The aphrodisiac that had been slathered onto his skin, was a fast acting mixture, soaking into his pores and affecting his body. For hours he had burned, every nerve alive and tingling, cock rigid and aching for attention. An attention he did not get, Lotor left to lay there on the rack, with nothing but the room’s ceiling to stare at. At first he had tried distracting himself from what was happening by counting the ceiling’s tiles, but even that had lost his interest within a few short minutes.
His prick had seemed to scream with need, weeping tip leaking moisture, skin turning several shades darker from neglect. Lotor had thought he’d go mad in the attempt to endure the effects of the aphrodisiac, slipping into feverish state that had him hallucinating. And in these vivid hallucinations, he imagined the little queen, come at last to relieve him of that which she had afflicted him with.
Those moments almost felt too real, Lotor imagining her down on her knees, submissive and concerned, regret in her eyes as she gazed upon his throbbing manhood. He lost himself to the moments where he recalled what it had felt like when her mouth had been wrapped around his cock, Lotor trying to thrust against the restraints, cock surrounded by air.
He had imagined her deep throating him, the little queen having no gag reflex what so ever, her tongue coiling around him as he pumped down her throat. If thought had been enough, he would have come from his fanciful imaginings of her expertise, Lotor wanting to pour every last drop into her, and watch her swallow it all down. But the hallucinations only served to frustrate him more, Lotor snapping back to reality, and the harshness of an aching cock.
Other times he would fight the restraints, trying to break free of his bonds. The rack would rattle and shake, Lotor’s arms tensing, his legs trying to kick free of the restraints. All he got for his efforts was to rub his skin raw, wounds hurting and bleeding, the pain not enough to take his mind off the pressing problem of his cock. It hurt, a pain like Lotor had never felt before, the Drule prince unfamiliar with experiencing blue balls before this day.
It was just one more reason to be mad, Lotor’s anger with Allura increasing. As did the fantasies, Lotor’s beginning to day dream about what he would do to get his revenge on the little queen. And those revenge fantasies only served to further excite him, cock rising with his imaginings. He vowed to drag her back to Doom, to make her his personal slave, and force her to serve him night and day. He would break her, revisit upon her all the indignities she had made him suffer, and then some.
Such thoughts kept him going, Lotor not dignifying his torment with screams. He refused to shout even to voice his displeasure, just laying there waiting for the aphrodisiac to work it’s way through his system. He had no idea of how long it took, Lotor hanging there for what had to be hours, before the door opened to the room. And with it came anticipation, Lotor tensing up and expecting to see Allura. The sight of the guards in her place had him experiencing a hot flash of disappointment, Lotor startled and dismayed by it.
He recognized it for what it was, the little queen had already begun to condition him to look forward to her visits. And all because his body craved hers, Lotor wanting the satisfaction it could give him. It made him growl, and grit his teeth, Lotor trying to lunge forward off the rack. The restraints held, but his violent reaction made the guards cease their laughter, one of the men actually taking a step back in fear.
The electrified steel rods were brought out, the guards wary as they released him from his bonds. Lotor almost couldn’t walk when he stepped off the rack, both his legs had fallen asleep, the nerves tingling and making him stumble. But he refused to be supported by the guards, refused to be dragged back to the harem like some helpless bastard.
His growls and flashes of fangs and fists kept the guards from trying to touch him, allowing Lotor the moments needed to recover. And then he was striding out of the room, head held high even as he was surrounded by those men, the guards quick to prod him with the rods. Escape wasn’t possible in that moment, but Lotor had kept his eyes and ears open, the prince trying not to be obvious in his study of the corridors.
They all looked the same to him, and this deep in the castle there was no windows. He had realized he’d be running blind for his escape, but Lotor was determined to make a break for it in the near future. Preferably with Allura over his shoulder, Lotor determined to find a way to take her with him. Or worst case scenario, he’d have to come back for her, thus delaying his revenge, a fact Lotor found unacceptable.
He really couldn’t wait to get back to his home world, and have Allura at his mercy. Just thinking about it was enough to get his cock stirring, one of the guards noticing with a gasp. They had assumed he was still under the effects of the aphrodisiac, but Lotor had made no move towards easing his aroused state. He refused to let his cock’s desires control him, nor would he give these men a show of tending to his erection.
He wasn’t taken to Allura, but to the harem, the time such that most if not all the slaves there were already in bed. There had been no one to greet him, friendly or otherwise, Lotor heading to the small room that had been assigned to him. It was there that he slumped down to the welcoming pillows, Lotor slipping into a much needed sleep.
He had slept for longer than he would have liked, Lotor exhausted from his ordeal. And at the foot of his bed was a small pile of bandages and ointments, someone having brought him the items he needed to tend to his injuries. The sight of them nearly had him fly into a blinding rage, Lotor angry he hadn’t awaken to the presence of whoever had brought these things to him.
He wasn’t used to being in a position to be snuck up upon, Lotor picking up one of the bottles, and flinging it at the farthest wall. It exploded upon contact, ointment slipping down the wall, to form great puddles on the floor. Fortunately for him, there was another bottle for his use, Lotor gaining back some of his control to work on using the ointment on his wounds.
Many had started to scab over, the blood having dried while he lay bound to the rack. There was a jug of luke warm water next to his bed, and he used that to clean off the blood stains before applying the ointment and the gauzy bandages. As he worked on tending to the injuries Allura had inflicted on him, he thought of his home world. It was unfortunate, but he knew no one would be bothered by his absence just yet. It had only been about a week’s time since he had first awakened on the slaver’s auction block, and that amount of time wasn’t enough to ring any alarms among the Doom court.
Lotor was known for going on wild benders, where he disappeared for weeks, if not months on end. Often times he didn’t bother to inform anyone where he was going, Lotor wanting the chance to relax and be free of the duties his father would force on him. War was always occurring with Doom, Zarkon having planets he wanted to send Lotor to, to either conquer or represent their world in negotiations.
When a world wasn’t needed to be beat into submission, his father had little use for him, Zarkon ignoring Lotor until a new problem arose. Because of this, Lotor knew it could be weeks, even months before the King thought to wonder where his son had gone too. Never before had Lotor wished so fervently for a war to break out then he did now, the prince wanting his father to get his best people out there looking for Lotor.
It would be humiliating for the truth to be discovered, but Lotor was willing to endure it if it meant he got free of this nightmare. He’d endure almost any of his father’s abuse and the laughter of the Drule court in order to be able to return to his previous life as prince of Doom. And with it, he would be absolutely ruthless in making everyone who had a hand in his humiliation pay, from enslaving Allura and destroying her world, to tracking down whoever was responsible for putting him on that auction block in the fist place.
He still couldn’t remember much of what had happened to lead him to his present situation, Lotor frowning as he wound gauze around his upper arm. He had been out drinking, but the details of that night were hazy at best, Lotor unable to remember the faces and names of his companions. He noted that none of them had ended up on the auction block, and that detail alone was enough for him to be suspicious.
He was left with only two thoughts, either the people he had partied with were responsible for his current situation, or somewhere along the way back to his hotel room, he had been ambushed while drunk. The fact that he had been inebriated enough to not be able to fight back had him wondering if his drinks had been drugged to further weaken him and make him the prey of some unknown assailant.
He wasn’t sure why anyone would do this to him though, Lotor tying off the gauze into a neat knot. What could anyone hope to gain by removing him from his comfort zone? Was mere humiliation the factor in all this, or was it something more sinister? He did not know, but Lotor intended to use every resource available to him once he escaped Allura’s harem.
The harem itself was awake now, the low rumble of voices talking outside his room could be heard. The men seemed in good sprits, Lotor could hear them laughing and joking with one another, good-natured ribbing and insults flying. A lesser man might be intimidated to go out and face those he had attacked just days earlier, but Lotor wasn’t the type to cower in a corner somewhere.
Nor was he ready to admit he had made a mistake in starting such a violent brawl, Lotor finishing with his bandages, and rising off the bed. Clothing was folded in a corner of the room, just thin layered pants he put on with a sigh. Lotor noticed they were made of fine silk though, Allura not skimping on the materials used for her harem’s limited wardrobe.
With an amused snort, he parted the beaded curtain. It rattled out an announcement of his presence, the men of Allura’s harem turning quiet at his arrival. Some turned his way, and Lotor stared a challenge at them, just daring them to say something. They didn’t have the balls big enough to speak to him then, turning their backs to him and resuming their activities.
It was a scene similar to the one he had awoken to that first time in the harem, men swimming, or holding mocked fights. He watched the fighting with interest, finding he could use a good work out to work off some of his frustrated energy. But Lotor doubted he could keep the fights from turning real, Lotor hungry for the violence that rivaled that of the arena of planet Doom.
Indeed he was stiff, tension coiling within him as he stalked over to the buffet tables. His mouth nearly watered at the sight of the feast laid out there, Lotor unable to remember when last he had eaten anything more than a slave seller’s meager rations of food.
Plate piled high with all kinds of meats and sweets, Lotor walked over to one of the cushions, and plopped down. He was ravenous, and it showed, Lotor eating with a hungry appreciation that had several of the slaves stop and stare. And then whispers were heard, comments being made about the way he ate. Lotor chose to ignore them, refusing to be denied another meal just because three fools thought he ate like an animal.
He watched his surroundings as he enjoyed his feast, Lotor looking around for Zane. The slave’s nose was still bandaged up, he was some sort of humanoid who would probably be slow to heal. Next to him was the one Allura had denied an orgasm, Salamir looking as depressed now as he had in the room. But at least he wasn’t crying, morose and nodding his head at whatever Zane was saying.
They felt his eyes on them, the men slowing raising their heads to glare in Lotor’s direction. The prince merely smirked at them, and raised a hand in greeting, amused by the snub they offered him in return. It didn’t deter him, Lotor setting aside his half eaten meal to rise and walk towards them. They were wary of his approach, and several other slaves began walking in that direction.
“Greetings.” Lotor said pleasantly enough, though he didn’t offer his hand for a shake. The pair’s eyes nearly bulged with shock, eating away some of their suspicion as they stared at him.
“What do you want?” Zane demanded harshly, and Lotor let his gaze touch upon the redhead’s nose. The man immediately seemed to color at that, hand starting to rise to nervously touch his nose’s bandages.
He didn’t offer an apology for that, though for the moment Lotor stifled his impulse to smirk. “Thought I’d get a lay of the land, find some things out.”
“Oh? So now you want to be friends?” Zane demanded, eyes mistrustful and narrowing into a glare.
“It’s a little late for that.” Added Salamir, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Lotor didn’t bother to correct them that he had no intention of making friends. He was here for information, plain and simple. “How often does Allura come to her harem?”
“That’s QUEEN Allura to you.” Corrected one of the approaching raven haired slaves. Lotor didn’t bother to ask for an introduction, figuring names were useless to him.
“My question still stands.” Lotor stated, not bothering to reword it to address Allura with the respect the slaves seemed to demand for her.
“Why?” asked Zane, still suspicious. “Are you hungering for a chance in her bed?” A smug look was directed his way. “You may be waiting a while for that. The Queen is hardly pleased with what you have done…” Again that touch to his bandage nose, Zane’s eyes hardening with his anger. “And new or not, the novelty of you will surely have worn off by now.”
Lotor tried not to let himself twitch with impatience, almost growling when he spoke. “Just answer my question.”
“The queen comes and goes as she pleases.” Supplied the raven haired slave. “Her appetites are such, that we are blessed to be called upon several times daily. Sometimes she comes to visit us, and other times she sends the guards to bring us to her.”
“I see…” Lotor’s mind was already turning over this information, trying to see how it could be made of use to him. He supposed if Allura came to the harem, and he took her hostage there, the slaves would jump him, ready to die to defend their Queen. And the guards were armed with those damn rods, the steel packing quite a wallop when electrified. It would be tricky to get past them so long as they wielded those rods, but Lotor was already trying to figure out a way past that problem.
“She has her favorites.” Added the raven haired man. “Those lucky enough to be in her favor, get called on the most.”
“And how does one get to be her favorite?” Lotor asked this more out of curiosity than anything else, and was surprised when the men turned sheepish. “You don’t know?”
“She’s a woman, first and foremost.” Explained Zane with a sigh. “Her whims and urges are ever changing like the moon. One can never tell for certain what to do to earn her favor…”
“Or earn her displeasure…” Lotor muttered, glancing at Salamir. The slave noticed, and grew upset, shaking his head.
“I did nothing wrong!” He insisted heatedly. “She merely grew tired after being pleased by so many of us. It is my fault for not being able to come on command…”
Lotor decided not to point out Allura had taken more pleasure from him after denying Salamir his release, but he couldn’t help but be snide out loud. “Boy has she got you brainwashed.”
“Brainwashed?!” It was Zane who hissed, looking outraged. Lotor nodded, a small smile on his face that seemed to further incite Zane’s rage. “We are not brainwashed!”
“Oh?” Lotor cocked an eyebrow then. “Then what would you call it? You’ve been conditioned to think you love her, to want to please her. You don’t even try to fight anymore, do you?”
“We do love her!” snapped Zane, making fists out of his hands. But he kept from taking a swing at Lotor, surely remembering how many had been injured during the brawl with the Drule. “And why should we fight? We have a good life here, we are fed and taken care of, and have a beautiful mistress to please…”
Lotor rolled his eyes at that, then gave Salamir a pointed stare. “A mistress that is as cruel as she is beautiful, bringing a man to such a state, then refusing him his climax. What did you do Salamir? Did you have to content yourself with your hand, or is it true your mistress refuses to allow her slaves even that much pleasure?”
Salamir appeared tormented by Lotor’s words, his gaze lowering to the floor meekly. It was all the confirmation Lotor needed to know the slave had not used his hand to bring himself relief. Something like pity flashed through Lotor, the prince almost feeling a camaraderie with this slave since they had both going through the torture of being aroused without a definite finish.
“I know what you’re trying to do!” Zane exclaimed with a snarl. “You’re trying to cause unease and dissent among the harem. Well, it won’t work, we are loyal to Queen Allura. We’d sooner be damned than turn against our mistress!”
“That is a pity.” Lotor’s comment earned blank looks from the slaves, the prince sighing. “If you had been willing to fight against her, that would have saved all your lives.”
“Just what are you talking about?” demanded the raven hair slave, moving as though he would touch Lotor. A warning flash of Lotor’s fangs had the slave backing off, Lotor allowing his eyes to fill with a cruel light.
“It’s very simple you see…” He began his explanation, body relaxed as though he wasn’t talking about killing them all. “Those who are not with me are against me. You’ll die when I exact my revenge for the…indignities your Queen has forced on me.”
There was an uncomfortable shifting of the men’s bodies, the slaves looking bothered by what he said. A poignant pause followed Lotor’s words, and then it was Zane who broke the silence.
“Your revenge…?” Lotor gave a nod of his head, and Zane’s expression turned even more troubled. “I do not know what you plan, what you think you are capable of. But no man has ever escaped the Queen’s grasp…”
“No man has ever wanted too!” added Salamir.
“This man wants too, and this man WILL succeed.” Lotor allowed a small smile on his face. “She’s never had a Drule before….She fails to realize how determined and resourceful we are….”
“You’re no match for the queen.” Decided the raven haired slave, and with a snort, walked away from the group. Lotor didn’t try to stop him, or call out a correction, staring at Zane and Salamir. His look disturbed them, the men shifting uncomfortably.
“Has anyone ever tried to get free in the first days of being in the harem?” Lotor’s question had them looking guiltily away, leading him to believe he was on the right track. “Who was it? What was his name?”
They clearly did not want to answer, looking everywhere but at him. Lotor bristled with impatience, but knew this time his fists would not get him the answer that he wanted. “Does he still live?” Lotor’s new question startled them into looking at him, Zana shaking his head no.
“The Queen would never kill one of her beloved slaves!”
“She loves us!” added Salamir, and Lotor laughed at that. “She does!”
“It’s a good lie.” Lotor noted. “Helps to keep you obedient and catering to her whims. But Salamir? Make no bones about it, she doesn’t love you. Not in the way a woman and man love each other. She probably holds no more affection for any men here than she would a mere pet. You are simply here as outlets for her body’s desires, nothing more than living sex toys to fuck her on command.”
A growl erupted from Zane, the man’s hands clenching into fists. The slave actually advanced on Lotor, but the prince refused to take a step back. He was not a coward, and he would not be cowed by this pitiful human whose nose he had broken just a scant two, three days ago. “Take that back!”
“NO.” It was a simple answer, but it enraged Zane all the more. Salamir had enough sense to grab the man by the arm, pulling him away from Lotor.
“Come Zane…he’s not worth it.” Zane was reluctant, but moved in the direction the other slave pulled him to. Lotor was left without answers to his question, and he almost sighed. He turned to look over the harem, noting that many of the men there had paused to stare when Zane had grown so hostile. Lotor wondered if it was a rare sight, remembering how the redhead had tried to be friendly to him in the moments before Lotor had punched him.
It didn’t matter, Lotor openly smirking back at the men who stared so coldly at him. He studied them as he did so, wondering which if any of them had been the ones to try to escape. He was yearning to track down someone who had made the effort, to interrogate them on all they had tried. It might save him a lot of time and effort if he knew what areas to focus on.
But even if he couldn’t find the one who had tried to escape, he would continue his endeavors to be free of this world. Smiling to himself, Lotor stalked back to the cushions. His experience in the red room hadn’t broken him, neither his body nor his spirit. If anything, it had only made him stronger, and more determined.