My days are my own, usually. I’m left to stew at my seemingly helplessness, to let fester all the negativity inside me. I don’t always possess the clarity to think things through, to scheme some new way to thwart and get away from Lotor. I’ve heard nothing new where Arus is concerned, save for the whispers that echo through the castle that insist that soon the Empire will have a new world of slaves to use and abuse.
Lotor, tightlipped under normal circumstances, tells me little even when I prod and demand answers. He will neither satisfy my need for answers, nor taunt me with knowledge of his plans. Perhaps he thinks it’s worse for me to imagine what he will do to Arus, and if so, he is all too right. My mind is far too creative, coming up with one torment after another. Imagining the slaves the Arusians will become, the people raped, tortured, beaten and debased for the Drule’s amusement. Forced to work long hours with no pay, given only enough food and drink to keep them strong enough to do hard labor.
Worse yet, a part of me hisses about how even as slaves, it would be more food than many of those on Arus, have known in recent years. For all the cruelties the Drules are capable of, they do value their slaves. As possessions, as investments. They know how to care for them enough to keep them from breaking completely, stringing out their tormented lives to get the maximum output out of their property.
The Drules probably didn’t see humans as anything more than creatures to be controlled. To be used and abused, to grow rich off of, and pleasured by. If Lotor had his way, my people would never again be free to make their own decisions. Never again free to truly live, to laugh, to love. They would know nothing but misery, and for many it would be worse than the misery life on Arus has become.
I was already hated by a noteworthy percentage of people on Arus. Even more would be after my head, if Lotor’s plans came to pass. Perhaps even just the notion of what he intended, would be enough to tip over the scales of hatred. I knew to some, to the nobles who were desperate for my crown, they would use the fact that I had handed over Arus to a man who would enslave us all to further their own agendas. Even the knowledge of what might await me if I should return to Arus, wouldn’t stop me from trying to escape. From trying to right the wrong I had set into motion.
So far I had yet to even think of a plan that would guarantee success in my endeavors. Though I racked my brain every waking hour of every day, I couldn’t figure out a way to get off of Doom, let alone stop Lotor. From his plans for Arus, to his lusts for my body. Each night, he forced me to his bed. Each night I fought him, screaming. Kicking and biting, snarling and slapping. He easily overpowered me time and time again, even without the restraints. My resistance was nothing to him. Lotor barely worked up a sweat in pinning me to whatever surface was available, be it the bed, the floor, or a piece of furniture.
I truly hated him. For everything, and for the fact that my body responded to his rough treatment. I despised how easily he was capable of arousing my body, of getting a reaction from within me. It took him little to no effort to get the pleasure building within me, the climax drawing closer, ever closer. I thought him depraved, but I found my own response made me just as sick. I was some kind of masochist, getting off on how he treated me, when in the past, the lovers that had tried to show me care with gentle touches, hadn’t come close to comparing to Lotor.
It is quite strange, the surreal feel of climaxing at the hands of a man you hate. To feel such pleasure, such bliss roll throughout your entire body, even as you struggle with an anger that is almost all consuming. Warring feelings, contradicting each other and me. Yet I feel no relief when he denies me the chance to come. As much as Lotor enjoys watching the helpless way I writhe in a stupor of anger and ecstasy, he’s started to deny me more and more. It’s just another twisted game of his, some new way to hurt me.
Or perhaps it’s just another tactic to break me. To make me beg, to fill me with shame for wanting the climax he keeps from me. I refuse to fall that low, to even ask let alone beg for him to make me come. But the years spent as a frigid woman hardly prepare me for such denial after having learned what the pinnacle of pleasure is where sex is concerned. I just hate even more, wishing he had never shown me this, wishing he would stop playing games, wishing he would stop forcing me into his bed.
It’s not the only place Lotor forces me. I have to spend the evenings attending court, to be stared at and scrutinized by the Drule nobility. For all that I am not welcome among these people, for the fact that my renewed presence in Lotor’s life makes them nervous, the Drules cannot help but be interested in me. I am a source of amusement to them, the tidbits of information they can glean about my dealings with Lotor talked about repeatedly. The Drules enjoy my suffering, relish how I’m humiliated time and time again. It is that humiliation that leads them to converse in basic, to allow me to purposefully hear the speculation and gossip about me. They want to see me turn red in embarrassment, to taste my humiliation on their tongues. They hope to drive me to tears, to strip away any pride I have left.
It is a game we play, unwilling participant that I am. I call upon reserves of strength I had never realized existed within me, trying to steel my heart and guard my reactions. I make myself ice, my expression unfeeling, my stare as empty as I can make it. I keep my head up, my back straight. Royal no more, I still retain the proud, downright haughty attitude that is afforded one of my former status. It is an unspoken challenge to the Drules, an invitation for them to do their worse.
I have been talked about, sneered at, looked down on. I’ve been insulted to my face, had people laugh about what I fool I am. Not once has anyone shown me any pity, none of these Drules capable of emphasizing with a slave. I’ve had women be jealous of the position I hold in Lotor’s bed, have had the men lust after me and wonder what sort of fuck I am capable of. I’ve been ridiculed, and slandered, and none of this prepares me for HER.
Her voice comes from behind me, that low, sultry tone that is all to familiar even after going years without hearing it. I can’t help but stiffen, unease prickling the back of my neck. The Drules before me notice my reaction, leering grins in response. I don’t want to turn and see her, do not want to be acknowledge by one such as she. And yet there is no stopping it, her now amused voice speaking directly to me.
“Well, well. How the proud has finally fallen.”
I hold back a wince, slowly pivoting towards her. Merla, a longtime queen of one of the many Drule worlds in the Doom Empire stands just inches from me. Her gold eyes seem to glitter and gleam, her purple painted lips twisted into a satisfied smile that mocks me even now.
“But then…” She gives me a considering look, her purring voice pausing long enough to build anticipation in us for her next words. “Considering the state of affairs on Arus, Lotor’s personal fuck toy might just be a step up for you.”
Somehow I manage to keep the angry flush at bay, but barely. My hands itch, wanting to make fists, wanting to pummel them against that exotic beauty’s face. The urge to hit her becomes stronger as she insolently looks me over, gaze lingering on the bruises on my bared hips. They’re marks of how hard Lotor had gripped me, they and other similar marks revealed by the skin baring dress I wear. I don’t even feel embarrassed to show so much skin, not when so many of the Drule females are garbed in a similar fashion. Even Merla shows off her body in a backless gown of midnight, her breasts barely contained via the plunging neckline of it.
Blue nails reach to caress over a bite mark in the crook of my left shoulder. Not wanting Merla to touch me, I am forced to react, to step back out of her reach. She smiles a victory at me, and inside I seethe over it.
“I see he’s being his usual, brutish self.” Merla adds, seeming to approve. And why shouldn’t she? Merla is just like all the other Drules, fearing Lotor will allow me, will allow his one time delusion of being in love with me, to affect his decisions and his Empire. To see me standing here, bruised and battered, must be a great comfort to the Queen.
“I wonder how long it will be, before he grows tired of his newest toy.” continues Merla in a musing tone. I all but bite my lip, knowing it can’t be soon enough for me, but fearing he will never stop using me. “Of course he has over ten years of tension to take out on you….” It’s almost a pitying look the Queen gives me, and my temper snaps.
“Merla, why are you even here?!” I demand.
“That’s QUEEN Merla to you.” She corrects me almost absentmindedly. “As to why I’ve come, I’m concerned about Lotor.”
“We all are.” A man’s voice adds, and I glance towards the new arrival. A Drule almost as tall as Lotor, with white waves for hair stands near. His eyes are just as insolent as Merla’s, the Drule examining me like I am an interesting insect he hopes to crush.
“Hazar, darling.” Merla purrs, running a hand up his muscled arm. “I’ve been wondering when you’d show.”
“Hazar?” I don’t know this man, but I know his reputation. A King of a world on the outer edges of the Denubian Galaxy, wise but fierce, he had killed many and enslaved even more. He had been a one time contender to challenge Lotor for the throne of the Drule Empire, but his skill with the sword had proven just enough to not be a match for Lotor’s own fighting prowess.
Hazar should have been dead for his daring. Instead Lotor had rewarded the man with a planet of his own, albeit a world so far removed from the heart of the Empire, that Hazar had little chance to cause more trouble for the crown.
It was shocking to see him here, but then I supposed even Hazar wasn’t immune to the worry my presence was causing the Drules. I would make no attempts to reassure him, to reassure any of them, even as I knew I was powerless. Unable to affect the Empire, unable to save Arus. Even unable to help myself.
“So this is her.” Hazar spoke, looking down his nose at me. “This is Allura.” His tone very much implied he didn’t think much of me.
“Unbelievable, is it not?” Merla asked him. “To think this child has driven our King to distraction for so many years?”
“I was not much more than a child myself when I pursued Allura.” Came Lotor’s voice, the King joining us. Another man follows in his wake, and I thought this other Drule might be some sort of commander in the military, judging by the medals he proudly wears pinned to his jacket. “Fortunately I have since grown, losing much of my foolish crush.”
“Much, but not all?” Hazar questioned sharply.
“Calm yourself Hazar.” Lotor told him. “I do not have those kind of feelings for her anymore.”
“Then why is she here?!” demanded Merla. “Why even invite her back into our lives?”
“Because I never let an insult pass.” Lotor instantly retorted. Understanding was in the other Drules’ eyes, though the three still seemed uneasy. “Besides, I’ve always wanted the chance to fuck her.” The men laughed, the looks they give me lusty, appreciative. Merla says nothing, though she pursed her lips together in annoyance.
“Can’t say I wouldn’t pass up on the chance to fuck her either!” The Drule with the medals exclaims. Merla and Hazar exchanged sly looks, alarm bells going off in my head. But I wouldn’t find out until after dinner, just what that look meant. For me and for Lotor.
For now I am forced to maintain my look of indifferent boredom, to curb and stop the heated reactions that burn to come out in response to the Drules’ crude words. They continue to talk about me, rather than to me, and even Merla’s eyes rove over me as though I am a choice cut of meat she wants to eat. The uneasy feeling hasn’t left me. I can practically see the wheels turning in Merla’s head. She’s plotting something, some scheme that Hazar is a part of. I cannot fathom what it is, cannot imagine how much worse these two can make things for me.
Merla, Hazar, and the medal decorated Drule aren’t the only new faces at dinner tonight. There’s at least three dozen, men and women representing the concerns of every sector of the Drule Empire’s reach. Not all of them deign to speak in a language I can understand, leaving me to suffer with my curiosity as they speak and laugh over our meal. Many looks are cast my way, bold, pointed ones, and ones of relief to see I am placed not at Lotor’s side, but shoved off to some dark corner with other undesirables that have fallen out of the King’s favor.
My unease leaves me to pick at my meal, and what little I do eat taste like dirt. I listen to the strong sound of confidant voices, the Drules always quick to quiet down whenever Lotor has something to say. Whatever he tells them eases much of the tension from the room, the Drules nodding, even smiling. They are looking towards me less and less, as though not even my continued presence in the dining room can take away the reassurances they have been given.
I am dying to know what is being said, just what is going on. It’s no mere coincidence so many important figures have come to Doom. But those who share my corner, are loathe to actually speak to me, their looks hostile or disinterested. I might as well be alone, for all that I am surrounded by people. I doubt even Lotor will tell me what is going on, for the King has never been one to talk much to me. Not when he prefers to spend our time together rutting like animals. I hold in my sigh, positive that tonight will be no different. Lotor will eat and drink his fill, say a few more reassuring words to the gathered throng of important figures, then drag me off to his bedroom. Perhaps we won’t even make it to the bedroom before Lotor begins pawing at me.
Such thoughts distract as well as depress me, my indifferent facade slipping. I reach quickly for a glass, practically downing the contents in one gulp. Hoping to deaden myself to feelings, or at least slip into a drunken haze that could somehow make this night more tolerable. I don’t fear the humiliation the wine could deliver me into, or truly note the danger that stalks me. I am too mired in pain and misery to even care that Merla is so obviously plotting something.
Gulping down the contents of a third glass whose wine burns my throat, I sit and seethe in misery. Wanting and wondering when the night will end, and knowing I have hours yet before Lotor will let me sneak in even a little bit of sleep between fulfilling his debauched desires. I end up sighing out loud, that heavy, depressed exclamation drawing the eyes of my dinner mates to me. It’s more emotion than I usually show, the Drules’ eyes narrowing in interest.
I don’t pay attention to signs that should warn me, fidgeting fingers over the stems of a fourth wine glass. The Drule seated to the right of me, gets up and leaves the table. A quick glance shows me that many of the Drules present have done the same, the large group mingling together to talk and laugh and wait for whatever entertainment’s Lotor will provide for the night. Some will settle for molesting the slaves while they wait, men AND women grabbing hold of the humans. It upsets me, but it is nothing new. Nothing I haven’t seen happen over a dozen times since arriving here on Doom. Nor do I feel concern for myself, thinking I am safe. Thinking so long as Lotor wants me, he won’t dare share my body with another.
It doesn’t mean the other males can’t keep from admiring me, from lusting after me. But aside from those who would insult me, none dare approach me. Especially not alone! Which is why it is so startling when the chair besides me is suddenly full. I can’t help but shift to sneak a look, and see the Drule who has decorated himself so proudly in medals. He smiles at me, having noticed my glance. His teeth, pearl white and glistening in the light, are sharp and deadly looking in his grin. He looks more monster than Lotor, lacking the King’s handsome looks. I nearly snort then, thinking to myself no one can be as big a monster as Lotor has proven to be, looks be damned.
“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.” The man says to me, bowing his head slightly. I say nothing, but meet his gaze directly. I am curious about this man, this Drule who would do more than just insult me. “I am Garrant and I hail from the Wernstein Quadrant.”
“Allura of Arus.” I tell him, allowing a self depreciating smirk to cross my lips. “But you already knew that I’m sure.”
A nod from him. “Everyone here knows who you are.” He tells me. “The former Queen of Arus, and a one time pilot of blue lion.”
It hurts to be reminded, a hurt I cover by drinking from my glass. “You are being kind.” I say at last. He lifts a scaly eyebrow in question. “The people here, they’ve called me many things, added many strongly worded descriptions to just who I am.”
“Foolish girl….good for only one thing. Proud queen too stupid to see past the nose on her face.” A casual pause, as I reach to take a bite of my left over meal. “Tease, strumpet. Lotor’s fucktoy.” The last is said with a bitterness I cannot hide, my teeth gnashing apart the meaty tidbit in my mouth. This Garrant watches me, his own gaze seeming to heat up as I use my tongue to lick at my lips. “I’m sure you’ve heard these things too.” I add, fighting not to glare out into the crowd of Drules. “They are not shy about speaking their minds about me.”
“I’ve heard the insults.” He agrees. “But I also heard talk of the sad state of things on Arus….”
“A state they would have you believe is entirely my fault.” I retort with real anger. Without realizing it, I am shaking, Garrant reaching over to pat my hand. I startle at his touch, but continue hissing out words. “It was Lotor and your former King who saw to the ruin of Arus. They are the ones who set into motion the situations I was unable to recover on my own!”
He doesn’t let go of my hand, Garrant instead stroking his thumb in soothing circles over the top. My other hand is free, reaching for a glass. He does the same, and we drink together.
“Is that why you came to Doom?”
“I was desperate.” I announce. “I wanted the help I thought Lotor could give me, give Arus….” My shoulders sag. “I was wrong.” I let out a bitter laugh. “But then….aren’t I always?” I break our gaze to stare down into my half empty glass, feeling my sadness outweigh the buzz I have received from all those drinks. “Can’t save Arus, can’t save my people, can’t even save myself…”
“King Lotor is wise.” Garrant words stir a rude noise from me. “I am sure he has looked at the situation and decided what is best for that world and it’s people.”
“Slavery is not the answer!” I snap back. “It never is!”
“Even when a people cannot rule themselves, when they are weak and floundering?” He questions sharply. “Allura, I have read the reports. We all have. Every last one of us present here, knows the dire straits Arus and it’s people face.”
“It’s because of the Drule.” I insist, lurching upright. Garrant rises with me, never letting go of my hand. The room seems to spin from my sudden movement, and only the Drule besides me is there to steady it. I find myself in his arms, his hold adjusted to grip me firmly with the intent to never let go. For all that I’ve had to drink, I am not yet so dull witted as to not be alarmed by the fact he is molding his body against mine.
My face grows hot, my cheeks surely red. “You Drule think you can take whatever you want, whenever you desire!”
“Can’t we?” Garrant demands, easily holding onto me as I began to struggle.
“You can’t!” My voice is raising, both alarm and anger in it’s tone. “We humans will never be content to just lay down and let you Drule rule over us!”
“You say that, but it happens all the time, on practically every world, in every sector. You and Arus are no different.” Garrant tells me with a purr.
“You’re wrong!” I shriek, drawing attention to what is happening. I am shoving my hands at his chest, trying to push free of his arms.
“Your hysterics prove nothing.” Garrant informs me. “Nor can a scream spare you or your planet from whatever fate our King decides for it.”
I let out a shriek, going wild in his arms. The room is spinning, I can’t catch my breath, can’t shake the queasy feeling churning in my stomach. I’ve panicked, and I don’t even realizing I’m calling out for Lotor, looking for him, anticipating his wrath unleashed on this Drule who is so insolent as to manhandle me in this way.
But it is not Lotor who speaks over my screams. “Garrant, if you can’t conduct your affairs in relative silence, then I suggest you take the girl and leave.” It’s Hazar I note, groping a silent, tear stained slave on his lap.
“A splendid idea!” grins Garrant, lifting me up off the floor with the intent to carry me out of the room. I continue beating my fists against him, hollering curses, demanding to be put down. The room seems too quiet, everyone just watching as Garrant easily carries me to the door. I’m casting my gaze around, trying to find Lotor.
“Lotor!” I gasp, when I catch sight of him next to Merla. He has risen from his seat, the Queen’s hand on his chest as though she attempted to hold him back. My eyes all but beg, pleading with Lotor to come rescue me from this situation.
“Lotor, you don’t mind, right?” Merla is saying, her voice loud enough to carry to me.
For one electric charged moment, my eyes lock with Lotor’s, my breath being held as Garrant stops to look the King’s way. He’s not the only one, the entire room of Drules are now looking at their King. Waiting in near breathless anticipation for what he will do.
They seem to sigh as one being when Lotor slowly turns his back on me. I am absolutely shocked, the emotions leaking into my face. It’s a look of pure betrayal that I wear, and it earns me a triumphant look from Merla. I can’t even process what the Queen’s look means, nor am I screaming anymore. I will not humiliate myself further to call out to a man that doesn’t care, that has never truly cared for me or about me. As I am carried out the room, my stunned stupor isn’t enough to keep me from wondering why it hurts so much to be abandoned so thoroughly by Lotor.