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He didn’t know where he was. It was dark, though maybe that was just the cloth covering his eyes. He could feel it pressing against his eyelids, taut over the bridge of his nose. More cloth was balled in his mouth, sucking up all the moisture, a strip wrapped between his teeth and around the back of his head, preventing him from spitting it out.
He squirmed on the flat, soft surface underneath him, coming to the realization that he was also cold and naked. His arms were stretched above his head, secured to a bar with rough cord knotted tightly around his wrists. His legs were spread and lashed down, though there was some give in the bindings there. His squirming turned to thrashing as he took in more and more of his situation and the danger he was in, but he was well and truly bound.
The Force did not come when he called for it. Out of his reach, a gaping, ravenous hole in his chest where it used to be.
He could feel the vibrations of a hyperdrive coming up through the bed he was on—it was a bed, that was not good—which told him he was on a ship, probably somewhere in space. It wasn’t the Negotiator, none of the bunks felt like this, but that only made his situation worse.
A noise nearby made him fall still, holding his breath. He turned his head in that direction, straining his ears. The sound of light footsteps tapped toward him, and then the mattress dipped under a weight. Obi-Wan clenched his hands into fists, biting into the gag as his chest tightened.
Even though he was expecting it at some level, the brush of warm, calloused fingers on his bare thigh startled him. The hand traveled up and stroked along the crease of his hip. Whoever it was climbed over his legs and settled between them and Obi-Wan tried to shove away and failed, the ropes around his limbs holding him in place.
Hands on his hips pulled him closer and he let out a distressed whimper before he could stop himself. There was no doubt where this was going. It was muffled by the gag, but they shushed him anyway, thumb running over his lips. He jerked his head away, and they stroked his cheek instead, fingers trailing down his neck to rest over his heart, playing with the hair on his chest.
Their other fingers traced a line down his cock, making him flinch and cut off a whine at the sensation, then dipped down to fondle his balls for a moment. He kicked out, ineffectually, caught by the cords around his ankles. They paused to press his leg to the mattress in warning. Their hand returned to scrape a fingernail down his taint, before pressing a thick finger into him.
He arched his back, letting out a cry, even though it didn’t hurt. It was uncomfortable though, his rim sticking and dragging on the intrusion.
Obi-Wan shook his head, growing desperate. Why were they doing this to him? Who even were they?
“Stop!” He tried to shout, but the word was garbled by the cloth in his mouth.
They responded by shoving a second finger into him. Now it began to burn, their fingers twisting and scissoring as they opened him up. They began to rub at his walls, their fingers crooked, until they found the spot within him that made lightning shoot up his spine, his head thrown back as he stifled another cry. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but clench down as they massaged him firmly, tears beading in his eyes as unwanted arousal grew in his gut like a weed.
Their other hand moved from his chest to grab his chin and yank his face up. Lips captured his in a harsh kiss, teeth nipping at his lower lip until it stung and bled. He tried to bite back, but they dug into the hinge of his jaw and squeezed tighter, preventing him from closing it until they were done.
There was a click like a cap opening, and then the two fingers inside him became three, covered in lube, and he whined at the painful stretch, struggling again. They didn’t care, continuing to thrust in and out until they sank all the way to their knuckles, spreading him wide as they went back to kissing him.
He clenched his fingers around the rope, the need to hold on to something, anything, overwhelming him. It hurt less now, the addition of the lube soothing the burning friction of bare skin and aiding the slick slide of fingers. They pressed against his prostate again and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. His cock began to fill against his will, and they noticed, pulling away from his mouth and sneaking their hand down between them to stroke at his half-hard length, making him sob.
Their mouth latched around his nipple and began to suck and bite at the sensitive nub, swirling their tongue around the areola and sending zinging arousal straight to his cock. Their stubble scratched at his skin, almost pleasantly. Obi-Wan shook, yanking at his hands as if he could free himself enough to push them away. It didn’t work, of course.
They continued to assault him on three fronts, and he was helpless against it. He could only writhe and hold back whimpers underneath them.
His cock was achingly hard now, on the edge of release, his balls tightening and gut clenching. He was so hot he trembled, sweat dripping from his pores. They switched to the other nipple and he couldn’t hold on any longer, control slipping from his grasp as he came all over his chest with a cry, cock pulsing in their hand. They moved their head out of the way just in time and granted him mercy, withdrawing their fingers from his ass and letting go of his penis. He slumped into the mattress, panting, praying it was over, but then they scooped up the cum from his stomach and smeared it across his lips, dipping inside so that all he could taste was his own bitter, slightly salty cum as it soaked into the cloth and across his tongue. They fed him cum until there was nothing but wet streaks left on his chest.
“You like that, Jedi?” They said in a very familiar voice, speaking for the first time. Obi-Wan’s blood froze. That was a clone. He didn’t know who, still, but that was a clone. “Yeah, I thought you might. Look at you, whore.”
Obi-Wan wanted to throw up. He turned his head to the side, burying his face in his arm, and waited for the next thing they would do to him.
They didn’t move, sitting there silently and his heart beat faster behind his ribs as he shivered.
A clone. Who? The last thing he remembered was… he was with Cody, on patrol, they had, separated for something and then… nothing. He clawed at the memories, trying to find the smallest bit of recollection and coming up empty-handed.
He didn’t think it was Cody at least, clone voices had subtle differences and he was sure he could recognize Cody’s anywhere.
They were watching him, he could feel it, and it made him nervous. He couldn’t help but tense his muscles in preparation for something. He didn’t know what was going on and it terrified him. Fingers trailed down his thigh and he flinched, his breath catching in his chest. He held it as they leaned over him towards something at the side of the bed. The sound of a drawer opening was loud in his ears.
He couldn't tell what they took out, only hearing the gentle clink of metal before they closed the drawer again.
A hand reached for his now soft dick, fed his cock and balls through a metal ring, and then latched a cage shut around his penis. Spikes on the inside of the bars dug into his sensitive skin. He bit down on the gag.
But they weren’t done yet.
They took two large clamps and attached them to his balls, crushing them between the duraplast jaws, and he screamed because it hurt more than anything that had been done to him so far. He cut off the sound immediately, shaking with the effort, but it was too late, they had heard. They jammed a knee between his thighs and pressed hard against his groin, the spiked cage cutting into his flesh, the pressure on his balls becoming unbearable and he let out a choked whimper.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” the clone said, their voice low and sultry. “Don’t worry, it will get worse.”
Pulling his hips towards them until his arms were stretched to their limit, they tilted his pelvis up and lifted his throbbing genitals against his belly. A finger pushed into his anus, quickly followed by two more.
“What do you think? Should I try four fingers or let you feel my cock?”
His response of, “please, don’t,” was lost in the cum-soaked fabric of the gag.
“We could try to go up to five fingers, I bet you could take my whole fist, couldn’t you. But I think we’ll save that for next time.”
Obi-Wan felt a hint of relief, and then fear—next time?—but then the fingers pulled out and the head of a slick cock was pressing at his rim and he tried to fight again but their hands gripped his thighs hard enough to bruise and held him still as they shoved in. He keened, his back bowing as the thick cock split him open.
He had seen some of the clone’s cocks before, it was impossible not to see more than you wanted to when living and fighting in such close quarters, and he knew they were big, but this felt like they were shoving their entire arm into him, it filled him up so completely but it hurt, all the way up his spine. When he tried to push out with his pelvic muscles it slid in more easily instead.
“Knew you wanted it.” He could hear the sick grin in their voice as they thrust in further.
He managed to hold back the ashamed tears that wanted to fall, and the accompanying sob, by the skin of his teeth.
One more thrust had their pelvises flush, the clone entirely buried in his body, and Obi-Wan aching and trembling and gasping for air.
“Feel so good around my cock, Kenobi,” they groaned. “Like you were made for it.”
And then they began to fuck him in earnest. Hard. Fast. Like they were trying to fuck their way through him and Obi-Wan couldn’t—he couldn’t take it—he was—it hurt, please—stop—stop—stop stop stop stop—
They gripped his thighs and spread him open more, the cord straining to hold his ankles, pulling at his ligaments and tendons so hard that sharp pain raced through his legs, but he could barely feel it over the slam of hips into his, bruises layered with violence left in the wake, the spikes cutting into him as his cock bounced and every bump intensifying the ache in his balls, and the cock that pierced him sent agony shooting up his spine—
Stop stop stop stop stop—
They drove his body into the mattress, the bed creaking underneath them with the force of it, and Obi-Wan was helpless to do anything but jerk along with the brutal rhythm, his body entirely out of his control as he was jounced back and forth with nothing to hold onto, no anchor in the storm, just hot, sweaty skin and pain and the grunts and groans of the clone above him echoing in his ears, his own cries a distant thing, he couldn’t breathe, every thrust knocking the air out of him, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t—
Stop—
Their hips stuttered and rammed in a final time as their teeth found purchase on his collarbone, making him cry out. They moaned loudly and everything went still.
“Fuck, jetii,” they said against his skin.
They kissed him again, and he could taste his own blood on their lips and tongue as they invaded his mouth. He pulled away weakly, his head still reeling and they swiftly backhanded him across the cheek, then grabbed his jaw and kissed him harder. Obi-Wan let them, the last of his energy exhausted.
“Best lay I ever had. And the best part is, I get paid to give you what you fucking deserve.”
He turned his head when they released him, utterly humiliated and violated. His lungs still hitched from the aftershocks.
A hand stroked his cheek and he twitched fearfully, expecting more violence, but it didn’t come. They brushed his damp, sweaty hair off his forehead, gently caressing his face, before kissing the cloth at the corner of his mouth and sitting up. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to think of it.
They rolled their hips one last time before they pulled out and Obi-Wan winced at the twinge of pain and the feeling of warm fluids leaking out of his anus, what was probably a mixture of blood, lube, and cum staining the bedsheets.
They removed the clamps on his balls, gently fondling his tender sack before squeezing hard. Obi-Wan let out a pained noise, legs tugging against the ropes as he tried to pull them up for protection. For a moment, he thought they would take the cock cage off as well, but they only examined it before leaving it on.
Two fingers slipped into his ruined hole and he jerked, half a whimper escaping him as they found his prostate and massaged it again.
He writhed, uselessly, helplessly, as arousal began to awaken in him again.
“Wait, I have just the thing for this.”
They reached into the drawer and brought something out, Obi-Wan feeling a stirring of dread at not knowing what it was. He heard the slick sounds of a shaft getting lubed up and then something was pressing into him and he sobbed out a muffled, “No!”
The plug slid in all the way to the base and the clone twisted and turned it, situating it up against the damned spot inside him.
And then they turned it on.
Obi-Wan’s entire body spasmed as if he’d been struck by lightning, the shock going straight to his dick. Stars erupted in his vision, a breathless shout broke free, and his cock jumped and started to swell. That’s when the pain hit.
He strained against his bonds, thrashing, whining as his cock throbbed in exquisite agony, a prisoner of the bands of spiked metal that encased it. They dug into his sensitive flesh and he could feel the blood trickling from little wounds, smearing red on silver.
“Enjoy, whore.”
They left him there like that, and he did not know where they went.
He finally let himself cry, his struggles becoming weaker and weaker, until he could do nothing but lay there pathetically, tears soaking the blindfold and pain and pleasure coursing through his body.
“Hey there, Kenobi,” a voice said, filtering through the haze.
The next thing that filtered through was the feeling of a hand on his arm, stroking his skin.
His whimper was nothing more than a hint of breath.
“Oh, you’re out of it, aren’t you.”
A tap of fingers on his cheek was enough to turn his head towards whoever it was. The hand trailed down his jaw and neck, then over to his collarbone, and there was a spark of pain as they pressed down.
Weight settled between his legs, and then…
It stopped. The all-consuming pain. The stale arousal. The two still mingled in his stomach, buzzing like flies, but they were fading away into a deep ache.
Obi-Wan took a deep, full breath for the first time in hours.
He groaned and shifted on the bed, now that he could feel his body again, the plug inside him shifting too. Everything hurt. His limbs tingled unpleasantly, and the faint impression of vibration traveled up his spine. His cock had stopped trying to grow hard at some point, but the endless sensation from the toy inside him had left him painfully overstimulated. He was thirsty, he realized. Incredibly so. And his mouth tasted like something had died in it, somehow dry even though the cloth inside it was damp. He also had to pee.
A hand landed on his hip and he twitched and then outright flinched when they stabbed a hypo into his thigh.
“Force suppressors,” the clone said. “Can’t have you getting any ideas.”
The mention of the Force made him reach, but it was predictably gone from him, no matter how far he stretched his mind. Another hand—why so many—no, just two—tracing a scar on his ribs from when he was seventeen and got himself slashed with a vibroblade brought him back.
“You have almost as many scars as I do, Jedi. What are the stories behind them, I wonder?” They leaned in close, both hands now sliding over his chest. “I’m going to enjoy adding some more.”
Alarm shot through him, but his body barely responded to his commands, his limbs heavy and weak as he unsuccessfully attempted to struggle.
His rapist sat back up and a moment later he felt the edge of a blade set against his skin, low on his hip. Panic made him kick out, despite the leadenness of his muscles, and the clone pinned his leg and then shifted to kneel on his groin.
Obi-Wan screamed as they crushed the cage into his cock and onto his still sore balls. The smallest movement sent immense pain rippling through him so he held as still as he could, even when they went back to cutting into him.
They began to carve into his flesh, blood flowing freely as they sliced deep lines into his skin—letters, those were—it was a word, but the pain was all blending together into a mass of throbbing agony stretching from hipbone to belly button, and he couldn’t tell what it said.
His blindfold was soaked with tears by the time they finished, he didn’t know how he wasn’t out of them at this point. His jaw ached from clenching it so hard.
“Now everyone will know what you are,” they said, setting aside the knife, but not elaborating any more than that.
Obi-Wan rolled his head to the side as they stroked their hands down his sides to his thighs, smearing through blood. They shifted their knee off his crotch and he breathed out in relief.
It was short-lived as they spread his legs a little more.
Please, not again.
The ship Obi-Wan assumed they were on juddered, and the clone swore and got off the bed. He heard their footsteps leave the room.
The knife was right there. Obi-Wan could feel the hilt bumping his leg. He struggled, twisting and tugging at the cords binding him, some of his energy returning to him in a burst of adrenaline. The only thing he succeeded at was worsening his rope burns. He huffed and thumped his head back on the mattress. Despair rose in his gut.
Another thunk rattled the ship, and the footsteps came pounding back in.
The clone was cursing under their breath, grabbing something from the other side of the room. A moment later, Obi-Wan heard the whine of a blaster charging.
Voices sounded from outside, and one of them… one of them was Cody’s.
Obi-Wan gave a muffled shout through the gag, fighting to free himself again.
Bootsteps came closer, and then the sound of a blaster firing, and then a scuffle, two people grunting and grappling with each other. He heard them slam into the wall, and someone yelled, “Commander!”, and then the zing of another blaster bolt and the thud of a body hitting the floor.
Obi-Wan’s heart was lodged in his throat, pounding a rhythm he could feel in his ears, and then someone choked out, “General,” and a desperate noise escaped him, and there were hands there, pulling the blindfold off. He blinked his eyes open to see Cody there, gloved hands cupping his face and he whined, feeling himself start to shake.
“Get his ankles,” Cody said to someone over his shoulder, and then turned back to Obi-Wan to undo the gag. At the foot of the bed, Boil started unknotting the rope around his ankles. “Waxer, are we clear?”
“He’s dead, Commander.”
Obi-Wan spat out the wad of cloth once the strip was gone and then looked up at his Commander and croaked out, “Cody.”
“We’ve got you, sir, it’s alright.”
“Cody—”
“Right here, sir, let me just…”
Cody sliced through the cord tying him to the bar with a vibroblade, freeing his hands, and he immediately tried to sit up, only for the plug in his ass to prod uncomfortably against his insides. He collapsed back onto the bed.
“Cody, get it out,” he sobbed. Damn his tears, there was no reason for him to start crying now.
“Get what—”
Obi-Wan reached between his now freed legs, trying to pull on the base of the plug but his hands were suddenly trembling and he couldn’t get a grip.
“Woah, hold on a moment, let’s let Fixit do that. He’s right outside, I’ll call him in.”
“No, get it out,” he gasped desperately. “And the—the—take it off, please, Cody.”
“Move over,” a voice said and Obi-Wan flinched, because it sounded too much like his captor when he wasn’t expecting it.
But it’s just Fixit, there with his medcase slung over his shoulder, his expression stern as always as he pushed Cody aside. He gently took Obi-Wan’s wrists and pulled his hands away from the cock cage.
“Leave that alone, sir, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Fixit, get it off,” he begged.
“I’d prefer to do that in the medbay, sir, once I’ve gotten some scans.”
“Please.”
Fixit paused, meeting his pleading, desperate, teary eyes, and his lips thinned.
“Alright,” he said. “Give me a second. Let me stop this bleeding first.”
Oh. The knife wounds. Right.
He swung his case off his shoulder and set it on the bed by Obi-Wan’s leg, opening it up and grabbing out an antiseptic wipe and a bacta patch. He cleaned up the still, bleeding lacerations and then plastered the patch over Obi-Wan’s side.
“Are you bleeding anywhere else?”
Obi-Wan shook his head. Fixit reached into his medcase again and pulled out a tube of something. Lube, it turned out. He carefully unlatched the cage and worked the ring off with the help of the lube, Obi-Wan biting his hand, trying not to flinch and make Fixit’s job harder.
Finally, it was off and Obi-Wan let out a sob of relief.
“Okay?” Fixit asked.
“The—the other, please—”
“I’ll get it. Let me finish up here first.”
He took out another wipe and cleaned up the blood and lube on Obi-Wan’s dick, before wrapping it in bacta bandages.
“All done. I need you to relax.”
Obi-Wan nodded and tried his best.
Deep breaths.
Fixit grasped the base of the plug. He rubbed lube over and past Obi-Wan’s rim, pausing when Obi-Wan flinched and tensed.
“Relax, sir, I’m not going to hurt you.”
He breathed in, and out, and forced his muscles to loosen. Fixit gently pulled on the plug, just hard enough to put pressure on his hole.
“I need you to push as though you were defecating.”
Obi-Wan took another breath and then pushed, and Fixit pulled, and the plug slid out bit by bit. Jaw clenched, eyes squeezed closed, Obi-Wan endured the stretch once more, whimpering only a little, until the plug slipped out in one smooth movement.
The tears sprang to his eyes again, and he covered them with his hand, trembling, drawing his legs up as he curled in on himself.
“Very good, General. Ready to get out of here?”
“Please,” he croaked out.
Fixit unfolded his stretcher, and though Obi-Wan would hate nothing more than to be carried to the medbay, trying to stand resulted in the medic having to catch him as his legs crumpled beneath him, and he conceeded that perhaps it was for the best.
“Here,” Boil said, throwing a blanket he’d found over Obi-Wan’s battered form.
Obi-Wan gave him a grateful smile. He resolutely did not flinch at the clone’s voice.
“Thank you, Boil.”
Boil was still wearing his helmet, so Obi-Wan couldn’t see his expression, but he dipped his head in acknowledgement. Together, he and Fixit lifted the stretcher and started for the medbay.
Cody didn’t move to go with them, and Obi-Wan looked at him, a question on his face.
“I have to stay here, sir. Deal with this. I’ll join you later.
“You don’t have to,” Waxer said, from where he was still standing guard over the body. “I can handle it.”
The Commander shook his head.
“Better if I do it. Considering we just killed the Prime.”
The stretcher jostled as it bumped into Boil where he had suddenly stopped walking and Fixit had not.
“Jango Fett?” Fixit asked. “Isn’t he dead?”
“Presumed dead,” Obi-Wan murmured, feeling… something, he wasn’t sure what. He was rapidly approaching a breaking point of numb exhaustion. “No one knew what happened to him after he was injured on Geonosis.”
“Right, while you get that figured out, I am going to take my patient to the medbay,” Fixit said. “Ready, sir?”
“I would like to go home now,” was Obi-Wan’s far too candid answer, one he didn’t mean to voice.
“Yes, sir.”
They started off again, leaving Cody and Waxer behind with Fett’s corpse.
Obi-Wan could feel himself sliding further and further towards unconsciousness, clinging on by the barest breadth with his fingertips.
And then… he…
Slipped.
Consciousness came crashing back in with the awareness of hands on him and the voice of his captor saying, “Can you get me the—”
He flailed and there were immediately shouts and more hands, holding him down, as he almost toppled off whatever surface he was on. Panic made a scream catch in his throat as he tried to throw them off. He reached for the Force to aid him, and it didn’t come.
“General! Calm down, it’s alright.” His frantic eyes found Fixit’s face above him, and it was enough to make him sink back onto the medcot, panting, his burst of energy expended. Boil let go of him, now that he was no longer in danger of falling. “You’re safe now,” the medic said. “We’re on the Negotiator. We were just trying to treat your injuries.”
“Sorry,” he replied, his voice rough.
“Don’t.” Fixit shook his head. “Please, don’t do that, General. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Now let me disinfect this bite.”
Obi-Wan took stock of himself. His entire body was aching—muscles sore, genitals throbbing, ass raw. His head hurt. The bite mark on his collarbone stung as Fixit cleaned it and smoothed on a bacta patch. He had an IV line in his arm and a cardiopulmonary sensor on his sternum. His wrists were already bandaged. So were the knife wounds across his pelvis and his penis.
The blanket covered his lower half, at least.
“How bad?” He asked the medic.
“Cuts and bruises. Some of them will scar, unfortunately.”
Obi-Wan could guess which ones.
“What does it say?”
Fixit hesitated, his mouth twisting in an angry grimace.
“Whore.”
It took a breath and a swallow to rid himself of the knot in his throat before he could say anything after that.
“I see.”
“It’s deep, so I used stitches, but it will heal with bacta. It’s better that you don’t move around too much so you don’t rip anything and to reduce scarring.”
He nodded.
Fixit moved down to his feet and began to bandage the rope burns on his ankles. When he was done with that he sighed.
“Now for the uncomfortable part. Sorry, sir. Lift your hips for me.” When Obi-Wan obeyed, he slid a towel underneath him. “Now, I need you to turn on your side and bend your knees.”
Obi-Wan did so reluctantly.
“Thank you, sir,” Fixit said. Then he grabbed a tube of bacta gel, a bottle of something, and something else. “I am going to squirt this solution into your rectum to clean it out. I will then insert an anoscope into your anus so I can get a look at the tears in there. Once that’s done, I will use my fingers to spread some bacta on them. Are you okay with this?”
“Okay,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice only trembling slightly.
Fixit lifted the blanket and began his work. Obi-Wan was tense, his fingers digging into the cot, his eyes squeezed shut, and his jaw clenched.
“General,” someone said, and his eyes flew open to find Boil standing there. The trooper put his hand on his shoulder, offering him comfort. He grasped Boil’s hand and turned his head toward him, trying desperately to ignore the sensations down below.
“All done,” Fixit finally said. Obi-Wan relaxed as the fingers in him pulled out. “You can put your legs down.”
He did, and Fixit adjusted the blanket so it was covering his feet. Then he stripped out of his gloves and tossed them away and packed up his medcase.
“Can I shower?” Obi-Wan asked.
“Boil can help with a sponge bath. The bandages are waterproof.”
Obi-Wan slumped but nodded. He would have preferred a shower but honestly he just wanted to be clean.
Fixit stepped away and brought back the things they needed, and Boil began to bathe him gently.
Cody came in eventually, and helped, toweling him off once Boil scrubbed him clean. He didn’t say anything about Fett, and Obi-Wan didn’t ask.
When they were done, they helped Obi-Wan get under the sheets and spread the blanket over him. Now that he no longer had dried cum and blood all over him, Obi-Wan was feeling much better, and exhaustion was creeping over him.
“Rest, General,” Cody said. “Everything is alright.”
Obi-Wan allowed his eyes to close and sleepily murmured, “Stay?”
Cody took his hand and squeezed lightly.
“Of course, sir. I’m right here.”
Assured in his safety, Obi-Wan let himself fall into sleep.