up enough of a rhythm swallowing down the dildo, then pulling back, swallowing down, then pulling back, that the marginal shifts of the object permanently jammed up against his prostate shifted from maddening tease to outright pleasure.
He flushed all over with mortification when he felt surge of lust in the force around him.
“New furniture?”
“Yep.”
“The dear seems to be doing well, if that puddle’s any indication.”
The casual impersonal lust almost had his eyes rolling back into his head, assailed in the force on top of the already powerful sensations coursing through his body. People had been watching him sucking on the cock in his mouth in order to fuck himself on the dildo in his ass. He came with a horrified sob. Cock letting out a steady unsatisfying stream of cum, the liquid building up uncomfortably in his suit.
The orgasm was both a wonderful release, and a dreadful disappointment. Good but unsatisfying. Almost as if he hadn’t actually cum at all.
Obi-Wan was caught in his mixed elation and humiliation, he'd just done that, in public.
“Oh no, it was doing so well.” The stranger sounded almost mournful.
“Never mind.” Came the no-nonsense tones of Obi-Wan’s Dominant. “Your punishment will be integrated into your training session this evening.”
Obi-Wan gurgled around his mouthful apologetically. Still coming down from the wonderful high Sidonis had allowed him to reach.
“Now then let’s get you out of that display.”
Obi-Wan was little help. Limp with the satisfaction from his curiously muted orgasm as he was, he basked in the lust of the people in the lobby, and his own feelings of languid pleasure. He couldn't quite believe he'd just done that. He immediately wanted to do it again.
Back on the ground, with his movement newly restored, and his mildly aching jaw allowed to close again, Obi-Wan felt a jolt as he realised the intrusion in his ass hadn’t been touched. Obi-Wan questioningly turned to his Dominant, he almost met his eyes, before realising just in time that he would likely earn himself another punishment. He mournfully gestured to his uncomfortably slick crotch.
There was no sympathy in Sidonis’s voice, though the man didn't sound upset.
“That’s what you get for coming. You’ll have to walk back to the training centre, with a hook in your ass and your shame in your suit.”
Obi-Wan flushed when he realised he was hooked like some sort of livestock. It hadn’t been a dildo at all, but a hook. Dominant Sidonis unclamped something, tugging uncomfortably, applying constant pressure to his already sensitised prostate in the process. Satisfied he locked the hook to his collar.
Sidonis gave Obi-Wan a proprietary pat on the rump, likely deliberately jiggling the hook. Obi-Wan suppressed a groan as pleasure shot through him, lust already rapidly building again as he realised he'd continue to very obviously look used in public.
“There, all ready for the walk back.”
He walked back through the city’s streets. Cock uncomfortably sticky in his suit. His ass very obviously hooked to his neck, forcing him to push his chest out and forward, or the thing would dig in uncomfortably pushing his sensitive prostate to near painful overstimulation. The buzz of nervy arousal Obi-Wan could feel under his skin had him failing to pay attention again.
A passer-by leered knowingly, Obi-Wan reflexively gave him the Negotiator’s flat stare, not wanting to look like he was ashamed of himself. Jedi by and large did not have hang-ups about sexuality.
“And that’s another punishment submissive. And you started today so well.”
Dank farrik! Despite everything, despite the fact that he was publicly hooked to his own hole, and actively participating in his own submission, Obi-Wan had managed to forget himself.
Despite the kind brown eyes, and the mournful tone, Obi-Wan didn’t believe the conciliatory message at all. He’d have glared at the man if it wouldn’t earn him yet another demerit.
Despite the low-buzz of pleasure, and pleased squirming every time he remembered the rig, it was a relief to get back to the quiet of his assigned room, and into the plain outfit he’d been provided with yesterday when they got back to the submissive training centre. Surprisingly harsh training or not, they did care about his health. He had a solid block of downtime to himself before midmeal.
Obi-Wan took the time to centre himself, and organise his feelings on the morning's activities. The rig had been exciting, and the curious excited arousal he always felt with sexual humiliation almost made him fall into daydreaming of more public scenarios. With a Jedi's degree of self-control, Obi-Wan examined his own emotions, and felt satisfied that his response to the morning's scene was the anticipated excitement, rather than anything more unwelcome. He glanced at the chrono once he'd finished sorting through his reactions and found he'd been allotted far more downtime than he actually needed. All to the good. Obi-Wan spent the remaining time slicing into their computer systems, but despite the experience he’d gained during the prolonged fight against the Separatists, the system was foreign enough that he only gained an overview of the system’s architecture before he had to withdraw.
Obi-Wan got to the small cafeteria attached to the building his quarters were in, relieved to be unencumbered. Fun as the morning's activities had been, it was nice to be able to stretch out properly again without risking soiling his pants. Dominant Sidonis gestured imperiously to the table he was already sat at. Obi-Wan automatically obeyed and sat down. Only realising after he was already seated what sort of mindset he was slipping into. Already he was getting too used to not being in charge of himself. He took a centring breath in and looked down at the table.
Midmeal wasn’t the dull but filling fare from the previous month. A bowl of white… fluid was placed in front of him.
Dominant Sidonis, didn’t pretend to misunderstand Obi-Wan’s questioning expression.
“You are on punishment now submissive.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, we know what subspecies you are. It is nutritionally complete. Even if you live off that stuff for the rest of your life you won’t waste away. I’d get in trouble if you couldn’t do those morning dances of yours that your contract states you have to perform perfectly by the end of your training.”
The reminder of his daily katas helped settle him.
Obi-Wan hesitantly ate a spoonful and pulled a face at the familiar but curiously unidentifiable and unexpectedly salty-bitter flavour.
Sidonis laughed.
“Though you’ll probably prefer not to.”
Obi-Wan looked mournfully at the previously bland seeming fare his instructor had, before hesitantly swallowing another spoonful.
Sidonis smirked and dug into his own, suddenly infinitely more attractive looking meal.
“Eat up. You’ve got a busy rest of the day scheduled.”
Obi-Wan was about halfway through the bowl of gruel, when Sidonis checked in.
"How are you feeling?"
"Calm."
"You enjoyed yourself?"
Obi-Wan flushed and almost forgot to answer, "I - yes."
"Good."
The rest of the conversation was an excruciating exercise in emotional honesty and openness. Obi-Wan had thought he was an exceedingly self-aware individual, but the series of check-in questions Sidonis carefully walked him through were incredibly thorough. The conversation consisted of several dozen different variations of making sure Obi-Wan hadn't been upset by their very public activities, and that he wasn't too excited to escalate to further activities.
"Now. Your punishment. You've earnt yourself two sessions."
"Yes." Obi-Wan agreed, resigned.
"Since you're new to this, I'll be choosing from your list of activities you marked as untried but interesting." Obi-Wan almost lost the thread of the conversation to the spark of lust that shot through him as he remembered the activities on that list, "Remember you can tap out if it becomes too much. We train submissives, we don't break them."
With that reminder ringing in his ears Obi-Wan left for classes, anticipation buzzing.
Obi-Wan’s afternoon was spent in a classroom, it was almost nostalgic, a slice of normalcy, which if he was honest, he hadn’t experienced since before his padawan days. The class was fronted by an imperious looking Zeltron woman, who practically exuded authority from every pore.
His fellow students were similarly attired in the plain white shifts and shorts combination they all had to wear when not actively training, with numerous variations of the patterned class collars. There was a veritable rainbow of submissive roles on display, though Obi-Wan couldn’t yet interpret all the patterns. He thought the red band around the humanoid sat at the desk in front of his signified a service submissive, whatever that entailed.
She mostly left the students to it, but would occasionally answer questions, or impersonally demonstrate something, using a student, that was invariably extremely sexually suggestive.
The lessons were twisted. Obi-Wan was embarrassed to realise he was once again thrumming with low-grade arousal as the class went on. He was not exactly living up to the unflustered calm expected of a Jedi at the moment. However, he’d signed himself up for this, he had to keep reminding himself, as informational diagrams about how he was expected to present himself to best please a Dominant were laid in front of him, triggering a curious fusion of ebullience and chagrin. Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he was looking forward to or dreading those activities becoming the norm.
A couple of hours into the class the instructor loomed at Obi-Wan’s table,
“Ah yes, submissive Ben. We were told you were under punishment.”
Obi-Wan gulped, worried despite himself, he’d lived through Geonosis and everything that came after. This place was nothing in comparison. He'd likely find the coming exercise in humility enjoyable, arguably too enjoyable.
“Come and see me after you’ve finished today’s workbook. Your Dominant gave me the details.”
Despite his excited anticipation about that ominous missive, Obi-Wan soon got lost in the work. The workbook was informative. It confirmed everything they’d learnt during the lengthy preliminary negotiations, a submissive’s place in their society wasn’t quite the caste system they’d feared when the information exchange first started. After all, according to the information he was looking at a submissive could choose to learn to become a Dominant and vice versa, and many members of the population didn’t choose to engage in the Dom/sub dynamic at all, eschewing it entirely. Admittedly with the large fiscal incentive to complete a year’s training, most members of the population did choose to pick a role. The culture genuinely appeared to carry out its sexual practices far more openly than most of the Core-world cultures in the galaxy.
Obi-Wan found himself wondering what Mace was learning about a few times. Everything was framed from the perspective of the submissive including, reassuringly, the rights they had, should someone attempt to take advantage of the rules they chose to abide by.
He found he was almost disappointed when his workpad beeped at him to let him know he’d gotten through the day’s information. Though, Obi-Wan supposed he should be grateful they were being eased into their roles gently. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling at the idea that when he progressed far enough into his role as a submissive, he’d be expected to ‘present’ automatically. The required position was inherently exposing, kneeling legs spread, chest thrust forward, eyes deferentially lowered, and ass angled upwards.
The pang of confused arousal and anxiety that shot through him at the mental image was heated, whatever the other emotions it engendered were.
Obi-Wan packed his datapad into the slot provided in his desk, and hesitantly approached the instructor at the front of the room. Everyone else seemed to be finished too, from the general shuffling and putting things away.
The instructor held something out.
“Here, your gag.”
Obi-Wan took the proffered black ball, puzzled.
The instructor blinked at him condescendingly.
“Put it in your mouth.”
Obi-Wan tentatively complied. Already he could feel himself getting worked up in titillating anticipation of whatever would happen next.
The black ball was large enough that the fit was uncomfortable, and it was mildly embarrassing to be expected to walk around with his cheeks puffed out, and lips unable to seal around the intrusion, but nothing too… The ball shifted of its own accord, seeming to turn fluid in his mouth, even though the ball remained resolutely obstructive and massive. The curious sensation of liquid running over his lips had him confused, he hadn’t had the thing in his mouth long enough to begin drooling surely?
The satisfaction on the instructor’s pink face told him he was in trouble.
It was only when the fluid reached his nostrils and kept moving upwards that he realised what was happening, unable to see it as he was. The gag was somehow engulfing him. It surged into his nostrils and crept further up his face towards his eyes. Obi-Wan panicked and tried to spit it out again, but by this stage it was firmly anchored to him. Immovable, and inexorably growing.
He was distracted from what was happening to his torso when the ooze slid up to completely cover his head, for a brief moment all sound, sight, and smell was cut for a claustrophobic eternity. Just as he began to truly fear the black, Obi-Wan realised that his mouth was now held open by a horribly familiar ring shape, his nostrils were clear, albeit lined with goo, and he could see and hear again.
In the rush of profound relief, he barely realised that his limbs had been engulfed, until the suit contracted around him forcing him down to all fours. From his position on his hands and knees he could only look up helplessly as the other submissive students filed out of the classroom, some of them shooting him covert sympathetic glances, others showing blatant arousal, as if they wished to be in his position.
He realised he was going to be 'made' to take whatever he was given. The notion was undeniably erotic.
Obi-Wan squirmed, letting out a surprised moan as the fluid coating his limbs shifted once again, forcing him to bend both his knees and his elbows. His hands were inexorably forced up to clasp helplessly at his own shoulders, leaving him effectively without even arms, let alone thumbs. Obi-Wan’s feet were pushed into a pointed position, and his heels were soon stuck digging into the meat of his ass and sealed there by the strange fluid fabric.
Obi-Wan realised he’d be stuck on all fours for the time being, without even the benefit of his lower limbs. He flushed at the surprising rush of arousal that flooded him at the mental image of how he must look. He noted his reaction. Perhaps ‘presenting’ wouldn’t be such a hardship after all. He glanced down as far as he was able with the strange encumbrance of the suit clasping tightly all around him and was relieved to see, and feel, padded platforms under his elbows and knees.
A loud yelp was forced out of him as the suit finished sealing itself around his torso, the viscous fluid oozed over his crotch and nipples, with a shock of unidentifiably intense sensation as it did so. Obi-Wan groaned through a confused haze of pleasure/pain as his nipples were sucked at harshly by something he couldn’t see, he reflexively tried to push his chest towards the source of the feeling, as if to relieve his poor nipples from the odd stretching sensation, but the movement did nothing.
The inescapable feeling heightened the feeling of helpless lust. Force. That was another fantasy checked off the list today.
He panted loudly in the otherwise silent classroom, the instructor looking patiently down at him, when the suit seemed to shift and ripple alarmingly around his encased groin. His pants turned into a long, drawn-out groan as a previously unnoticed filament of the suit that had crept into his arse expanded to overwhelming proportions. Obi-Wan felt incredibly full, the sudden pressure on his prostate intense enough after the morning’s drawn-out session of stimulation that he almost came on the spot.
He might have too, and earnt himself another punishment in the process, but the suit anticipated his reaction, and was tightly wrapped around him, preventing release. The enormous feeling plug in his ass shifted again, making Obi-Wan yelp, and the ring that had crept around his cock felt even tighter.
The familiarly tight sensation of the suit clasping around his cock shifted abruptly into the altogether foreign sensation of something slowly working its way into his cock. Obi-Wan groaned loudly again, a long line of drool splattering onto the floor beneath him as he fruitlessly tried to shift his groin away to escape the intrusion. All he managed to do was rub his thighs together, push his ass upwards, and moan.
The suit worked its way all the way down the length of him, the utterly unfamiliar feeling of something inside his penis bizarrely intimate, before it too expanded to what felt like twice its previous width inside him, whiting out the world in a moment of confused intense sensation.
If Obi-Wan hadn’t already been rigidly forced down to all fours, he’d have probably collapsed. As it was, he could only continue to pant and drool. Overcome, as his cock was inexorably forced down between his legs, and his balls compressed vice-like against himself. The complex feeling of being surrounded inside and out was unbearably filthy.
The whole bizarre feeling contraption encasing his groin, tightly clasping every inch of him, inside and out, started vibrating. The plug in his ass, the probe in his cock, and the compression against his perineum and balls. The resulting feeling of having his prostate heavily stimulated from several directions at once consumed his world for force knew how long.
He couldn’t see, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t hear. He could only feel. Held implacably at that edge, but unable to tip over it.
Eventually his sense of self was able to wrest awareness back from that precipice of orgasm. He was a Jedi after all. A Jedi who'd willingly allowed himself to be trapped in a prison of his own lust. The heady inescapability of it all almost made him cum, despite his current physical difficulties in actually doing so.
When Obi-Wan managed to rouse himself from the heady haze of sensation to something approaching awareness the instructor looked pleased,
“Excellent. Your suit has been set for strict compliance; yes? You signed up under the object course.”
Obi-Wan could only softly moan in response, but the instructor didn’t seem to expect an answer. Force, but this was so much better than he'd imagined.
“Your Dominant will be along to collect you shortly.”
Sidonis looked the same as he had all day. Coolly unruffled, even as he participated in sexual acts.
“Oh good.” Those kind brown eyes gazed down at him musingly, “All the requested settings successfully activate?”
“Of course, anal, perineal, and internal prostate stimulation activated.”
Through the haze of pained arousal the suit was fairly literally squeezing out of him, Obi-Wan just about managed to follow along as Dominant Sidonis started talking.
“Good good.” Sidonis looked down sternly, “You’ve earnt yourself three hours of this for both cumming without permission and glaring at a person. Once you’re released, you’ll get two hours of welfare, then I’ll take you to the punitive sleeping arrangement. I wanted to introduce you to your new position in Maso slowly, but you earned this sub.”
The flush of embarrassed shame that shot through Obi-Wan, as he realised he hadn’t even been here a day and already he’d failed, intensified everything that was being done to him. He got lost to the overwhelming stimulation centred around his groin again.
Through the haze Obi-Wan realised Sidonis had asked a question, and that he was humping the air. He whimpered in what he hoped was a questioning manner.
Sidonis sighed. “I’ll go easy on you just this once since it’s your first time. I asked, do you remember your distress signal?”
Obi-Wan moaned an affirmative, even as relief rushed through his veins. That’s right, he could get out.
“Show me?”
At the time Obi-Wan had found the practice unnecessarily silly, now he understood it’s purpose. It didn’t make actually uttering the pre-arranged series of animalistic grunts any less humiliating.
"Good. Remember you're allowed to stop this if it gets too much."
Sidonis walked out of the classroom, before reappearing looking annoyed, “Well? Come on submissive.”
Obi-Wan realised he was expected to shuffle along like this with a hot sinking feeling. The near constant arousal brought on by the suit was maddening, and now he was expected to move? He shuddered in place, moaning lowly as the first tentative shift of his arm nearly had him face-planting to the floor. Force. It was so much.
“Keep up,” Sidonis turned and glared sternly down at him, “or you’ll earn another punishment.”
Quietly grunting and moaning the whole way Obi-Wan awkwardly shuffled behind Dominant Sidonis down the hall. Part of his mind noted all the other people around to witness this, and shrank away in horror, but most of his focus was on his groin and the fierce waves of pleasure/pain that inexorably came regardless of if he managed to put one elbow or knee in front of the other or not.
His world reduced down to the floor in front of him, and the electricity that seemed to course through his veins with every awkward lumber forward.
“Stop.”
Obi-Wan ceased his shuffling and resisted the bizarre urge to whine pitifully.
“Look at yourself.”
Oh, unnoticed the wall of the hallway was now a mirror.
“Look what you’ve earnt yourself with your misbehaviour. A thing on all fours, waving its sex around for everyone to see how eager, how desperate it is to cum.”
Sidonis manhandled Obi-Wan around so that he was loosely upright and facing the mirror. The man’s casual display of strength did things to him, even with the way all his nerves seemed to maddeningly sing with frustrated excitement.
Force. Sidonis was right, he did look a sight. He’d been reduced to a shapeless quadrupedal form, with four bizarrely stubby limbs, and a smooth featureless head. The permanent o of his mouth resembled nothing so much as a cheap sex droid. He was only vaguely humanoid.
The gag-suit was smooth and black, but utterly revealing. He could see his nipples, sharply outlined, forced painfully erect by the suit, his stomach muscles had never been so obvious. He glanced down, every line of his cock, including the ring wrapped around its base and the tendril snaking inside from the protrusion nestled around its head was obscenely visible. Obi-Wan could practically see it throbbing in time with his heartbeat, encased in its prison, forced down between his legs as it was. His balls were compressed uncomfortably into him, almost hidden under the packed line of his cock. The whole set up resembled nothing more than a cunt from the outside.
Obi-Wan moaned, Sidonis grinned and turned him back on all fours, pushing his groin to face the mirror. “Keep looking.” He instructed.
His ass truly drew his attention, with everything else going on, Obi-Wan hadn’t quite registered that the suit was spreading his cheeks so widely. They were pushed apart far enough that he could easily see where the plug filled him. Worse, it was apparently hollow, and he could see the sheer gaping width of it. The dark hole glistened, looking altogether too open and vulnerable.
Darkly, Sidonis said, “You’re almost entirely cock.” And pressed firmly at Obi-Wan’s bulging hole.
The enormous plug shifted inside him with Sidonis’s casual manipulations. The renewed rush of sensation paired with the realisation, of how very full he felt, how very open he was, and how little control he had, almost had him collapsing in a heap on the floor.
Obi-Wan groaned and tried not to hump the air. Again. He wasn’t entirely successful.
“Hrmm,” the grin was audible in his voice, “the sub seems to almost be enjoying its punishment. I should have expected as much from the intake forms.”
Dominant Sidonis strutted away.
“Well? Come on sub.”
The haze of laboriously crawling along the floor, focus almost wholly subsumed by the waves of aching pleasure radiating from his groin resumed.
It took Obi-Wan a long moment to realise that they had reached their destination. The large space he’d crawled into only registering when there was a clunk in front of him. To his increased mortification he realised they were in a cafeteria. A very busy cafeteria. Far larger than the one from midmeal. Where most of the people seemed to be allowed to do whatever they wanted, including walk upright on their own feet.
“There’s dinner.”
Obi-Wan glanced at the bowl on the floor, understanding taking a long moment to dawn through the constant thrum of arousal that was impossible to ignore. Oh. Oh.
“Eat up!”
Wasn’t he humbled enough?
He glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying his internal drama any attention. The pause of all activity had him panting harshly again, as his overstimulated prostate sharply demanded his attention. Force, he hadn't expected this to be so good.
When he managed to open his eyes again, Dominant Sidonis looked disappointed. Obi-Wan flinched and started in on his meal.
It was irritatingly awkward getting his head down far enough to even touch the rim of the bowl with his limbs so bizarrely constricted. It took Obi-Wan a couple of attempts to work out how to get his head down to the floor without unduly stressing his arms. With his mouth still held open, he ended up drooling into his own meal as he sorted it out.
Obi-Wan ended up in an obscene position, ass and groin practically pointed heavenwards, wiggling invitingly at anyone who happened to walk past. He supposed ruefully, through the constant haze of arousal, as he finally worked out how to arrange his restrained limbs, that was entirely the point. Obi-Wan barely bit back another lewd moan at that mental image.
Up close the white paste looked even less appetising than it had at midmeal. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and tried to centre himself, though the constant intense stimulation centred around his prostate made most thought all but impossible.
Internally squirming at the flush of humiliation, that thankfully was hidden under his suit, Obi-Wan pushed himself face first into the bowl on the floor and tried to slurp up his unappetising dinner. The slimy salty feel to the stuff in his mouth somehow even worse the second time.
The permanent o the suit forced his lips into made it impossible, no matter how hard he mashed his face into the bowl, Obi-Wan couldn’t close his mouth enough to keep the food in and swallow. All he achieved was a humiliating licking motion through the open hole of his mouth, barely getting a scant mouthful of the bitter white goo after several squelching attempts.
He almost fell headfirst into the gruel, and ended up whimpering, face on the floor, ass gyrating up in the air, as he clenched fruitlessly around the plug.
“Oh, look at it, completely covered!” There was lust fuelled laughter from one of the other Dominant’s that Obi-Wan didn’t fully register, “Poor thing. Can’t even eat out of a bowl.”
Even through the heady haze of his own debased arousal, Obi-Wan was learning to distrust that tone. Part of him preened at the attention, even as the mortification shot yet another surge of heat through him.
“Oh well, come here, let Sidonis help.”
No doubt still slathered in the white ooze that was supposed to be his dinner, Obi-Wan was led to a table where numerous Dominants were eating and chatting away.
The contents of Obi-Wan’s bowl were tipped into a strange container mounted to the table, next to one of the seats.
Obi-Wan looked up at it in puzzlement, as Sidonis settled his plate down, and sat himself. Through the fog of arousal, Obi-Wan could barely put two and two together but eventually realised he needed to move after several minutes of freezing like an idiot in the middle of the floor.
Obi-Wan laboriously crawled over to the man’s other side, where the container was, and baulked at what he saw. His gruel was in a hopper of sorts, with a tube leading down to a dildo that was just finishing extending from a port under the table. Even through the distracting ever more frustrating arousal, the meaning was obvious.
He was expected to suck his food out of a cock, in full view of everyone in the cafeteria.
“Well, eat up! We’re not leaving until you finish. Looks like you’ll get pretty good at the sucking at the rate you’re going.”
The familiar salty-bitter taste of the white ooze was now mortifyingly obvious. Obi-Wan moaned in renewed arousal and humiliation as he realised what midmeal had reminded him of, and exactly what he was expected to do in front of everyone.
He would quite literally be sucking cum out of a cock.
Obi-Wan hesitantly pushed his face towards the black dildo, the thing looking intimidatingly huge now that he seemingly had a choice in the matter.
Of course, it wasn’t quite that easy, it was positioned in such a manner that he was once again forced to lean downwards and tilt his ass skywards. Sidonis noticed he’d gotten into position, and hummed in satisfaction.
“Good sub. Ass up, as it should be.” Sidonis absently patted his ass, and started chatting with one of the Dominants next to him.
The buzz of renewed shame and gratification had Obi-Wan clenching his eyes shut, before he tentatively started suckling. The longer he hesitated, the longer he’d be here, where everyone could see.
Obi-Wan had just worked out a good rhythm, the cock letting out an infuriatingly slow dribble of… cum, every time he deep throated it successfully, when a presence cut through the deep-seated arousal both his predicament and his current actions built up. There was a jolt of shock and heated lust in the force. A familiar presence had entered the room. Part of Obi-Wan’s brain sat up and panicked, even as he lustfully continued to suck for his meal, fully caught up in the repetitive action.
“Ah Master Jedi! Come! Join us!”
It was Mace.
The flood of mortification almost had Obi-Wan choking on his cock.
“Ah hello Dominant...?”
“I’m Sidonis.” Obi-Wan’s Dominant said cheerfully. “How are you finding Dominant life?”
“Perfectly pleasant. The instructive material so far has been… informative.”
“Ah I see you’ve noticed my newest trainee. First day and the sub’s already earned itself a punishment.”
“And they… agreed to this?”
Mace sounded cautious.
“Oh yes.” A hand landed on Obi-Wan’s head, “Didn’t you sub?”
Obi-Wan, eyes clenched tightly shut, in combined shame and arousal could only moan a vague affirmative around the cock in his mouth.
Mace’s presence poked cautiously at him in the force, Obi-wan breathed out heavily through his nose and projected back the feeling that he was where he should be. He suspected he'd also sent the feeling that he was a bit too happy to be in this position. Mace withdrew.
“Yes he’s trying hard to be a good submissive, but he’s still learning.”
“What did he do to earn this?”
“The sub came without permission. If that wasn’t enough, he glared at a person when taking his first punishment.”
“I… see.”
Sidonis glanced at Obi-Wan and frowned, “Why have you stopped? Your food won’t eat itself submissive Ben.”
Feeling newly humbled Obi-Wan rapidly got back to sucking his latemeal out of the cock in front of him, indelibly aware of Mace’s attention and his shamefully jiggling ass the whole time. He’d long since gotten to the point where he was rhythmically clenching around the source of his torment, as if that would give him enough to tip him over the edge into release.
Obi-Wan gradually sank into the haze of frustrated arousal and almost reflexively used a few tricks that he’d used in the past to pleasure real cocks before he realised what he was doing. It was too late, Mace was right there. And he could see him, like this.
After an age of mortified lust, where he could feel himself heating up, spiralling higher and higher in a combination of enforced arousal and continued humiliation as his position, Obi-Wan suckled the last of his meal out of the cock in front of him.
The task had been rendered all but impossible by his own inability to focus on anything but the vibrations continually stimulating his prostate, and the deliberately awkward height the dildo had been set to.
Obi-Wan automatically gave the cock in his mouth a friendly swipe, before he registered what he was doing, and cringed at himself. It was so good, but so much.
Dominant Sidonis and Master Windu both peered down at him.
“I see you’ve finished.”
A hand clicked in front of his nose.
“Follow me.”
Sidonis casually walked away from the table, at a pace he must have known Obi-Wan would struggle to match.
“Now for the object lesson. Would you care to see Master Jedi?”
Obi-Wan was led over to a strange low plinth in a row of similar plinths along one wall of the cafeteria.
“Climb up.”
Obi-Wan almost whimpered but stopped himself just in time as he remembered Master Windu was watching.
With great difficulty, and eventually a good haul up from Dominant Sidonis, Obi-Wan laboriously managed to clamber onto the low platform.
He positioned his arms as instructed in the divots and waited to see what would happen next.
Sidonis simply stepped back and looked pleased with himself. Master Windu looked politely curious, though his presence in the force held a tense edge to it. They moved around behind him, Obi-Wan automatically tried to keep an eye on their position, and found his elbows and knees were firmly adhered to the surface he was resting on. He was completely immobile.
There was the sensation of pressure from above, Dominant Sidonis had put a broad plate on his back.
“There, sub Ben is going to be a table for the diners for the next hour.”
The immediate surge of lust that rushed through him had Mace responding in kind in the force. Obi-Wan felt bizarrely pleased to be sharing this side of himself with his fellow Master, even as the humiliation of the debasing activities he'd allowed himself to indulge in zinged through his psyche. Mace sent him a wave of cautious approval in the force, which Obi-Wan leaned into gratefully before the reality of the erotic scenario he was participating in distracted him thoroughly.
Obi-Wan gradually sank back into a haze of feeling, since he had very little else to focus on beyond the sensations zinging through him that meant he was rhythmically clenching his ass, and fruitlessly trying to hump the air ,rendered completely immobile as he was.
A questioning whimper was pulled from him when he unexpectedly felt something jiggle the plug still filling him up. A voice above him said, as the plug continued to shift maddeningly,
“Ah good, this table has its own waste receptacle.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes opened wide as horrified arousal surged through him, and he groaned lowly from the depths of his throat. So that’s why the plug had been hollow.
It was a good thing right? Humiliating as it was, Obi-Wan was being useful. Fulfilling his role here as a thing to prove the Jedi could be trusted.
An indeterminable length of time later, Sidonis helped him down from the platform, and Obi-Wan began obediently crawling behind his Dominant. At some point Master Windu had vanished. Just as his presence had barely registered through… everything, his absence barely got noted.
They paused at the mirrored hall again,
“Good little set of holes.”
Obi-Wan’s plugged hole was fairly overflowing with napkins and other refuse. The suit was forming a protective barrier between him and the garbage, but the knowledge of what had been done to him, what he’d allowed to be done to him, was all consuming.
“I’d leave you like this,” Obi-Wan moaned lowly at the statement, Sidonis continued, ignoring him. “But… You’re still getting used to your new position here. I can tell it’s going to take a while to sink in. Come on. It’s time to clean up.”
The unceasing vibrations stopped. Obi-Wan almost collapsed in combined relief and thwarted desire. He desperately wanted to cum.
Obi-Wan crawled along to a quiet set of showers, where the suit was hosed down, though he could barely feel the downpour of water through the fabric.
“Strip.”
There was a long pause.
“Oh right. Haha! That’s my job! Sorry!”
Sidonis fiddled with something on a control pad on his arm. The suit retracted back into an innocuous looking black ball, leaving Obi-Wan shivering at the surprisingly intense sensation of air flow after so long with nothing but the mild pressure of the fabric that had encased him.
“Let’s get you warmed up again. You get to relax and wind down now for a bit, before I get you set up for the night.”
Obi-Wan was more grateful to be rid of his confining outfit than anything. Nakedness didn’t hold much taboo for the Jedi. Obediently Obi-Wan followed the implicit instructions and stepped into the shower stall, grateful for the heat of the near scalding water once he’d turned the temperature up on high.
Obi-Wan gratefully accepted the now familiar plain shift, and struggled with processing everything he’d just allowed himself to experience.
“Don’t worry about it Ben. You’re doing well for a total newbie.”
“I am?”
“Sure. It’s obvious you never expected to sign up to submissive training. I mean most submissives at least know how to present properly to their Dominant. But still, you’re a natural!”
Obi-Wan could tell he’d flushed all over from the heat on his face.
Sidonis chuckled, “Now, you’ll get some warm blankets and time to yourself back at the submissives lounge. Anything you need? Fluids? Still hungry?”
Obi-Wan hopefully turned.
“It’ll still be punishment stew.” Sidonis continued.
Oh.
“Oh, no thank you. That is. Is there any tea?”
“Oh yeah sure. I didn’t think to ban that.” Sidonis’s musing tone spoke volumes about what he intended to do with the new information. Obi-Wan internally winced.
“Go, get comfortable. I’ll bring you your drink, and we can talk over your first day.”
“Thank you.” Obi-Wan responded, both grateful and unsure what to make of this abrupt change of pace.
The next couple of hours passed in a comfortable haze of warmth and soft furnishings. Sidonis had swapped from taskmaster to friend with an ease that Obi-Wan would have found alarming if he wasn’t so discombobulated by his first proper introduction to this way of life, and the arousal that still flared up uncomfortably every time he remembered what had happened during the day.
He got through two cups of tea, a nicely vegetal tasting blend with an astringent dryness that was welcome after two meals of white ooze. Sidonis had been solicitous the whole time, checking carefully that Obi-Wan wasn’t feeling the wrong sort of humiliation from the activities he’d carried out.
“Now, this’ll be the last of your punishment for both coming and then glaring at one of your betters.”
Obi-Wan wasn’t led back to the dorms with their acceptable but thoroughly institutional mattresses. But in the opposite direction, to a broad corridor that bridged the street between the submissives Training Centre and the Dominants Training Centre.
The contraption in front of him was both alarming and confusing.
Obi-Wan baulked as he saw the forms lined up along the centre of the wide corridor. It almost looked like a carbon-freeze set up, but there was something wrong with the colour, and the positions.
Sidonis seemed to misunderstand his hesitation yet again, “Don’t worry. You’ll get plenty of chances to earn back an actual bed.”
Wait what. Earn back?
Sidonis gently pushed him forwards. Seeing no other choice Obi-Wan began walking down the corridor. Humanoid forms suspended and encased in black frames in all sorts of compromising positions confronted him as he walked past. One or two of them seemed to shudder in place as he looked.
“Strip.”
The command was simple and unyielding. Dominant Sidonis was back. Obi-Wan shrugged out of his simple outfit and followed Sidonis along the row.
There was an empty frame at the end of the corridor.
“Now, this is your distress buzzer. If you get into difficulties, press it.”
Obi-Wan’s hand was pressed around a ball.
“Get in the envelope. Sit on the floor. The frame will do the rest.”
A suspiciously familiar looking black fabric hung loosely in the empty frame. Most of the fabric draped on the floor rather than stretched taut like the occupied examples.
Obi-Wan shimmied down inside the bag, noting that the fabric was utterly opaque as he positioned himself. As soon as he managed to sit in the centre of the rectangle that was half on the floor, half raised in the frame, Sidonis reassuringly patted his head, and flipped the top half of the envelope up over him.
Immediately the fabric began to draw taut, gaining rigidity as it was pulled upright. The disquieting not-quite-liquid sensation of the fabric turning fluid around him and turning into a form of restraint was becoming uncomfortably familiar.
He rapidly found himself spread-eagled in the dark, with nothing to see or hear. The only part of his body at all capable of movement were the fingers tightly clasped around his ball, and even that was only the option to squeeze more tightly. With a groan at the horrible inevitability of it all, Obi-Wan felt something clasp tightly around his cock once more.
It was at once more and less claustrophobic than being held captive in a stasis field. On the one hand he could see and hear as good as nothing of the world around him. On the other the constant sensation of pressure that embraced him from all sides was at once comforting and unnerving. Obi-Wan was intimately aware of how vulnerable he felt like this, but unlike a stasis field he’d merely have to reach out with the force, or rather, squeeze his hand, and he’d be free.
A harsh smack shook him in the sheet he was suspended from. It came out of absolutely nowhere. There had been no warning, not even in the force.
The spanking of his ass quickly built up in intensity until he was moaning desperately into the black sheet that engulfed him. Obi-Wan could feel his cock trying and failing to harden in the tight constrictions of the frame.
With nothing to focus on but his ass the smacks felt ridiculously intense, shooting through him like blaster bolts, when he knew they weren’t that harsh.
By the time his mystery assailant stopped Obi-Wan was achingly hard, rather literally, given the blood couldn’t actually get him hard, compressed as everything was by the sheet, and near sobbing as his ass burned like it was on fire.
The sheet had paradoxically both dulled the slaps, so they were less harsh than if he’d been naked and made them feel stingier at the same time. Either way, he knew his ass was likely bright red, it certainly felt glowingly hot.
Dominant Sidonis’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere,
“Now, we’re just going to install your water, and the overnight measure to stop you cumming without permission, since you’ve proven you can’t be trusted. Then it’s, aha, lights out.”
The black sheet moved in a horribly familiar fashion. It was the same material as the gag suit. Obi-Wan clenched up, but he still couldn’t move a muscle in the constricting envelope that caressed him.
Obi-Wan’s jaw was gradually forced open around an intrusion, which steadily grew into a very familiar shape. His water tube was, predictably, a phallus.
Ridiculously, given how long he’d been worked up earlier, he felt his arousal intensify. A horribly familiar sensation oozed around his cock, Obi-Wan clenched his eyes more tightly in dreadful and excited anticipation.
The probe pushing its way into his cock was a weird kind of overwhelming relief. He literally wouldn’t be able to break any more rules like this. Even if the sensation itself was enough that he felt like he should be cumming or something or anything.
He thought it was all over, he’d just reflexively suckled on the cock in his mouth when a ghostly hand caressed his stomach, and tweaked his nipples.
“Ah yes, I thought you should know, this is a public thoroughfare. Sleep well!”
Obi-Wan settled in, resigned to his position as plaything for any passer-by. It was going to be a long night. Hell, this was just his first full day. It was going to be a long year.