Switched, a Star Wars differentiation

Prologue

(Padmé POV)
Today was it, the day mother and I were to be sold. I was nervous, truth be told. We were slaves, and as such were expected to work.
But there was a problem. Our current master was kind, and allowed me, the 5 year old, to not work. Why? I didn't know, and never would, but from the whispers I heard from my fellows, this new life would be terribly hard for me.
The past few weeks, my mother prepared me for our new master and his potential abuse he would use on us. She explained that I must use 'master' every time I spoke to or about this new owner.
"In a slave's life, even walls have ears my little one," she told me. My small brain struggled to absorb all this information, but it would save me from some awful whippings in the future.
By the time I was to leave, I had tried to brace myself for any surprise. This master would definitely make me work, and perhaps pare my poor mother with a spouse to add more to his collection of slaves. Though the problem thrown at me had never crossed my mind.
I always assumed masters to be human. My current master was human, and mother never had told me of owners of different races, so I was openly shocked when I met my new master.
His name was Riffo, and was quite an ugly creature to behold. He had slimy, yellow-green skin that sagged around his bulging eyes and hugely disgusting potbelly. His finger and toes each were 'blessed' with craggily yellow fingernails, and his eyes were orange, seeming to hold the screams of all his tortured slaves.
As soon as my small 5 year old self set eyes on him, I almost turned and ran. He was the very thing of my nightmares, and when he saw my mother and I, he smiled. I snuggled closer to my mom, who clearly sensed my fear.
"It's okay, Angel," she whispered into my hair as Riffo and my old master talked. "We will help each other in this strange new place and situations," I shuddered and tried to disappear as he inspected us. To my dismay, this would not be the first time.
      When we arrived, once again he inspected us, this time asking us questions. "What's your name," he asked me gruffly.  "Though it won't really matter, because I am most likely to call you Slave," he added.
    "I am called-," I hesitate. I don't necessarily want this creep to know my true name. What did people commonly call me? Oh. "I am called Angel, master."
      "Hmm," he muttered. My mother gave me a dirty look. "Fine," he finally said. "Have you ever done work? Some people let little ones off easy, but not me," he smiled with grimy teeth.
     "I have never worked, master," I say, shuddering.
       "Fine, go get me your mother," I scurried away and retrieved my mom.
      "Master Riffo wants to see you," I tell her diligently. From seeing the slaves that brought us back, I feel as though we are favored, and I haven't figured out if that's a good thing yet.
       Mother is pared with a man with kind eyes who already has a son named Rye. He is older than me by two years.
       "What is your name?" he asks.
       "Angel," I told him. Even though we are family, I don't trust him enough with my real name.
       "Angel," I hear my mother call. Thank goodness she's playing along.  I walk over and she looks at me seriously. "Padmé, dear. What have you done!? If Master Riffo finds out, you'll be in trouble," she tells me worriedly.
         "It's fine, mother, as long as you call me Angel," I reply.
         "Okay, dear."