The Jedis's Slave: Training
The sweat drop rolled down her nose. She hated PT. Her young body was in fantastic shape, but that seemed to motivate her trainer to push her further. Padawan hell, she felt like a pack mule. The mental exercises were ridiculously easy – they had not even started to push her capacity, though she was careful not to let anyone know that. And then there were the bullshit things, taught by those who couldn’t do, so they taught: the unfailing courtesy with which Jedi were expected to respond; the haiku-like chants; and the geopolitical knowledge to help run a republic spanning their part of the galaxy. She sighed. It was hard, but she was making progress. And she had been made a special case. She had gotten what she wanted
She and Jar Gon looked at each other across the bed. She had dropped in a fit of exhaustion.
“Well according to all accounts you are doing well, Padawan”
She knew he called her that just to tease her.
“Yes Master, err Yes Master Jedi – is that better?”
“Yes little one – I’m never sure which role you’re playing at the moment.”
He smiled, and her heart beat faster. She reached over to him, longing for his touch.
“You know, although you are a slave, some people from the lesser developed planets would probably treat you as a god.”
He rolled over and positioned himself above her. She felt the arousal rise as he entered her.
“In God we thrust”