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Title: Jedi Utility Belt
Author: heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: Star wars, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Rating: NC-17
Warning: sub/Dom, bondage, improper recitation of the Jedi code.
Disclaimer: Please, I beg of you, never let George Lucas know I did this. I live in terror of a horde of ill-behaved storm troopers showing up on my door step demanding that honour be satisfied.
Dedication: salixbabylon gave me a lovely picspam for my birthday, and it... uh... inspired me. Thanks babe!
The Jedi Kink Series: Jedi Choice, Jedi Binding Tape, Jedi Boots, Padawan Braid, Jedi Utility Belt, Jedi Robes, Jedi Sash
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Jedi Utility Belt
First pouch: Flashlight. Bright white beam with seven programmable spread patterns and a built-in motion detector. Bright enough to blind at close distances. The room is already flooded with bright afternoon sunlight.
Flashlight goes on the chair.
Magnetic grappling hook with retractable durasteel cable. Leaves a red mark when pressed even gently to smooth, tender Padawan skin. Far too harsh. The chair.
Second Pouch: Small first aid kit. Several lengths of bandages and one adjustable sling. One packet of bacta gel. Very useful in case of injury, but tastes awful. Mini-scanner, useful for taking vital statistics such as pulse, blood pressure, approximate midichlorian count. Attachable probe for the scanner. One packet odourless, tasteless lubricant for the probe.
The bandages and lubricant go on the bedside table. Everything else is tossed on the chair.
On second thought, the probe might prove useful. Perhaps. But the chair is not too far. And the probe is too small to be of any real use. It can stay there for the time being.
Third pouch: Commlink. Useful for long-distance communication from ship to surface, across vast tracts of land, or inside from room-to-room, even through thick steel walls. The room is small and quite open-concept.
To the chair.
Lightsaber. Not applicable to the current situation, but a Jedi must be prepared for any eventuality.
The lightsaber goes on the bedside table.
The far side of the bedside table.
No need for paranoia.
Fourth and final pouch: Emergency food rations. Taste almost as bad as the bacta. Breathing apparatus, for underwater adventures. Not likely to be needed, unless… but the chair is on the way to the bath chamber, so everything sails across the room.
Evidently, there is not much useful equipment stored in a Jedi utility belt after all.
“Disrobe.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Everything off.”
“Of course, Master.”
“Hands at your sides.”
“With pleasure, Master.”
The empty utility belt goes around slender waist, elbows and gracefully curved lower back. The Master tightens the belt until the Padawan is securely bound..
“What is the purpose of this exercise, Padawan?”
“I asked when I would be issued a utility belt like yours, Master.”
Masterful fingers trace the lower edge of the belt and flick at a lovely young erection. “Mmm, and?”
“Ah… Master… you offered to show me why I was not ready for the equipment.”
The fingers stop moving. “Not quite, Padawan. I never said were not ready. I said you were too small.”
Master Qui-Gon Jinn slides his large hands over trapped forearms and around the back to the curve of buttock below the belt. “Too slender,” he murmurs, and strokes one hand down a smooth flank.
Hands clench against taut thighs, but there is no flinch when the Master moves behind, cups the perfect rear and squeezes.
“Bend over.”
Easier said than done, the Padawan discovers. The belt is tight, and holds elbows stiff, so arms point backward, creating a tight niche, between arms and exposed ass, into which the Master may step. When he is ready. First the master caresses. Explores. Opens the packet of lubricant. Tests.
Obi-Wan grunts, as would Qui-Gon if someone did that to him so suddenly. With three fingers, all at once.
“Master…”
“Hush, Padawan. This is no longer a lesson during which you speak.” Qui-Gon wraps one of the bandages around Obi-Wan’s head, making sure it settles firmly between lips.
As any Jedi Master worth his salt knows, the only thing better than a naked, bound and gagged Padawan if a naked, bound, gagged and blindfolded Padawan.
A second bandage fits snugly over wide grey eyes.
The Master steps into his place. Grips the edges of the belt. Allows his substantial cock to find its own way, force-assisted, inside the hot young body.
There is a lot to be said for mastering the best Padawan in the entire Jedi temple, Qui-Gon thinks to himself as he begins to fuck Obi-Wan in earnest.
“Do not soil my utility belt.”
Such an accomplished Padawan would never disobey such a direct order.
Hands slide down to hips. The Master fucks good and hard. Fingers dig into the sides of Qui-Gon’s thighs, urging him yet deeper. Grace under pressure. Composure under duress. So perfect.
There is no reason to hold back. Qui-Gon lets out a distinguished, quiet roar and empties his balls.
The belt releases easily. The blindfold comes off and Obi-Wan is blinking in the sunlight. The gag is soaked, and falls wetly to the floor.
“Recite the code.”
“There is no emotion; there is peace.”
The Master’s palm crushes hard cock to young, firm belly.
“There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.”
Sweat trickles down the Padawan’s chest.
“There is no passion; there is serenity.”
Fingers close around the swollen shaft.
“There is no…”
And tug.
“No chaos.”
And tighten.
“There is…”
A needy moan.
“Harmony!”
The fingers of the other hand flit around the tightening skin of the balls.
“There…”
Tickle the inner thighs.
“No death.”
Cup the balls and roll them.
“Force!”
A half dozen hot gushes.
“Close enough.” The Master lifts his soiled hand to soft Padawan lips. “You were under extreme duress.”
Grateful licks. Grateful for the release. Grateful for the opportunity to serve. Grateful that the exercise will not have to be repeated.
Arms open, and the Padawan is crushed against a broad chest.
“You see?” Qui-Gon pets velvety russet hair and strokes the now relaxed shoulders. Gently kisses the top of an ear. Accepts Obi-Wan’s affection. This moment of utter comfort is more than a reward.
“That particular belt is far too large for you.”
“On the contrary, Master. I think it fit your purposes perfectly.
The Padawan is a cheeky little bugger. But that suits the master. He’s been known to be cheeky himself.
For more Jedi kink, check out what Qui-Gon does with his Boots and his Padawan’s Braid
Go back to Star Wars
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