“I swear, my son will never so much as cast a glance in your direction again, not after I’m through with you.”

Allura winced at the promise and looked away, betraying her bravery. She knew it was cowardly, that a prisoner should never show an enemy any hint of fear, but she couldn’t help it. His words made Allura’s entire body tremble. And Zarkon was quick to pounce on that moment of weakness, growling and forcing her chin up with a finger. He scrutinized her a second longer, eyes narrowing in distaste, before pushing her head to the metal wall. Allura screamed.

He was disrobing her, slowly and it made Allura’s skin crawl feeling him press so close. She swallowed down the taste of bile rising in her throat. He was nothing like Lotor. Zarkon was massive, tall and terribly heavy. His skin was cold. His hands were rough. She doubted that a good slap, something that would usually subdue the crown prince, would have the same affect on Zarkon.

Helmet first. Allura shivered when he insisted on running fingers through her hair, inhaling a scent he said made him weak for human women. Allura stared wide eyed. He smiled at her, lips pulling back against his teeth. He said he would do anything to a woman. Anything that would give him pleasure.

A deluge of panic crashed over her head, and Allura’s body went cold.

She heard the zipper of her flight uniform rattle against Zarkon’s claws, echoing steadily in the dismal room. It was a horrible sound. Hollow. It made her stomach dip and her head spin. She went to lash out, striking forward to get away from this descending nightmare, but her hands fell short. The chain would not reach.

Zarkon stared at her, malice shining in his yellow eyes. The eyes of Drules always unnerved her. There was no kindness in them. No hope. Only hatred and dominance, like poison. Allura could feel it in his words, in his actions. Even in his cold and blackened soul. Choking on her fear, when Zarkon’s gaze turned ruthless, Allura wondered if Drules even had souls.

“He won’t chase after you anymore,” Zarkon said with a lopsided grin. “All this foolishness will come to an end. He’ll be free of you and your cursed charms.”

Allura howled in pain, arching into the cold wall. Zarkon set a claw to her chest, dragging it across her skin lengthwise, then dragged it back on the diagonal. He just laughed, leaning over her with his hot, fetid breath in her face as the curved tip of his claw dragged back across her skin.

“Stop,” Allura said, weakly. He was too close, consuming her with his body. His gaze. His foul, heartless laughter. Her vision was beginning to dull around the edges and Zarkon’s smile began to fade.

“You’d best keep still,” he said, setting his claws to her once again. “Lest I… slip.”

He touched a claw to her throat, running it back and forth in a deliberate sawing motion. Her skin caught against his nail and Allura closed her eyes. Tears wracked her body now. This shouldn’t have happened. She was foolish to think that she could handle everything by herself. Keith and the others were right; she needed them as much as they needed her. They were a team, able to come together for the greater good and smite evil when it reared its ugly head.

But naivety got the best of her when she went out in Blue Lion alone, thinking to find Lotor. Allura was sick of his constant meddling and wanted him to leave her and her planet alone once and for all. In her mind it all went well. She knew it was a long shot, but she had a treaty, ready to talk some semblance of peace that Lotor could understand. As backup, if things went wrong, she had the force of Blue Lion.

“You smell good, Princess,” Zarkon said in between swipes of his claws. He was trying to whisper, but his voice sounded like gravel grinding in her ears. “It’s no wonder my son is smitten with you.” He paused to look at her, his eyes boring into hers. There was no mirth in them, no amusement. Allura pressed harder against the wall, wishing herself to melt away. Nearly bent double over her small frame, Zarkon said, “He has yet to learn, however, that human women are but slaves to Doom, not potential mates.”

Straightening his back, Zarkon picked her up and pressed her to the wall, his hand pinning her by her stomach. “My eyes just aren’t what they used to be,” he said, tapping the side of his head with a finger. Allura saw her blood on his skin and flinched. Noting her discomfort, Zarkon licked the tip of his finger clean. “Now then, we’re just about halfway.”

Allura couldn’t scream anymore; he moved too fast and it hurt too much. The hand pushing cruelly into her stomach was making it hard to breathe. Zarkon pushed harder and harder to keep her up against the wall. The lack of oxygen was making her dizzy. The dim lights overhead grew unbearably bright for an instant and then started to fade away.

“Ah ah, don’t faint on me, Princess,” Zarkon said, giving her a firm shake.

“Can’t… breathe like… this,” Allura whispered, more to herself than Zarkon. She welcomed unconsciousness. Anything to get away from this. Anything.

She felt her body moving, juggled carefully in Zarkon’s hands as he fought to keep her pinned to the wall. There was the sharp bite of his claws in her hips and a hand nudging her legs apart. Bleary-eyed, Allura looked down. Even with her vision was clearing, things still seemed like a horrible dream from which she could not escape. Her body looked impossibly small, perched on Zarkon’s open hand like a bird. Allura twisted, but Zarkon tightened his grip between her legs.

“I feel like a piece of artist’s clay,” Allura thought between bouts of vertigo. She grabbed hold of Zarkon’s wrist to keep herself steady. ”He’s carving me up, molding me, holding and touching me. Make it stop. Please, someone, make it stop!”

“Almost, Princess,” Zarkon hissed. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Just a couple more.”

Allura shivered beneath the warmth of her own blood, jerking forward and back to escape the feel of it. It was all over her, sticky and hot over her chest, her belly, running in rivulets into Zarkon’s hand. Between her legs, Zarkon flexed his fingers against the sagging, bottom half of Allura’s flight suit. It felt like a warning, but Allura couldn’t keep still. Breathing ragged, she shivered again and again.

“Stay still,” Zarkon snapped. Allura watched his claw skip across her chest, splattering her collarbone with pinpricks of blood. “Stay still!

It felt like fire racing up inside her. It sounded like it too. The crackling and snapping of wood as it was just set ablaze. Blinking, Allura realized it was the synthetic fabric of her flight suit tearing and that the corkscrew of fire was the hard thrust of Zarkon’s fingertip inside her.

Allura wailed miserably and immediately stopped shivering.

“Stay still,” Zarkon said again as he slowly moved his finger back and forth. “That’s a good girl. No more wriggling away until I’m finished, unless you want another one inside you. Though, depending how I feel, I might do it anyway.” He laughed. Allura paled.

“No.” She was running out of words. She couldn’t fight. Couldn’t move. Allura glanced down at Zarkon digging his claws into her a few more times, before pulling back with a satisfied smirk. His fangs flashed in the dim light of the cell when he spoke.

“There. Quality work that is sure to quash all interest my son once had in you, my dear sweet Arusian princess.”

Allura’s mind felt scrambled when she looked down. She couldn’t process what had happened. Her chest was a mess with blood, but she could make out a series of dark lines all across her skin. It took a moment to realize they formed letters, which to her were upside down. Whispering each letter to herself, Allura suddenly found it in her to scream.

Shrill and pained, her voice echoed throughout the cell as she stared at herself. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want this. And now… She screamed again. It was a thin veil over the king’s sickening laughter.

“I’m thrilled you like it, Princess!”

With a heavy sigh, Allura felt her eyes roll back, Zarkon’s name flashing behind her eyelids one last time, as her mind slipped finally into that blissful unconsciousness she so wished for.

One thought on “Property

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  1. Creepy. The moment I thought that she should have given up to Lotor, I found out that was exactly what she was doing. I would like to think that Lotor wouldn’t care that she has his father’s name written — nevermind, he would.

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