TorBound's Bondage Tales

Padme’s Ticklish Negotiation

The invasion of Naboo had been an utter success; ever since the neutralisation of those two Jedi- The Trade Federation’s Droid army had proceeded unopposed.

The ‘Siege’ of Theed was more of a parade? What paltry resistance had been put up by the Palace Guards was quickly subdued.

“Ah victory~”

Trade Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray smirked as only a Neimoidan could whilst his ostentatious Mechano-chair ascended the marvelous Palace steps toward the young Queen of the Naboo.

Amidala had refused him once already and this refusal had led to planetary invasion, over a simple treaty. She would not refuse a second time- for her own good if nothing else.

–

“I shall not co-operate.”

Said Queen Amidala.

Short, pugnacious and entirely obstinate, this girl had the utter foolishness to refuse THE Nute Gunray a second time?

The Viceroy clenched his fists around the arms of his ornate mobile throne as anger swelled within him. Gunray’s massive eyes narrowed to mere slits whilst his jaw became set in stone; frustrated.

“Very well.”

He said curtly

“We will have to do this- the hard way.”

He relaxed somewhat and granted the beautiful young Queen his most obsequious smile

“Be warned, your Highness, you are not going to like what we have in store for you. In time, your suffering shall persuade you to see our point of view.”

Gunray reached down and patted her head as a master would his Kath Hound. He turned to his droid.

“Commander”

Droid 00M-9 steps forward

“Process her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take her to Camp Zero”

With wordless obedience the droid restrained the proud young Padme with electro-binders. Her wrists were pinned to her back as she was led away by an entourage of armed B1 and B2 Battle Droids.

–

3 Hours Later

Padme Amidala was a strong woman, far braver than most, especially considering she had only just turned 18. She had ruled with fairness and firmness, staring down any political rivals and domestic problems that had attempted to stifle ascent. It was for this reason she held the respect of all her people.

It was for this reason that Padme had to protect her people, no matter the personal cost. To help them grow and prosper in a Galaxy full of dangers. She had yet to fail even once.

Despite the strong arm intimidation tactics of Gunray’s Trade Federation Padme was certain they were doomed to fail. After all the Padme would never sign their treaty, the Senate would never authorise such a treaty and Gunray had no possibility of getting the Queen of Naboo to change her mind.

Such a public and celebrated figure as the Queen could never be treated with anything but the highest regard or else the Galaxy would turn against Gunray overnight.

Padme smiled to herself as the Droids led her down dim corridors trying with some difficulty not to giggle at this pathetic attempt at scaring her.

Nute Gunray could make vague threats all he liked; the simple reality was that within a few days of occupation the Republic would notice and the Jedi would be sent to liberate Naboo. The slimy Neimodian was on borrowed time until then and there was no force in the Galaxy that could change that eventuality.

Meanwhile; Padme continued to be led around the seemingly endless complex. It was grey walled and floored with metallic surfaces all polished to a mirror sheen. There were very few doors and no windows, the only noise was the monotonous clank of the Battle Droids as they marched before and after the young Royal.

The air here was acrid, stuffy and tepid. Padme had the distinct impression that no Organic being had stepped foot in these hallways for a long time. If ever.

After what seemed to be a short eternity Padme suddenly lurched forward as the Droids suddenly halted. Her fall was broken by the juddering halt of a droid snagging her wrist binders.

“Careful you brutes, your master will hear of this!”

The droids paid no heed- to their circuit board brains Padme was no Queen. Just another worthless prisoner to be processed.

“Prisoner, step on to the illuminated tiles to begin processing.”

Padme scoffed as she gave the droid a cold look, she didn’t hate droids but these ones certainly lacked human relation protocols…

“Very well.”

She said with an airy nonchalance that was the staple of the nobility.

‘The sooner this charade is over, the sooner I can sit down, my feet are killing me!’

Padme stepped forward gracefully, still wearing her full regalia, marvelously adorned. She matched her feet to the glowing impression on the floor of a small compartment that had opened in the wall of the endless hallway.

The compartment was only just taller than she was and terribly narrow. Padme’s severe claustrophobia was activated at once causing a tide of panic and fear to rise sickeningly in the pit of her stomach.

As soon as her body passed the threshold of the seamless compartment door and her royal plimsolls touched the glowing tiles a thunderous ‘WOOSH!’ Alerted Padme, the door slammed shut plunging her into utter darkness.

The cramped dark space quickly whirred into a cacophony of mechanical joints and arms all moving a shocking speed about their victim.

To Padme’s horror she suddenly felt cruel metal pincers tugging on her hair, clothes, shoes and even her stockings.

The young queen tried vainly to resist, throwing her body this way and that, bouncing off the cold metal walls still restrained by the electro-binders. She kicked and grunted uselessly, rapidly losing her royal air to frantic terror. Padme hated the dark.

The terror grew as, without warning, the merciless pincers tore away her royal gown, destroying a centuries old garment and leaving her shapely body exposed to the frigid air covered only by her beautiful burgundy lingerie.

She began to scream now, more with rage than fear.

“You lowly scum! The Federation will pay for this-“

But Padme was cut short as the myriad pincers pulling at her hair suddenly tore away her intricate head piece, jerking her head back painfully and freeing her natural hair to fall in a perfectly smooth wave that rested on her bare back and shoulders.

As a final insult the young queen was shoved cruelly against the door panel as, one after the other, her feet were lifted to waist height so that her socks and stockings could be unceremoniously peeled away.

“Release me! You beasts-“

But once again she was interrupted as the door panel slid open rapidly causing her to fall to the cold metal floor in the hallway beyond.

She lay there, surrounded by droid captors, wearing only lingerie and her white facepaint and lipstick. The only remaining sign of her former regality.

She looked and felt ridiculous, like an erotic parody of a Queen of Naboo most easily found in the Cantinas of Nar Shaddar or Nal Hutta.

Padme scrambled to her feet but failed and fell awkwardly as her bound wrists threw off her balance and left her unsupported. She laid flat again cold and exposed. Her body, both athletic and lithe with elegant curves flowing like silk to her ample breast and curving as a wineglass down to her wide hips past a narrow waist terminating at a perky posterior. At 18 years old she was a beauty to any being with eyes and a brain.

Only the cold hard eyes of the droids saw the humiliated beauty as she stumbled and struggled and yet it burned Padme to be so defenceless… However…

‘Calm down Padme, this is just what that Neimoidian wants, don’t give him the satisfaction!’

She steeled herself, just like that, finding her resolve and regaining somewhat her royal aspect. She was Queen of the Naboo and not so easily cowed.

She settled down and addressed the mechanoids.

“Droids, help me to my feet.”

To her mild surprise they did, 003-M approached Padme and with notable care and dexterity lifted her gently to her feet.

She stood with one hand on her hip as if she wasn’t stripped down to her underwear

“Am I to assume processing is now complete?”

003-M simply nodded an affirmative and not a moment later captured the young woman by her binders, pinning her wrists to her tailbone, the metal cold against her pantyline making her shudder. And the very next moment they were moving once again along the dark cold corridors.

–

5 mins later

Padme shivered and stumbled as her near naked body radiated what little warmth it could generate into the frigid void of the prison complex. Her feet felt dead beneath her as each cool slap of flesh against metal sent a spear of ice up her legs.

When, at last, they reached her ‘Cell’ Padme was almost relieved to finally be incarcerated.

The entrance to the cell was yet another featureless metal panel on one side of an endless hallway, just as the processing room had.

However when the panel slid open with a soft hiss, Padme was disturbed by what she saw in the room beyond, she stared in quiet anxiety at the center of the room.

5 x 5 x 5 metres the room was a perfect cube and very spacious. Covered floor to wall to ceiling with nondescript metalloid. A single harsh white lamp protruded from the centre of the ceiling and shone upon the only piece of ‘furniture’ in the otherwise empty room.

It was this ‘furniture’ which had Padme so nervous.

She gulped.

At first glance it appeared to be a bed, a thick metal rectangle that merged seamlessly into the floor and rose to just below waist height. This base was covered by 3 overlapping pads of cold black plastoid leather. Its highly polished surface shines like oil against the harsh lamplight. Two of these surfaces were nearly horizontal with a slight dip at the point which they met. The third, smaller pad was lifted to 60° and was clearly a headrest. The surfaces of each were depressed into a distinct humanoid shape.

Padme’s Body.

The perfect impression disturbed Padme, the fabrication of this bed had clearly taken time and skill, it spoke of a plan long prepared and a cruel inevitability of her arrival to this evil place.

But this realisation paled in comparison when Padme finally noticed the restraints.

Slim but obviously impervious metal loops arced over key positions on the metal apparatus, their inner surfaces plush with the same supple black leather. These were placed at the neck, upper arms, lower arms, wrists, below breast, waist, upper thighs, lower thighs, upper calves, lower calves and, most concerningly of all, feet.

The foot restraints were notable as they were a solid piece of metaloid with small holes that would only fit the narrowest point of Padme’s ankles. Padded with the same leather. Above these holes were 10 tiny loops of rubbery wire whose purpose Padme couldn’t guess.

But before the young queen could ponder further Padme was interrupted by the sudden jolt of 003-M shoving her forward toward the restraint bed.

She began to panic.

“Un-hand me at once!”

Padme tried to halt uselessly as she was forced inexorably closer and closer.

“I am Queen of the Naboo, how dare you!”

She struggled in earnest now kicking and bucking wildly against the uncaring and utterly unaffected droids.

It took mere seconds before the tiny human female was forced to stand before the apparatus, close as she was Padme could confirm with sickening certainty that it had been made custom, just for her.

“I c- command you to cease, In the name of the Republic I- AAAH!-“

Suddenly Padme was thrown bodily against the bed as her legs were hoisted up from below her. In only a few rapid movements the droids manoeuvred the beautiful woman flat on her back and sunk into the matching depression on the soft leather bed. Arrested in this position by many cold metal hands.

“Secure restraints.”

Came the slipped synthroid voice 9f 003-M

At once the metal spines extended all along the restraint bed locking into matching groves on their opposing side. Upon securing they emitted a sharp hiss sinking into place and pushing firmly against Padme’s supple body, trapping her in place.

“Release me at once! Release me or-“

With her body locked in place and her head forced to look only forward, Padme wasn’t able to do more than wiggle her fingers and feet in protest, rather pathetically.

As if in retort a droid secured her flailing feet and placed them firmly into the receiving grooves of the ankle stock. Once in position the stocks slid shut with another loud his and twin locking clicks as if it were the maw of some voracious predator.

Now properly ‘prepared’ the droid filed out of the cell and, with a final hiss of the sliding door, Padme was sealed in her cell for good.

–

1 Hour Later

For the first 10 to 20 mins Queen Padme Amidala had struggled with all her might; assuring herself that, surely, there was some fault or weakness in her restraints she could exploit to make her escape.

But it was not to be.

Now after an hour that had felt infinitely longer her courage and resolve had been eroded, in their absence a cold, aching dread crept in.

Wrwrwr

A whirring noise grabbed Padme’s full attention as a hologram resolved into existence on Padme’s left side. It bore the smug face of one Viceroy Nute Gunray.

“Ahhh~ your Highness, so good to see you have been made comfortable.”

His words were a sickly black treacle oozing with sarcasm and spiked with open hatred.

Padme gave him no satisfaction, she steeled herself despite her state of dress and restraint. Highly conscious of Gunray’s wandering gaze and her nipples made hard by the cold of the cell.

“I was wondering when I might see your slimy face again Viceroy.”

Nute merely chuckled and sipped a rather expensive looking drink, from Padme’s own cellar no doubt.

“Oh very drole my dear Queen, I seem to remember you kicking and screaming like corned prey merely an hour ago”

Padme fixed him with a look of abject disdain, her dark brown eyes two chips of coal.

Nute continued, pleased with himself

“Now, regarding our Treaty, your Highness I must implore you to sign it.”

Padme’s eyes darted to her right as a cylindrical metal table emerged from below with a steady hiss and whirr of gears. It reached the height of her waist and terminated its movement. Set upon it was a datapad and an electronic stylus. The text on the Datapad was completely ineligible from Padme’s oblique angle, secured as her head was by restraints. All that she could perceive was a small signature block, which was incidentally the only part of the datapade she’d be able to reach with the stylus that laid just beneath her palm. Locked as her wrist were in padded metal restraints.

Padme laughed at him, with a confident mockery she felt she couldn’t keep up for long, that dread was still there, burning away at her stoicism.

“Need I repeat myself a third time, Gunray? So long as I am Queen of Naboo no surrender will ever be signed, you have lost!”

Nute matched her laughter with his own hearty chuckle.

“Yes, yes, your Royal Highness has made her position quite clear. As such, we have written a new treaty for your appraisal, with a few… Amendments…”

His lips curled as he said Amendments, his tone slipping into something much darker, hateful and devious.

Suddenly the Hologram of Gunray’s face switched to display the text of the new treaty. Padme squinted to read the new paragraphs that had been added to the bottom, the writing never quite resolved into sharp focus as the holographic image flickered its constant static.

‘By signing this Treaty, Padme Amidala, Queen of Naboo, hereby abdicates the Throne of Naboo into the direct administration of The Trade Federation under the custodianship of the hereby appointed Regent Nute Gunray. Former Queen Padme Amidala will also commit herself, in body and soul, in perpetuity, to Indentured Servitude under the auspices of The Trade Federation in general and Regent Nute Gunray in particular.’

Padme squinted harder, a deep frown creasing her brow.

Abdication… Indentured Servitude…

The hologram switched back to Gunray and Padme fixed him with a flabbergasted expression.

“Viceroy, have you taken leave of your senses? If I found your previous terms unacceptable then what possessed you to present this drivel to me, it’s preposterous!”

Viceroy Gunray just smiled wanly as he moved his free hand to hover over a console on his right hand arm rest.

“Proposterous? We shall see about that…”

He pressed the button and at once a strong machine with a grated element began to emerge from the floor just beyond Padme’s trapped feet.

“If at any point you wish to conclude the following negotiations, you need only to lift your stylus and sign the treaty or else, please vocalise your intention to do so, your Highness.”

He tapped another button

“I shall watch your progress with great interest.”

And just like that the hologram switched off with a sharp click and Padme was left in her dim cell with the odd machine.

At first the silence hung like an executioner’s axe as nothing seemed to be happening. Then suddenly the strange device began to hum softly and glow with a dim red light that slowly grew to amber and then luminous orange. The device was

A directional heater bathing Padme’s delicate arched soles with sweltering rays, only just bearable.

Padme bit her lip as she wriggled her in a futile attempt to escape the heater’s focus.

Was this to be her torture? If so it seemed an odd choice, Padme was certain she could handle a sauna.

Her complacency was broken as the heater’s base began to whirr. Slowly, two large sections split from the main body and drove on tracks around the perimeter of Padme’s restraint bed.

The metal pillars halted either side of her abdomen before extending similar but smaller heating elements as the first.

These elements positioned themselves over Padme’s slender sides covering an area from armpit to hip. A smaller element extended from the left hand heater and hovered just above her belly button.

The young Queen frowned with growing concern as these heating elements began to hum in unison and their dim red emission grew to rays of vibrant orange.

Clicking noises made Padme jump and she winced as the arms of her restraint bed rotated back and up in a wide arc, wrenching her arms up and behind her head until her hands could nearly touch. Her armpits were utterly exposed.

Taking advantage of this new salient the bases of the abdomen heaters split as they had before, producing smaller pillars that traveled on hidden tracks to lay just beneath Padme’s Pits. A thin veneer of sweat began to coat her body.

As before, a tell tale whirr told Padme that more heaters were due to emerge. They did so, positioning themselves precisely beside her bare pits and, as before, began to hum and glow, firing waves of groping heat onto Padme’s vulnerable areas.

Padme began to struggle in earnest once more, using her quickly sapping strength to retreat, even a centimetre, from the unceasing gaze of the heaters. She didn’t know why this was being done to her, there were a million more obvious and effective tortures, and this was so specific, so over engineered. The thought filled her with a renewed dread and left a horrid pit in her stomach, its smooth surface now slick with sweat and steaming in relative cold of the vacuous cell.

–

10 Minutes Later

The heat had long since become unbearable for poor Padme, now drenched in sweat she panted like a wild animal.

‘Haaaah- haah- aaah- haa-“

Her chest rose and fell rapidly with each cloying breath, her white face makeup ran in rivulets down her face staining her neck and pooling on the shiny leather restraint bed like a weeping glacier. Her hair was sodden and laid flat against her brown and down the sides of her headrest the tips emitting a slow drip of sweat.

She felt like a fly pinging fruitlessly against a window as she squirmed, shifted, jolted, bucked and battled. Her efforts now weak protests automatically produced by a nervous system desperate to be anywhere but right here.

She peered to the table at her right side, blinking sweat from her eyes, focusing on the datapad and stylus

This treatment may be uncomfortable, verging on unbearable for a lesser being, but Gunray was kidding himself if he thought a mere heat massage would break The Queen of The Naboo.

On cue, a sharp click and the hologram whirred into life once more.

“Ah, your Highness, I see you are settling well, not cold, are you?”

Padme threw him a look of defiance, gasping as she spoke

“Is this- haaah- the best- aaah- you can do?- Haah- Viceroy”

Gunray replied with a look of mock surprise.

“Oh, my dear Queen, you don’t suppose this mere preparatory heat treatment is our means of persuasion, do you?”

The words cut right down to Padme’s soul

Fool!

She swore are herself

You ought to have realised he was prepping you, but for what?

Padme didn’t deign to respond.She regarded the myriad heaters with fear and failed to hide her shallow panting as she clutched her fists, enraged at the humiliation.

“Not to worry Queen Amidala, we are finally ready to begin-”

A loud whir of machinery pierced her ears-

“Agressive negotiations…”

The hologram faded with an electronic Boop as the startled Padme took in her surroundings as they rep[idly transformed.

The heaters quickly descended into the floor to be replaced by many armed and fingered implements all with different tips.

At her feet two dark red rollers made of finest Bantha wool edged toward her soles as, with a shock, her types were captured by the ten identical toe holds and secured into place.

Next at the flanks of her stomach running from hips to mid-section floated tens of sharp prodding fingers each tipped with an oozing green itching ointment.

Above her belly button hung another roller, this one far shorter and made from Mynock silk with strands so small they flowed like water as they spun up to speed.

At her armpits are two great big rubber pads covered in hundreds of soft silicone bristles. They were drenched in sweet smelling Nar Shaddarian Aphrodisia Oil.

Padme yelped

“No no no! Don’t touch me, don’t you dare!

She squealed pathetically as the implements laid themselves flush against her soft flesh. A droid voice cut through her growing anxiety.

“Beginning aggressive negotiation package, block one of one hundred.”

With that final condemnation, without a single moment to wonder what ‘block 1 of 100’ might mean, the implements span into rapid function and Padme’s tickle torture began

She shrieked amid the ear splitting din of machinery as her entire body lit up with instantly unbearable stimuli

The Bantha wool rollers on her feet scanned the exact topology of her silk arches and buried themselves into her soft foot flesh- alternating their speed and pressure as they raked up and down her poor defenseless peds. Sometimes they would split into mini rollers and attack her toes and the gaps between them. Each passing second of torment provided the rollers with more data points on how best to ruin their subject, making every moment a bit worse than the last.

The helpless girl, who had once been queen, stupidly tried to curl her toes and arches amidst primal screams of utter terror and barks of forced mirth.

Her sides received no better treatment, the myriad rows of pokers pulsed into action rapidly stabbing her exposed flanks with their dosed tips. Every painful prick sent a jolt of ticklish agony to Padme’s overworked nervous system. While simultaneously drugging her with the powerful itching serum, its efficacy undoubtedly after mere seconds of inoculation. With the prodding programme randomised Padme would get brief ‘reprieves’ where the awful prodding was replaced by even more awful misery of itching, burning, scratchy agony. It was so bad that her body quietly begged for the pokers to return only to regret it as soon as they re-opened their offensive.

Padme’s navel was a region of particular interest to the mechanoid tormentors. It was by far the most sensitive part of her body and was therefore subject to the worst punishment.

As soon as the tiny Mynock silk roller planted itself in her divet Padme was certain she couldn’t bear it. Her body bucked and thrashed against the alien intrusion.

The roller spent some time poking and prodding, growing and shrinking, until it had calculated the perfect shape and size for optimal displeasure.

It began to spin with a soft whir and at once Padme slammed her pretty head against the firm leather head rest.

“Stahhp! Stahp! Tor-r-r-or-ture! P-pleashh!”

Disregarding the stupid girls begging, the roller sped up and began to oscillate, applying pressure to the walls of her navel- increasing the stimulus. Then in a final cruel surprise rapid shocks of electricity were zapped into her soft middle carried with volt accurate precision by the hyper conductive Mynock silk.

The first shock made her eyes roll in their sockets and her tongue loll stupidly in her gaping mouth. It was not painful so much as deeply invasive and, well, shocking.

Finally adding an exclamation point to her menagerie of misery were the armpit pads. They filled the entire void of her pits and applied a small suction, making a small sucking noise as skin interfaces with the thick aphrodisiac ooze.

These pads scrubbed firm and slow, up and down, in and out, side to side. Every single conceivable permutation of movement was exploited to mine her helpless armpits to cruel perfection. In some ways this was the worst treatment of all as with each brain-melting excruciating the pads worked their aphrodisiac deep into the pores of her skin; soaking into her nervous system and making the proceeding touch dreadfully exhilarating.

As the pads scrubbed and scrubbed Padme felt her conscious mind grow dimmer, warmer, more analogue. Where before the scraping and brushing felt like singular points of contact now each pass emanates over her skin and through her muscles like a slow aching wave of pleasure. As if her brain was lagging behind reality itself.

This was the sum total of Padme’s current existence. Trapped and writhing with animalistic abandon. She knew logically that there was no escape and yet, her body fought with every last store of resistance. But that wasn’t to last.

2 minutes later

In the tide of torment where Padme found herself drowning every inch of her skin was now slick with oil and sweat. Every neuron from toe to tooth screamed ‘STOP!’ . she remembered, with sickening guilt, the treaty sat to her right; the pen just in reach.

I can’t…

She told herself with a defiance she didn’t really feel. The bare naked truth of the matter was that she could, oh yes she could sign that treaty in a moment and with each passing second that eventuality became easier and easier to actualise.

“NO!”

Padme yelled out into the uncaring nothing of her dim, cold cell.

“I’LL NEVER SURRENDER!”

In polite compliance the table holding the treaty sank away quietly. Ending the issue for the moment.

20 mins later

“I S-SURENDER-AH-AH! PLEEEASHHH! I- I’M SHORRY, I’M SO S- SHORRY PLEASHH!”

Padme was defeated. In the end it had been an easy capitulation. The human body simply couldn’t cope with continuous, tortuous stimulation. The noble queen was now openly weeping and screaming like a maniac between her bouts of wracking laughter.

“MAKE IT STOP- MAKE IT STOP- PLEAAASSSEEE!”

Through the panting, gasping and screaming Padme heard, on the verge in inaudibility. The click and warble of a hologram: Nute Gunray.

“My my, quite a racket you are making Queen Amidala, Is there anything I can do to help?”

The Padme from merely an hour ago would have the resolve to stand up to this mockery. No longer.

“PLEASE.”

She gasped, her scorching breath forming vast clouds of steam in the cold cell.

“MAKE IT STOP- I BEG YOU!”

She cried and gasped again sucking down humid air laced with her own perspiration

“I’LL SIGN- I’LL DO ANYTHING- PLEASE!-”

Gunray gazed at her triumphantly, mock concern on his lips.

“Oh- but did your highness not say ‘I will not surrender?”

“YES- I’M SORRY- I CAN’T I-”

He cut her off.

“Well then I’m afraid that given your third refusal we won’t be letting you sign any treaty until I am satisfied you have… considered our key terms clearly.”

The words dripped like hot blood from drawn fangs.

“Perhaps after you complete the scheduled ‘Negotiation’ blocks…”

Padme couldn’t bargain, only concede.

“YES, YES!”

She gasped, makeup running down the stream of tears and spittle

“I PROMISE- PLEASE I’LL SIGN ANYTHING- I WILL!”

Gunray smiled pleasantly

“Good, I am pleased to hear it my Queen, now, let’s see…”

He pressed at the console beyond the vision of the holoprojector

“Ah yes- you have been scheduled for 100 1 hour blocks to be administered consecutively.”

Padme’s heart sank, knowing full well Gunray would make her complete the sentence in full.

“But-”

A glimmer of hope

“I am such a busy man, given the administration of Naboo and an entire fleet”

He paused for what could have been an hour for the poor tortured Padme.

“Hmm… Let’s revisit the treaty in say- 2 weeks time? I shall be happy to complete our negotiations then.”

Hope evaporated into stinging reality. Padme began to scream.

“NO- NO PLEASE NO- I CANT I-”

“Until we meet again, Queen Amidala~”

The hologram blinked off and plunged Padme back into the twilight hell of her cell.

“NOOOOOOO! I CAN’T DO IT- I’LL DIE- PLEASE I’LL DIE!”

But there was nothing to be done. Padme kept screaming as the hours rolled by and the machines kept  up their uncaring misery-making with efficient relish. One hour or one hundred it made no odds, it was all the same hell to be experienced with the totality of her being.

Padme sobbed and, inevitably the ‘Negotiations’ continued

1 year later

Crown Regen Nute Gunray stretched his limbs, relaxed in his favourite Woodoo leather chair and regarded his spacious, opulently appointed private suite. It was situated in what had once been Theed Palace’s Royal Chambers. But seeing as there was no more royalty on Naboo the luxurious apartments had gone to him, naturally.

The Treaty of Perpetual Friendship & Commercial Cooperation ensured that Gunray was here to stay. After all, it had been ratified by Chancellor Valorum himself (after a hefty bribe) and the Queen’s signature was legitimate- if oddly wobbly.

Gunray spun idly on his chair to face the great fireplace that stood behind him and looked at his favourite art piece that hung above.

A large square of white-silver latex 2 metres by 2 metres was sunk into the wall so that its raised sides were flush to the marble palace walls.

At the centre was the impression of a humanoid female, spread eagle and pinned into place, struggling only weakly against the irresistible force of vacuum.

The vac bed was so tight that individual fingers, toes and even her navel were easily visible. Her breasts and sex were so strictly packed as to be effectively naked. Over her head a deep black Trade Federation logo obscured the face of the ornament that had once been Queen Amidala.

Under the perpetually humid and rubber spiked latex the ornament drew quick, shallow breaths. This was its rest period and the only chance it would have to take in air for what was to come.

“Vrrrr!”

With the click of a miniscule valve all the air to the ornament was cut off and swiftly sucked away. The ornament began to convulse with utter desperation. Screaming into the sweaty void of its vac bed universe.

Gunray heard none of this of course. He simply admired the subtle spasmoidic twitching of his trophy and, sipping his caff, turned back to his work.

One thing was certain, negotiations were short.