A Kind of Genesis

by Anna ([email protected])

Part 1/???
This is my first story like this and the author is a very nervous camper....be gentle with her, fellow fen.
Rating: NC17 ---BE WARNED --- this is dark fiction and includes rape and violence.
Category: AU.

Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are captured by Xanatos

Feedback: I would be interested to know your feelings on this one, as its my first posting to a list ever, and the darkest thing I've ever done.
Spoilers: None for TPM; it does involve Xanatos from the Jedi Apprentice books
Disclaimer: All respect to George Lucas, copyright holder and no monies come from my efforts.
Archive: m_a, TBC, others please ask
Bad manners on my part to forget to thank Maygra and Calm Jedi for their help - Maygra is a true Tasker Master who made me try harder, and Calm Jedi gave me confidence. Thank you both very much, and my continued affection and thanks for the support of my best bud, Mac.

I believed I could bear anything, that no scar would lay upon me unhealed. All of my life's decisions I have accepted, but one. And it remains on my soul, remains to this day, coming to me in the middle of the night sometimes and nothing I do will completely heal it. Damn him.



Obi-Wan and I had been to Corellia to try and make some headway in the current rash of pirate raids. We'd been expected but at the time I wasn't even surprised that an official aircar hadn't been at the starport to take us to the local Jedi enclave. Yes, it was overconfidence - who would attack two Jedi in the middle of a busy city? So we'd called a handy private cab and had no more that settled into the seats when a hidden stunner lashed out and took the both of us so totally by surprise..

And when I woke, I was in pain and alone. Two metal chains fixed to the wall and attached to bracelets around my wrists had me suspended with feet barely touching the floor. However long I'd been there, my weight had hung on those chains.and the pain from torn and burning muscles, twisted joints and hands gone blue from lack of circulation.the pain was terrible. I pushed upwards, biting my lips, tasting blood as I tried to take some of the weight - and the moment I moved my shoulders every muscle in my back cramped and went into spasm. I whimpered like a child, gasping as wave after wave cramped its way over my spine.

It isn't easy to concentrate and relax when every part of your chest and back is screaming its abuse to your brain. There was, however, one way I could think of to gain some relief Shutting out some of the misery, I visualised myself floating.lifting from the floor..and as I did lift I felt for the link and sensed Obi-Wan somewhere close, alive at least.

But the other shocking thing it revealed to me was the presence of another Force user aboard. A very familiar one.

Xanatos.

There had to be someway out of this - not letting my concentration waver, I looked around the room, hoping to find something I could will to me, to break the chains. But it was empty, except for a small sealed storage cabinet against one wall. The metal walls and floor radiated chill and the air stank of some stale, decayed odour. I had, all in all, been in better places.

As I swung back around on the chain to try and break it the door opened behind me and Xanatos entered. I twisted back and pushed against the wall, bracing myself but I began to lose touch with the Force in the face of Xanatos' hate. Without saying a word his presence was a condemnation, and the pleasure he felt sensing my pain was obvious.

As usual, he had a flair for the dramatic. Black clothing to match his dark hair, to highlight his pale skin. He studied me as well, matching me stare for stare and when he spoke, his voice was a deep, satisfied whisper.

"I've been looking forward to your waking, Qui-Gon."

He'd always had a habit of slipping into the melodramatic. "I'm pleased for you."

Xanatos studied me with calm intent, the dark blue eyes bright in the pale, scared face. "I used you call me Master. I want to hear you do the same for me. I want you to call me Master."

"Sadly, not everything we wish for in life comes true."

The pale features twitched into a smile. "Jedi arrogance won't help you, not here. Sometime soon when the pain has become too much, you'll say and do whatever you need say to ease it." And if," he continued, as he'd turned towards away, "you attempt to draw on the Force to aid you, I shall have my servants cut out your padawan's heart and present it to you on a cushion."

It was the sort of coersion I'd been expecting and I made no answer, denying him a response. While I would do whatever was needed to protect Obi-Wan, I was damned if I would give Xanatos the pleasure of sensing my concern. But I dared not ignore it, and I let the Force slip away as I dropped back to the floor.

He glided forward to stand very close, so close that I could smell the sour odour of his breath. Leather slid over skin as he drew on a pair of black, unusual gloves, with the ends of the fingers tipped with small sharp claws. Those artificially clawed hands touched my shoulders and twisted me around around on the chain I was pressed to the cold metal wall. The hands slid down my back and around my waist, slowed at the groin then moved up to undo the clips of my belt. Belt and sash dropped to the floor and I must admit I flinched as my tunics were torn from hem to neck, the two parts left hanging from my arms.

One gloved hand stroked down my back, the claws trailing lightly over the skin. They stopped at the top of my pants, hooked themselves inside and pulled them down, leaving them tanged around my ankles.

I had never been particularly prudish but I admit I had the awakenings of vulnerability, standing there with the cold air chilling my skin. Xanatos had stepped away and I heard the rustle of material and leather. I managed to turn his head and as I did Xanatos was stripping, folding his clothing with restrained neatness and placing it on the floor near the door.

He watched me, motionless for a time, wearing only a pair of briefs, before he turned to the storage locker behind him. He returned with a black rod from which hung two long strips of leather tipped with a steel barb. Gathering the strips of the whip, he ran them through his long fingers.. "This is called a Tasker. When wielded properly, it can shred the skin in precise equidistant strips."

The thongs swung lazily, the metal tips brushed against my side, in rhythm with his voice and I didn't know which one was more chilling "I consider myself something of an artist with the Tasker. Let me introduce it to you - you will come to know each other very well." And he drew back his arm and struck with all his strength behind the blow. It hurt. Razor-edged pain, a tearing snap across the width of my back and into my right shoulder. It was impossible not to have some reaction, to hide or call back the small moan that skittered out between my clenched teeth. I wanted to deny him the pleasure of hearing me cry out. I wanted what it was impossible for me to have -- some kind of control over my own reactions. Each breath ended with a sob, each blow triggered a grotesque dance as I tried helplessly to push myself through the wall, to push away from the relentless cutting blows.

He worked his way into a rhythm then; strike, gather the thongs, flip them back and strike again. They blended together in a growing pattern; after the tenth I could feel Xanatos' deliberate placing of each blow, touching the spikes to a different area; one to the shoulder, one on the buttocks, one in the middle of the back. Nerves on fire, I was both hot and cold as shock began to take its toll. I was shivering, the moans coming with a sort of stoccato hiccup matching the blows.

I could have used the Force, could have drawn on it to smother the pain.but Xanatos was expectant, his own Force sensitivity watching me like some predatory beast. I didn't dare. Didn't dare risk Obi-Wan's life for my own ease.

He finally stopped slicing open my back and pulled me around. But the relief was momentary; the thongs of the whip hissed as they sailed by my face, and I could see it now as it hit. The leather was shiny with my blood, and bits of skin hung from the spikes. And it was harder as well to hide the pain from him, now that he could see my face.

He took pleasure in his precision, almost as much as he did with the pain. I was learning even then, learning about pain, the sort of bone-deep, through-to-the-centre anguish I'd never known. And I started thinking of dying..

Between the bright flashing anguish I could see his face; it was peaceful, serene. Whatever the Dark Force was, it worked very differently from my own gentler version. To find such peace in another's trevail was an abomination.

When he'd finished, finally, he'd flayed almost every inch of my skin and reduced me to a shaking mess. He stood back to observe his handiwork. I could sense every inch of my skin, could feel the blood dripping to the floor down my sides and legs. If I closed my eyes I could number every touch, remember every blow, branded in mind and body by his hunger.

Xanatos curled the whip and dropped it to the ground, stepped forward and grabbed a handful my blood-matted hair, pulling my head back to look into my eyes, apparently pleased by what he saw there. He stepped forward, pushing me back against the wall, pressing his chest to me, smiling as I winced when the torn mess of my back hit the cold wall.

I watched him lower his head and kiss the shattered skin of my shoulder, felt the hot tongue lap up the blood that had pooled on my collarbone, sensed his pleasure at the taste. Strong arms wrapped around me, pushing the hair back, as he whispered against my skin.

"You only need to ask me. To stop. Just ask. Nicely."

I hissed my hate at him and he laughed. "Shall I take that as a negative? You're as stubborn as I remember. But I'm a lot more persistant than I was. With a different set of....appetites......" He reached up to the chains and pulled me around to face the wall, forcing my head back so that he could see my face, and rotated his hips, pressing himself to my torn back skin and the I could feel the swollen...

Yes, that was what he had in mind, of course. Leather covered fingers trailed around my back and into the cleft of my buttocks, the leather slick with blood.

"Tell me, have you fucked your padawan yet? He looks as if he'd like you to - the way I always wanted to fuck you.."

He was vile, the simple touch of his hand a defilement. And he smiled at my revulsion and pushed his fingers inside me, studying me for reaction.

I screamed then, control wiped away, for he still had his gloves on and the blades on the tip of it cut into the tender parts inside me, ripping through skin and muscle as he stroked me almost gently. The sound of my agony enflamed him, I could feel his erection growing behind me but all I could do was feel and and sob, all control gone.

Then a second finger joined the first and I passed out again. This time, however, the darkness was brief: I was jolted awake by the even greater pain of penetration as he thrust his engorged penis in through the torn ring of muscle.

It was more than an invasion, it was a hell. Every bit of energy I had left I used to try and fight him, to push and kick, to drag myself away from that impalement. But each surging movement, each shuddering moan only enflamed Xanatos even more and the driving pressure increased until he was pumping deeply into me and I could feel the sharp tear of skin and muscle, the impossible stretching pressure. And all the time he groaned his pleasure, thrusting and withdrawing, pushing in further until he was stopped by his own body pressed flush against my arse...and even then it seemed as if it wasn't deep enough, close enough...that he wanted more.

He talked to me, reached to me, entwining me in the Dark, meshing his lust with my pain, his passion with my growing hate until I couldn't tell the one from the other.

"Can ..you feel.me.inside.Qui-Gon? I'm.so.hard..so big..your arse feels..so good..Oh yes..." He groaned louder, swivelling his hips, searching out some part of me that he hadn't defiled. He slowed then, eased back from the edge of orgasm so as to extend his pleasure. I was barely conscious by then, held up only by the chains and Xanatos' hands, and the pain that had become so much a part of me that I was almost accustomed to it .Finally, sobbing like a child with my face pressed to the cold wall, I knew I was beaten. There was simply nowhere to go inside myself that he hadn't touched, and no strength left to give to pride.

I simply stopped fighting it, as abused muscled gave out and I sagged against him. I had nothing left to use, even the Force seemed to have deserted me; except for the the bright hot power waiting just at the edge of my need.and all I had to do was reach out for it and I could..---

Xanatos sensed the surrender, sensed how close I was to turning, and drove into me again, pushing against the last restraints that held me grounded to the Light, tasting my agony with an an almost equal pleasure to that which came to him from the abuse of my body. Amongst all the other bright pinpoints of misery the feel of his clawed gloves digging into my hips were a tiny thing, and insignificance.

His whisper cut through all the noises in my head, a whip blow, a breath away from madness. "To hurt you is wonderful, to take you from the Light is devine...and to watch you betray your padawan's trust will be the best of all...." It was too much, a final abuse, a point at which torture and despair were equally matched. Desperation, Yoda had never mentioned desperation. I let the fire fill me, it was so easy, changing from one to the other as if a door had opened and I threw myself through it. I grabbed the chains in my hand and as he screamed in climax and focused my hate on the metal and it snapped away from the wall.

I spun around, staggering, almost tripped by the clothing twisted around my feet, and swung the chains at Xanatos' head. Somehow he evaded them, leaping backwards, arms up in an instinctive cross-armed defensive move...I had taught him that...there was even a moment for pride in his dexterity that wasn't swallowed by furious heat.

And then he stopped and spread his arms wide, turning his palms upwards, locking his eyes to mine. I had almost over-balanced but somehow I kept my to my feet, watching those dark, beautiful eyes growing moist with some unfathomable emotion.

"You want to destroy me, Qui-Gon? Kill me then. You have the right if anyone does. And then Kenobi will die and you will probably kill yourself. End it for all of us."

Whatever energy I'd managed to dredge up deserted me then and my legs buckled and I fell onto my knees. As I began to topple backwards Xanatos was behind me, catching me, lowering my head onto his lap. I looked up into the pale, marked face, my vision swimming in and out of focus and felt him touch my face. He'd taken off the gloves and his skin was warm and surprisingly soft.

"You'll stay with me now, won't you Qui-Gon? You won't leave me again."

And then everything went black finally, and I passed out.



Could I have killed him? To this day I'm not sure. I had enough pain and anger in me to shatter steel but the idea of using that power against him didn't occur to me. Something made the choice for me and I was as a child within its grasp, with little will of my own.

It was a kind of genesis, but as always where the Dark is concerned, something had to die to give it birth.

To be continued