Chapter Text
Luke was taken from his aunt and uncle when he was just 10 years old. It was so long ago now that he could barely remember exactly how it had happened.
He could remember little things… How Uncle Owen had taken him into Mos Eisley, how the older man had stepped into an unfamiliar building, how he told Luke to wait outside… The next thing he remembered was waking up in a cell.
At first he was too shocked to understand what was going on. One minute he was with his Uncle and the next he was trapped away in a cell. Days later, when a man came to purchase him, he realised he had been sold as a slave.
The first man to buy Luke was a water farmer, however his farm wasn’t located anywhere Luke was familiar with. He was trapped in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by other slaves and attack droids who watched his every move.
Life was miserable on the farm. He was beat, underfed and overworked. But later on down the line Luke would learn that back then he had it as easy as it could get.
Luke hated his life, and would often lay awake at night and curse himself for what had happened to him. He should have persuaded Uncle Owen to take him inside too, he should have fought back against his captors… Sometimes he would even curse his Uncle for leaving him outside at all. But Luke had waited outside buildings for his Uncle many times before, that one time he had just been unlucky.
In the beginning, Luke had hope that his Aunt and Uncle would come and rescue him, take him back home and never let him out of their sight ever again. But as the years went on Luke began to get less and less hopeful. As he got older, Luke started to despise his Aunt and Uncle. In his emotional mind they had let him be taken and never even bothered to rescue him.
But deep down the farm boy knew it wasn’t their fault. They had almost definitely been searching for him, they probably also lay awake at night wishing they had done something different. In the end Luke accepted it wasn’t their fault. Someone was sold as a slave every day on Tatooine, and Luke had just been one of the unlucky ones.
When he was 14 he was sold to an underground bar owner, and for 4 more years he was held captive and abused. Luke had finally began to accept that this was his life now. Nobody was coming to save him.
Luke was a slave, and that’s what he would be for the rest of his life.
When he was 18 a tall, muscular man walked into the bar. He had asked for the manager, and the two of them had disappeared into the back room.
His master called Luke into the room alongside them soon after.
Luke stood against the wall, his hands behind his back, shoulders slumped and eyes facing the concrete ground.
“Luke.” His master, a tall, blue twi’lek, spoke.
“Yes master?” Luke replied, compliantly, as he always did.
“This man here is called Shia. Please allow Shia to inspect you.”
“Of course master.”
Shia arose from his seat, slowly making his way over to Luke. He stood in front of the boy, inspecting him carefully. The man ran his hands over Luke’s shoulders and down his arms. He felt his face and his hips, and all Luke could do was stand there and allow him to do so.
“Is he to your liking?” His master asked.
“So far, yes.” Shia replied, continuing his inspection. “You said the boy was 18, correct?”
“Yes, he just turned 18 a few days ago.”
“I see.”
“Why, is that a problem?”
“Not at all, my friend.” The man grinned. “The more youthful the better, my clients say!”
“You are in luck then, Shia.” Luke’s master spoke, now also raising from his seat. “Not only has this boy just turned 18, but he has never been with anybody before, ever.”
“Ever?”
“Never.” His master replied, and Shia smirked.
His master seemed thrilled.
Luke had a feeling he knew what was going on, but he wasn’t totally sure. He didn’t know much about the outside world, having worked in an underground bar for the last four years of his life and on isolated farms for the 14 years before that.
He hoped that the feeling was incorrect. God, he really did.
“Is this true?” Shia questioned him, abruptly. Luke did not expect to be addressed.
“I-Is what true, sir?”
A slap hit him across the face.
“Have you ever had sex, slave?” Shia growled.
To Luke’s horror, he had guessed right.
“Never, sir.” Luke replied, almost instantly, not wanting to be hurt again.
“Good…” He continued with his inspection.
Moments later, his master and Shia had sat back down, and Luke supposed that they were discussing a price. When Shia rose back to his feet, he held a rope in his hands.
Luke felt his stomach turn at the sight. He was being sold again, but this time, as a sex slave.
“Hands.” Shia ordered, but Luke didn’t hear him at first. His stomach was turning, and he felt sick, oh so sick. Annoyed at being ignored, Shia grabbed Luke’s shoulders and shoved him onto his knees, grabbing his attention. “Hands, now, slave!”
Almost instantly, Luke held out his hands to the man, allowing him to tie his wrists together with the rope. The man let a part of it hang loose, which he held onto and tugged at it for Luke to rise to his feet.
The man reached down to his left ankle, releasing it from the ankle tag he had been forced to wear. He soon stood straight again, throwing it to the ground beneath Luke.
“Oh yes.” He grinned, eyeing Luke up and down again and cupping the boy’s cheek in his hand. Luke tried his hardest not to shiver in fear. “You will be popular.”
Luke felt tears brim in his eyes. He didn’t want to be a sex slave, the idea of having sex at all terrified him. But he didn’t cry. Deep down, he supposed he always knew that he’d end up here.
‘I find it hard to believe that a pretty boy like yourself isn’t in some sex house by now’ a customer had told him one day and over time, more customers had said relatively the same thing to him. Luke had always ignored them, the thought sending shivers down his spine.
But with the amount of customers who had said it, it was hard to believe that he wasn’t going to be sold into the sex industry one day.
And here he was, now, being led out of the bar that he had known for four years, about to become a sex slave. In his opinion, the worst type of slave.
As Shia dragged him up the steps at the back of the bar, a blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and a cloth was shoved into his mouth. He was thrown into the back of a speeder. A needle was pressed into his arm, and a sheet was thrown over his body.
A few seconds later, he passed out.