Obi-wan was spent. He and his master had gone the last few days with next to no sleep. Between travel and taking care of the youngling they had plucked from that arid junkyard, among their various other duties and slaying a Sith lord in the midst of it, the days had blended together in what seemed to be eternity. Finally at long last they arrived home. After a routine debriefing with the council he would be able to go home and get some much needed rest.

With the exhaustion settling in, Obi-wan admittedly had a hard time following the conversation, but he knew the gist of it already. Qui-gon was adamant that Anakin be trained. The council had their reservations. Obi-wan found that he couldn't much care, all he wanted was to be dismissed to go sleep. It wasn't so much that he felt tired, after a certain point one no longer really felt tired. It was more of a heaviness that settled in over the body, a fog over the mind. Obi-wan was indeed feeling both of those things. The incessant chattering between the council and Qui-gon was beginning to rake on his fatigued nerves, bringing him to a elevated level of alertness.

"You must see he is the chosen one. It is foolishness to ignore it." Qui-gon implored, so far to no avail.

Typical Qui-gon, Obi-wan thought. If only he could shut his mouth we might be able to get some decent rest. Obi-wan had never been particularly practiced in patience, even less so now that he felt on his last straw both physically and mentally. Yet he remained silent. He had learned to be completely obedient under his master's direction. It would not earn him anything to try to protest, especially before the council.

"Whether he is the chosen one or not doesn't matter. The boy is too old to be trained." Mace spoke critically, shaking his head with a severely disproving look. Qui-gon never took well to being talked to in such a way. If there was even a perceived disrespect it would only solidify his resolve that much more.

"I will take Anakin as my padawan then, whether the it pleases the council or not. The boy is the chosen one, that much I am certain. He must be trained as a Jedi." Qui-gon spoke defiantly, as was his habit. He had never been afraid to speak his mind before the council. It set him apart from most other knights. Obi-wan was never shocked by his masters brazen demeanor, but the words he was saying caught him off guard, pulling him further from his sleep deprived haze.

Obi-wan looked over at his Master in disbelief, all traces of irritable fatigue leaving him, replaced by a cold sweat. Everyone knew each knight could only have one padawan. Qui-gon was already spoken for. He had him. Obi-wan tried to hide the hurt and shame that he felt welling up inside of his chest. Qui-gon is throwing me away for some boy... he doesn't want me anymore...

Obi-wan racked his mind trying to think of how he might have angered his Master, or done something wrong. His mind was so consumed by it he felt as if he were no longer really there at all, only his body remained. It felt like his world was coming down around him.

"Qui-gon, forget you do, a padawan you already have." Yoda said, in an attempt to redirect the smoldering will that was burning beneath the mans skin.

"Obi-wan has proven himself in every way. He is ready for the trials. No- he has conquered his trials. He slayed a Sith lord, no less." He turned towards Obi-wan with a look of pride that he rarely showed.

Obi-wan would have appreciated it more if he wasn't trying to figure out where he went wrong. Besides, he didn't feel ready to be a knight. He knew Qui-gon was only proclaiming his competence for his own convenience, not out of honesty or pride. The man had a way of manipulating others through many means to bend circumstances to his favor. All Obi-wan could do was stand there, mouth agape as the reality of his masters words and their implications sunk into his mind. He blushed fiercely as he quickly averted his eyes away from his masters knowing icy stare.

The council members continued to drone on, with Qui-gon vehemently interjecting here and there. Obi-wan lost track of the conversation, or who was saying what. He stood there silent as could be, eyes transfixed on the floor beneath him, wising he could dissolve into the air and cease to exist.

He was sad, felt used and disposable. He was terrified, what would this mean for them now that they were no longer to be padawan and Master? Everything he knew had revolved around existing in the shadow of Qui-gon Jinn. He didn't know how to feel about being a knight. There was a time in his youth he would have been overjoyed for this moment. He had since changed greatly. He no longer had the foolish lens of inexperience skewing his judgment. Life had been the cruelest teacher at times. But nothing had prepared him for this.

He should have hated Qui-gon. Truly he did some of the time. Other times he was simply grateful that he had plucked him from the Agri-corps, regardless of circumstances. Obi-wan had not been anyone's first pick for padawan, he didn't even make the list. He was not particularly strong with the force. He had been arrogant, impulsive, impatient, and pompously egotistical. All of the elements to make him anyone's least favorable option. Still, Qui-gon had chosen him. Although unlike Anakin, Obi-wan had not been chosen for his promise and potential, not in regard to the force anyways. It had nearly been entirely the opposite.

Qui-gon had agreed to take Obi-wan on as padawan under certain, conditions. Obi-wan had very reluctantly agreed. It was favorable to the alternative.

It wasn't as if he was forced to stay in Agri-corps. Any Jedi at any point was allowed to leave, and given enough credits to scrape by while they searched out a life of their own. It was a payment of sorts, for their service to the order- as if a lifetime of servitude and sacrifice could be summed up by any amount of credits.

It would have been accepting defeat to take the payout and leave. It was a matter of Obi-wans stubborn pride that kept him toiling away day after day in the corps, until that fateful day when he had crossed Qui-gons path. He could still see the moment plain as day when he brought it to mind. Those ice cold eyes looking right through him for the first time. He had never felt so naked in his life.

Qui-gon was a man who commanded a certain respect from others. He never had to demand it, the way he carried himself said enough. There was a tangible intimidating quality to the depth of his stare, the angle of his jaw, the broadness of his shoulders, that spoke to the animal part of your mind. You didn't have to exchange one word with him to know who held all the power, and who was truly powerless.

Sometimes he was surprised when he looked back at himself, remembering all that he had gone through just to be a padawan. He told himself everything he would do, everything that he agreed to, in the end it would be worth it. His goal would be complete. He could finally be the Jedi knight he always dreamed of being as a small child.

And now the moment had arrived, it all felt like a nightmare. It was never supposed to be like this. Being a knight was a sacred honor, one he had perused through blood, sweat, and tears among other things. It all would have been a bit less bitter were it not for the fact that Qui-gon had found someone better. Someone with real potential. Someone that would be ten times more powerful than Obi-wan could ever dream of being- the chosen one. Anakin was the padawan he had always wanted. All the feigned praise in the world would not make him feel any better.

The spark in him that had put him on the path of knighthood had long since faded, eroded by the subservience Qui-gon had demanded over the years. He couldn't picture himself free from Jinn's grip. He was nearly shocked that Qui-gon would let him get away after all these years of possessive ownership.

Obi-was was so engrossed in his inner lament that he hadn't noticed when the council had dismissed them until Qui-gon was grabbing at his arm and leading him out the door. So much had changed in the span of only a few minutes.

Qui-gon had gotten his way, that much had been predictable. Jinn always got his way in the end, one way or another. Obi-wan felt lost, adrift in the depths of uncharted space, terribly alone, afraid, unsure. He had walked into the chamber as a padawan, and left promised to knighthood. Yet he felt no better or stronger, as he had pictured he would. Actually, he was beginning to feel sick.

Qui-gon lead him in silence to their shared quarters where Anakin was waiting for them. The child was eagerly awaiting the news from the meeting. The boy had such enthusiasm to learn, of course he did. He had spent his entire young life as a slave. The experience had to have been overwhelming him. Obi-wan did admire Anakins strength of spirit. It reminded him of himself when he had been young, before he had become indebted to Qui-gon. Before his master stole the jovial innocence that lit the tenacious flame behind his eyes.

When Obi-wan was that age, he had idolized the Jedi. They nearly didn't seem real. They were heroes that upheld the highest moral standards- maintained peace in the galaxy. As he grew older his idolization of the Jedi had become tarnished. It wasn't that he no longer wanted to be a knight, he did. It was all he had ever wanted. Only now, he could see the order for what it was, no longer blinded by inexperience.

Now he could see the darker side to the order, the one that was never talked about. The Jedi were not all powerful moral beings. Most of them did try to live a life by the code, but many of them had vices. Spice, drink, and gambling were the most common. For others it was attachments, if not to people, to ideals. Then there were the ones who searched out more base forms of satisfaction.

He prayed that Anakin would never have to come to know this as he had. He may have been resentful of being tossed aside, but he wished the boy no ill will. Obi-wan had never thought harm upon anyone aside from Qui-gon. Even then, he only felt that way from time to time, when his Master was being particularly cruel.

When the two of them arrived to their shared quarters, Obi-wan dismissed himself to his room without a word. Quickly he changed into his sleep clothes and crawled under the covers. In spite of his sleep deprivation, he wasn't really tired. He was however, completely emotionally exhausted. He could hear the small boyish voice from the other room excited and happy, so grateful to be accepted as padawan. Qui-gon was taking him on with no strings attached, simply out of his desire to teach him and watch him grow.

Obi-wan didn't try to stop the tears that beaded in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't help but feel obsolete. He wasn't ready to be a knight. He had never earned it. The only thing he was good at was being a door mat or foot stool for his Master. Yes, he could fight. Yes, with his Masters help they had defeated the Sith lord. None of it was his own accomplishment, although Qui-gon tried to pawn it off on him and act as if it were.

He was ashamed that he was not happier. He should have been. This would effectively free him from any debt owed to Qui-gon, releasing him from their agreement, it shouldn't have mattered what had transpired to get him there. Being free from Qui-gon, that was a good thing on it's own. No more pleasing his master. He no longer had a master. His shackles were unfettered. He should have felt free. He didn't. He had lived over half of his life in his Masters service, he didn't know how else to be. He felt even worse for it.

Obi-wan laid there, tears crusting the edges of his eyes until he fell asleep. He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping by the time he heard the door to his room whir open, but the city lights were dim through his window. It was at least midnight, if not early morning judging from the scant traffic outside so he figured he couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours. He felt a weight shift on his mattress as a body climbed under the covers behind him.

Obi-wan was instantly filled with rage. He sat up and sprang to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. There were so many things he wanted to say- his mind was swimming with jumbled up thoughts and words that had a hard time finding their way to his mouth. Instead he just stood there, shaking with anger, reeling in confusion, heaving for breath.

Those hollowed eyes stared back at him, nearly entertained, as if all of this was some sort of joke and Obi-wan was about to tell the punchline. Kenobi opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself before he made a sound. He took to shirking away from the cold stare instead, uncomfortably looking at the floor searching for something, anything that would make everything go away. Still he was rendered mute. Qui-gon tended to have that effect on him.

There were no words to match what was churning inside of him. How could he even begin explain the noxious mixture of caustic emotion that was eating him alive?

There was an abundance of hate. Hate for his Master, for the things that he had done to him. Fear for what he might do.

Betrayal, and vicious repulsion towards himself for feeling it at all. Qui-gon had never cared for him to begin with to be able to properly betray him. Obi-wan had assigned him a role of importance, because it was the only way to stay sane.

He hated him, but he cared so much about what his Master thought of him it made him sick. Always searching for validation, craving for even an ounce of kindness that didn't have some sort of string attached.

Qui-gon had proven time and time again how he felt towards him. Obi-wan was an object to him, a thing with a purpose. It still didn't keep his brain from warring with him over it. He wanted to love him, he wanted to so much. But how could he?

What scared Obi-wan the most is the fact that he did. He loved his master, in spite of all the terrible things he put him through. He loved him and hated him all at the same time. But he could never say any of it.

He even rejected it within himself. He couldn't love such a terrible man- it didn't make sense. He couldn't admit to his feelings, not a single one.

So he stood silently, still fixed on the floor, until his master grew bored. Qui-gon spoke in a wickedly lethal tone. There was only one word.

"Strip."

Obi-wan looked back up at him as if he had just tasted something foul. Suddenly words began to find their way to his lips. His trembling continued, only now out of raw fear. He knew he was already in a lot of trouble. He might as well assert himself if he was bound to suffer anyways.

"No."

"You know I never give orders twice." Qui-gon looked at him as if he had just asked a question. Obi-wan knew his meaning. Are you really going to resist me? You know I get what I want.

"This? It's over Qui-gon... I'm not yours anymore. You have a new padawan." Obi-wan said scornfully, cringing at his words, at how pathetic they sounded. But what he said was true. He was only his property so long as they were master and padawan. That had always been the arrangement, regardless of his feelings on the matter.

He quickly regretted the words that left his mouth as soon as he had spoken them.

Qui-gon skulked up from under the covers advancing predatorily on Obi-wan, eyes locked on him- boring into him. Obi-wan couldn't look away, couldn't run. He was cornered. Qui-gon moved in on him until only inches kept them apart. Obi-wan wished he could phase through the wall and fall to his death in the alleys below. Anything would be better than what was about to ensue. Because his mind told him he loved him, it made it that much more agonizing.

He hadn't been so brazenly rebellious against his Master since the very beginning. He had quickly learned that resisting would only earn him more punishment. Even when he was perfectly compliant, his Master often liked to be violent and rough with him. He took sadistic pleasure from his tears and whimpers, it only encouraged him more.

Sometimes if Qui-gon thought he was being especially obedient, and if his mood permitted, he would reward him by being gentler, even sharing pleasure with him. Obi-wan wished he would just take what he wanted and leave. Those encounters usually left him feeling more confused and conflicted than he was comfortable with. It was better- simpler, to feel pain. In pain it was easier to hate the man. Hating his master always made it easier afterwards, easier to live with himself.

There was a loaded silence that grew between the two of them as Qui-gon looked down coldly into Obi-wan's eyes. Obi-wan withdrew his gaze, knowing with dread what he had just gotten himself into.

Qui-gon moved a hand to gently grasp the padawan braid that fell so long past his shoulder. Obi-wan's breathing hitched in horrid anticipation, his whole body tense as he tried to brace against the imminent consequences of his defiance. A part of his mind wished he could lean into the gentle contact, but he knew weather he did or not, it would only be met with violence. At this point, there was nothing he could say or do to save him from that reality.

With the braid gently held in his fist, he brushed up against Obi-wans naked jaw line delicately, nearly passionately, as the man he towered over began to bead sweat at his brow.

Qui-gon leaned in close. "Do you know what this braid means?" He spoke softly into Obi-wan's ear, lips grazing his flesh. It sent shivers down Obi-wan's spine. Obi-wan closed his eyes tightly as if it would help him disappear.

It means I'm yours.

The words echoed in his mind, unable to find their way to his lips. He felt if he even dared to breathe his Masters calm demeanor would be broken by the cruelty that lie beneath.

After a moment that felt like it would never end, Qui-gon yanked hard on the braid, pulling his head to the side straining his neck and hurting his scalp where the delicate golden chain anchored. Obi-wan didn't make so much as a sound, he didn't want to encourage his Master.

Still, Obi-wan couldn't find it in himself to say the words- to breathe life into the prison he had been living in for the past thirteen years. Harshly and without warning Qui-gon backhanded him, only hard enough to bring him to his senses. It stung, but it wouldn't leave a mark. Qui-gon knew what he could get away with, and where he could leave bruises. He quickly followed up with a barrage of solid blows to his ribs, sending Obi-wan doubling over into the chest of his assailant.

The warmth of Qui-gon was repulsing to him, especially at times like this. He wanted to be anywhere but here, against the man who had hurt him so much, so many times, who was hurting him now. But in the moment, his lungs couldn't remember how to breathe. It was a powerful distraction from his aversion for physical contact with the man.

Qui-gon took advantage of his incapacitated state to shove him towards the sleeper, bolstering his violence with the force. Obi-wan began to regain his breath, gasping desperately for air as he landed on his knees, arms draped over the side of the sleeper. He struggled to right himself, climbing up onto the mattress. Qui-gon swiftly kicked his legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor.

Obi-wan felt like an insect, small and helpless. His master the tormentor. At this point Qui-gon was far past giving demands and expecting Obi-wan to heed them. Qui-gon was a very physically driven man. Now he would do what he wanted, take what he wanted, just as he always had. Obi-wan wished so badly he had just complied from the beginning. It was too late now. There was nothing he could say or do to quiet the tempest inside his Master. All he could do is be as submissive as possible and pray it would earn him a lesser punishment.

Obi-wan lie on his back on the floor, where Qui-gon had put him as his master stood over him, undressing from his sleep clothes until he was bare from the waist down. He knelt over Obi-wans chest, dragging his manhood across his lower lip while pulling a fist through his hair so he couldn't move away.

"Since you seem to have forgotten, I'll remind you. That braid makes you mine." This time he spoke with a savagery in his voice that manifested in a low growl. Obi-wan opened his mouth in compliance. His Master grinned devilishly, forcing himself completely into the man beneath him with a satisfied grunt.

"That's right...Just like that." Qui-gon commended between quickening thrusts.

He tried to stay silent but couldn't help but let out a few strangled sounds in his attempt to catch his breath. Qui-gons length was such that he couldn't breathe when he was fully inside of him. He tried hard not to gag against his masters length, if he vomited it would earn him harsher treatment. He became light headed after a short while and teetered on the edge of unconsciousness from lack of oxygen. Qui-gon never let him black out, although Obi-wan wished he would. It would have been a mercy he hadn't deserved.

Sensing Obi-wan couldn't take much more, Qui-gon withdrew from him as the man began coughing and gasping for air.

"You dirty whore, what are you even good for?" He mused, slapping his face gentler this time than the last. Still it had a sting. He grabbed the mans shoulders, putting him face down beneath him on the ground. Obi-wan was careful to lie still. With a quick motion Qui-gon tore Obi-wans sleep clothes off and positioned himself atop him, probing at his entrance roughly from behind then pressing his length against it.

Without warning, and quite roughly, he thrust himself entirely into Obi-wan hard, slamming his face into the floor before he withdrew to slam against him harder. In spite of Obi-wans efforts he had a hard time keeping quiet, small involuntary whimpers escaped his throat as he clawed at the ground, sinking his nails into the carpeting of his bedroom floor. He hated feeling so pathetic, hated being used like a cheap slave. He hated every nose that he made, every time he braced himself for another thrust, he felt weak and humiliated.

Most of all Obi-wan hated being taken on the floor like this. Qui-gon knew it. It was intentional. He meant to degrade him and use him in all the ways he despised the most. It was more than physical, it was psychological. It made his heart ache in his chest, hot tears of shame leaking from his eyes as he tried to hold them back. He didn't want to cry, didn't want to give his master the satisfaction of breaking him so completely.

"If you think I'm ever letting you go... You're wrong." He spoke as he neared climax, moving to hold him in a head lock with one arm, and an iron grip on his side in the other.

No!

Obi-wan tried hard to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes to no avail. He began to resist, wrestling against Qui-gons grip on him. He struggled but Qui-gon only beared down on him harder and with more force, his whole body weight pinning him down, arm constricting around his neck making it harder to breathe. Where his ribs were freshly bruised began to feel like knives stabbing into his tender sides. Obi-wan would have screamed if he could draw enough breath to do so, but he could barely breathe enough to whimper.

Finally Qui-gon spilled deep inside him with a low guttural moan muffled by biting the mans shoulder. Obi-wan felt a sick relief. He hated the feeling of the man inside of him, but was consoled by the knowledge the worst of it was over. Or at least for now, he hoped. Once he was no longer pinned he curled up on himself and shut his eyes tight, hoping his tormentor would leave him now that he had taken what he wanted. He hadn't noticed until now, his whole body trembling still, this time from exhaustion and trauma. It took him even longer to hear the sobs that were coming from his throat.

He jumped as Qui-gon made contact with his raw skin, cleaning him off with a moist warm towel retrieved from the fresher. "There there," he said with the gentle soft voice from before. "That's not so bad now, is it?"

His heart broke into pieces, just like it always did. He hated the duality of the man. His ice cold stare that froze his soul, his fire like touch, his body always radiating a sickening heat. The wicked words he would string together like daggers to flay his soul, the warm soothing tones that was supposed to console him. All of it left him in a cacophony of divergent emotions that ripped him up inside.

Obi-wan was repulsed by his Masters touch. Qui-gon always cleaned him up after he had finished using him, sometimes bathing him or tending to his wounds. He hated it.

"Come now, lay down in bed." Qui-gon commanded with a soothing voice. It was an order easily taken. Obi-wan rose as quickly as his injuries would allow and climbed under the covers, his body out of view. It was a small measure of comfort, but anything would do right now.

Sitting on the edge of the sleeper, Qui-gon took to stroking his hair, thumbing over the edge of his face. The gesture was supposed to be endearing. It made Obi-wan feel sick.

"Please, don't" Obi-wan whispered coarsely. His throat was still raw from taking his masters cock. It hurt to speak. Tears still rolled down his face freely.

"What?" Qui-gon spoke, amused again at such defiance.

"Don't touch me..." His voice broke into sobs again. He hoped Qui-gon might just kill him, save him from all the misery. Of course his master was never so benevolent. He simply kissed him on the forehead instead, and settled under the covers on his side facing his weeping padawan.

"You belong to me, Obi-wan. I will do with you as I please." He spoke so matter of fact, as if it were such a simple truth. As if it were as undeniable, something uncontested.

"You promised. You said when I was knighted, you would let me go."

Qui-gon settled in closer to him, placing a finger under Obi-wans chin, bringing his face up until their eyes were locked. His voice sounded sweet and kind, as if he were proclaiming love. His words were wicked and vile. "If you ever try to escape me, I will make Anakin pay for your mistakes."

"No, you would never. He's the chosen one. You can't." Obi-wan was horrified, in shock. He wanted to believe that Anakin was too young for Qui-gon to lay a hand on him, but after all, he had been only twelve when they had made their agreement.

"Oh Obi-wan, but I can. I will." Qui-gon knew Obi-wan's most vulnerable weakness- his tender heart for others. He knew Obi-wan would never dare leave if the boy's safety hung in the balance. As he looked into those terrible hollow eyes, he knew his Master was not lying. He couldn't even kill himself without Anakin paying the price.

Silent tears of horror fell down his face. He was trapped in this eternal prison, one where there was no way out, not even death. Not without having some other innocent suffer a fate meant for him alone, a fate he had agreed to no less.

"Oh, but it's not all bad, is it?" Qui-gon chided as he reached down for Obi-wan's member. His body betrayed him, stirred by the contact. It wanted more. He wanted it all to stop.

"No, please, I can't." No stop, I don't want this- please!

"What's this then?" Qui-gon spoke of the hardening girth he held in his hand, slowly stroking him. It didn't take long for him to become fully erect. His master knew what he was doing, each movement and stroke was exactly what his body was yearning for. Through the force he could sense many things that made him an expert in bringing Obi-wan to orgasm. Those same senses were the means of the harshest cruelties he could inflict.

Qui-gon moved beneath the blankets to take him in his mouth. He was already so close to orgasm, the soft wetness of his masters mouth was overwhelming, making him short of breath and light headed. He had only ever taken him like this once before, all those years ago when he was a new padawan. It had been a particularly rough transition for him to get used to a life of servitude. Still he wasn't truly used to it, but it had become familiar in a dreadful way.

This, he was not familiar with. Most times when Qui-gon would let him cum, it was by forcing his physical sensations onto him as he was inside of him. It was rare that Qui-gon ever took interest to touch Obi-wan sexually for his pleasure. Mostly Obi-wan served as a sex object for his master.

The novelty of touching him in such an intimate way assured a powerful reaction, one that was not easily ignored. His body reminded him of how his master could make him feel, how he wanted him, only him. He hated how gratifying it felt.

Obi-wan's body was on the edge of release, he tried to stave it off, he didn't want his master to have the satisfaction of making him cum. He hated himself for it every time. He was just a toy to him, nothing more. But he was his toy, he felt sick at how his pleasure swelled at the thought of it.

"No, please, stop..." Obi-wan begged, but his words sounded needy. His body was screaming for more, fighting it only made it feel so much better.

"No, I... I- Ah!" Obi-wan came powerfully, his master swallowing every drop he spilled. Waves of pleasure pulsed through him, leaving his aches and pains numbed and his ears ringing.

Qui-gon rose up from under the covers and began clothing himself with a smug look on his face. Obi-wan wanted to hide. He felt dirty, like he would never be clean again.

Without so much as a word, Qui-gon left. Obi-wan was stuck in a hazy shock, pain slowly bleeding back into his senses. Then he remembered again. He was to be a Jedi knight. Things were going to change. But even more so, things would remain the same.