The sex with Lotor had been uncomfortable, in more ways than I could imagine. As humiliating as I had anticipated, and made even more so by my body’s own reactions to him. I had responded to him, to the play of his mouth on my skin. My nipples which had started out stiff with fear, soon ached with a feeling of a different kind, yearning to feel his lips around them.
With his mouth pulling insistently on my breasts, I had grown wet. My body hadn’t cared that it shamed me by doing so, an unfamiliar neediness filling me. Turning me from the woman who wanted to get away, to some stranger who clung to Lotor for the feelings he roused in me. I can only be grateful I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself, further lewd behavior held off only because Lotor hadn’t taken the foreplay any further.
A part of me wants to think he had become impatient. But that can’t possibly be. Not after that first climax where he had come inside my mouth. That climax should have taken the edge off his hunger, left him satisfied enough for him to think clearly on his next move. That he hadn’t bothered to play with my body any more, it seemed a calculated move. He wasn’t interested in my pleasure, and he sought to remind me of that again and again with the ways he hurt and used me.
My thighs are bruised, and there is discomfort between my legs. I hadn’t been a virgin, but it had been a few years since my last lover. That had been a mistake. I should have taken a lover before coming here, if only to prepare my body for Lotor’s possession of it. Such an oversight can’t be corrected now, Lotor’s girth having forced my body to stretch to accommodate his impressive size.
That’s not the only pain I have. Even hours later, my throat still bothers me and there is pain in my shoulder where he had bitten me. He had broken the skin, a thin trickle of blood decorating my shoulder. It has dried by now, but I can’t stop feeling the aches and pains of my body. For all my hurt, I am restless. Unable to lay besides Lotor and sleep. He has had no such problem, drifting off with his back to me. I am surprised he hasn’t sent me from the room, but then I know he will most likely want to continue with these humiliating acts once he awakens. I wonder what will be next, wonder how he will hurt me this time.
Tears are ever present in my eyes. They want to fall, but I fight them, knowing if I give in I will sob. The sounds of grief I make will wake up Lotor, but the King will not comfort me for my sadness. He will just use me, take what he wants and then dismiss me. I want that dismissal, the night seeming to stretch on endlessly. Part of me is coiled with tension, ripe with dissatisfaction. It is almost always like this after sex, regardless of who my partner is. Why should it be any different with Lotor, with a man who cares nothing about my own pleasure?
I make a sniffling sound then, not wanting to reflect on my limited sexual past. Or the reason why I so often avoid taking lovers. Sex has never really been enjoyable to me, the few times I’ve actually climaxed being a happy accident. An act that surprised both myself and whoever happened to be my partner at that time. I’ve long suspected I am a frigid woman, a being not designed to enjoy being used in that way. It doesn’t make it easier to accept, my body capable of going to those peaks, but almost never falling over in the ultimate bliss. It makes sex a pointless, frustrating act, my body merely the vessel for others to find their enjoyment. I am not surprised it is the same with Lotor, though for one brief, horrifying moment I thought I would come.
It wouldn’t have been worth it. To have that kind of pleasure from a man that despises me? A man I don’t like, and have feared my entire adult life? Surely it would have destroyed something in me. I tell myself I am relieved to have been denied, but some doubting voice whispers in my mind. It is the same voice that tells me if I must do this with Lotor, I might as well enjoy what happens. But that is something I cannot stomach, thinking it is better he hurts and use me than shows me any tender care.
It fits in my image of Lotor. In the image of the merciless, sex obsessed tyrant. The one who takes rather than gives, and by gods I have the pains to prove it now. He is an inconsiderate monster, forcing me to use my body as the coin to purchase the help Arus needs. Not only has he hurt me, he tears apart my future, stripping me of my title. I don’t know what I will do now that I am no longer a Queen. Now that I can no longer rule over Arus. I may not have been a very effective ruler, but I had tried my best for my people.
Sometimes I wonder if I could have done better if I had married. But my marriage prospects have always been limited, even after Lotor stopped his pursuit of me. Arus, always a poor world, had been unable to attract suitable candidates for my hand. The worlds that were powerful enough to help and protect Arus? They couldn’t be bothered with allying with such a weak world. Especially when we no longer had Voltron to sweeten the deal.
Even less fortunate worlds didn’t often leap to the chance to unite with Arus. Yes, I am beautiful, but beauty is not enough when considering an alliance that will permanently tie two worlds together. I had little to offer to entice the appropriate suitors, and had resigned myself to living a lonely life. A life where I would sneak treasured moments with a lover when I could.
I regret that I wasn’t able to help Arus by marrying well. But a selfish part of me can’t imagine tying myself to a man who would make demands of me. A man who would want me to fulfill his sexual needs night after night, with little chance for my own needs being met in that way. I’ve given up on love, on sexual satisfaction. I threw myself into saving my planet, on working with the people for their benefit.
I can’t lie and say I’ve been happy. Arus is in too damaged a state, my people dying slowly. My hands have been dirty with the blood, sweat and tears needed to help just a small fraction of people survive. There’s been no glittering gowns, no parties and celebrations. Only hard work that results in little positive pay out.
I sigh, my breath shuddering out of me louder then I would like. I angrily bring my hands to my face, using the backs of them to brush at my wet eyes. I don’t know if it’s the sound I made, or my movements that has awake him, but Lotor is stirring besides me. I stiffen besides him, mentally trying to prepare myself to be used by him a third time.
He doesn’t turn right away. I almost hope he will fall back asleep. But I am not so lucky, Lotor shifting. Those cold, alien eyes of his meet mine but he says nothing about the tortured look I am wearing. There is no tenderness in his expression, no warmth for me. It is unsettling to be looked at in that manner, especially when I have memories of how he used to look at me. Looks that scared me with the intensity of his desire, the depths of his feeling. But the fear of those is nothing compared to the fright I feel to be regarded so coldly.
I can’t look away from his gaze. Not even to check to see if his body is aroused. I am sure it must be. He has proven how hungry a lover he is. But lover doesn’t feel the right word, giving us an intimacy that doesn’t fit regardless of all the sex we have had. I am just a toy for him to use, a body to slake his lust. Any other name would give value to an act that has none.
He moistens his lips, but before he can speak, I talk. Trying to show I am unaffected by all that has happened, and all that will continue to happen. “Shall I spread my legs now?” It is a disinterested tone I use, an attempt to prove to him that this is nothing more than business between us.
His eyes darken with some unfathomable anger. Have I killed his perverse joy by acting so cold, so distant? But it doesn’t cool his lust, Lotor nodding his head, Giving me a cruel, mocking smile that cuts deep to my heart. He’s never smiled at me like that in the past, but then he’s doing a lot of things he’s never gotten to do before.
I spread my legs, and it hurts some. I didn’t bleed from the sex, but it feels as though he had rubbed me raw with the brutal, frantic way he had at me. Is there any concern in his eyes for the way I winced? I think not. Lotor rolls onto me, and I brace myself for the worst, my legs spread so he can position himself in between them. Is he cruel enough to take me dry? But the answer comes when he kisses my belly. Apparently not, Lotor’s hands gripping my hips. Holding me in place as he teases my naval.
That is nowhere near enough to get me squirming. I lay impassively beneath him, watching his every action. I am not expecting him to go lower. If anything I expect him to tease my breasts again. It’s worked in the recent past to get me wet, so why tamper with a proven method? But lower he goes, and my breath hitches in a kind of fearful dread. He can’t truly mean to use his mouth on me there?
I can’t understand why he would bother. Why he would slide down my body, his hands caressing the inside of my thighs. Those caressing hands turn gripping, his claws digging into me as he prevents me from snapping my legs close. I don’t want him to lick me, don’t want him to pretend he is concerned on getting me wet enough to receive him.
“Lotor….don’t…” It is not quite begging I do, my tone more forceful than it should be with the man who holds Arus’ salvation in his hands. For one-second I am the Queen I once was, proud, defiant, and commanding. It all shatters apart when he glares at me, Lotor reminding me he is King here. And as such his will and desires will be followed. I am cowed by the reminder, but also shocked by the realization that he wants to taste me in this way. I don’t understand what his game is, what possibly pleasure he can get out of committing this act.
Still holding my legs apart, he bends over my sex. His long hair falls forward, brushing against my skin. It is a tickling sensation, but even that is not enough to make me relax. I cannot smile, I cannot laugh. I can only hold my breath, and hope he will lose interest soon enough.
The first touch of his tongue is not enough to make me gasp. I am too tense, too rigid to properly enjoy it. He notices it, ordering me to relax but it is not so easy to that. He’s still holding my legs apart, his tongue playing only on the slit of my sex. But all too soon he uses his fingers to spread me open, exposing the pink flesh he had abused so recently. I don’t like being examined so thoroughly there, Lotor studying me a moment, before resuming his tongue’s motions.
Lotor is not rushed as he licks me, as though he has all the time in the world to devote himself to this particular act. His tongue’s stroke are slow, and though I try not to, I feel every inch they lick across. Little by little, I start to grow damp, enough moisture pooling that I would be able to accommodate him. I wait for him to stop, and he doesn’t, continuing that infuriating licking.
“Enough your highness.” I breathe out, daring to reach down in an attempt to haul his face away. “I am wet enough now for you…” I am shocked by the furious growl he lets out, Lotor glaring at me.
“I will decide if you are or are not wet enough.” He tells me, then goes back to licking me. I am not proud that I panic, outright pushing at his head. Trying to dislodge him, as he fights to remain in place. Another growl erupts from him, Lotor glaring up at me. “Control yourself, or I will restrain you.”
The thought of being tied is too much for me, my stomach fluttering in anxiety. I fall back limp against the mattress, enduring his tongue as it moves over my sleek folds. At some point I’ve started to tremble, but it doesn’t all have to do with fear. He is doing something to me, building up a feeling inside me that is unexpected and unwanted. Again I try to plead with him, begging him to stop, to just take me. Sadistic bastard that he is, Lotor ignores me, keeping firm grip on my legs.
A strangled moan escapes me with his tongue’s touch on my clitoris. The flesh is extra sensitive there, and Lotor knows what he’s doing, circling his tongue in a teasing manner one minute, the next licking it hard. He adjusts his grip on my legs, freeing up a hand. Bringing his fingers to stroke along my wet sex, as he continues to torment my clit. I can’t keep my sounds in, moaning in defeat. I can’t even take pride that I’ve been able to keep my hips from moving, having stopped myself from trying to grind onto his tongue.
His fingers slide into me, and I find myself tightening to keep him there. The thrusting motion mixed with the way he laps at my sex? It’s making me melt, my whole body tingling with awareness. With a kind of strained feeling that wants to erupt into pleasure. Lotor’s using lips, tongue and teeth in addition to those fingers to drive me mad. I am protesting this, openly weeping for I don’t want him to take from me my one last defense. How can I walk away unscarred if he does to me what few men have been able to do, and none on purpose?
And yet my climax will not be stopped, not with Lotor so insistent upon it. I feel reality break, his fingers penetrating as deep as they can. I scream, whole body shuddering with the near violent climax that goes roaring through me. Lights flash before my eyes, I feel as though I am flying. The room seems to spin, I am dizzy and only when my breathing regains some semblance of normalcy do I realize Lotor is STILL licking me.
I can’t stop the tears, trying to squirm away. Wanting this madness to stop. Why must he so thoroughly humiliate me? Why must he make me feels things I never felt with another man? And yet he holds me down effortlessly, pleasuring me in an attempt to leave himself ingrained on every inch of me. I am shaking, a combination of lust and fear. I don’t want to be owned by him so completely, and yet Lotor will allow no other outcome. He wants to make sure I never forget this moment, never forget this time with him. It’s already too late for me, these moments emblazoned in my memory. I hate him for doing this to me and I hate myself for responding so well to his manipulations of my body.
I cannot stop the second orgasm form rippling through my body. It is no less intense than the first one, perhaps even more so. I tremble and go wild beneath his mouth, feeling his fingers still thrusting merciless inside me. I am thoroughly drenched, and he is drinking me down as though I am the finest wine he has ever tasted. I scream, part in pleasure, part in fury. I am so sensitive the third climax comes immediately after, shuddering through me. I’ve never been one to climax even one time, let alone multiple times in a matter of minutes.
I hate him for showing me this. For introducing me to a pleasure I might never be able to obtain again. I am writhing in bed beneath him, and only the thought that I might endanger Arus’ future keeps me from spitting in his face, and cursing his name.