The slave girl did not look up, too intent on her task of pleasing him. Smiling, Lotor opened both eyes now, a hand being raised to touch the back of the woman’s hair. A gentle prodding from him had the woman cease her lingering kisses, the slave taking the cue to see to the erection that was starting to tent beneath his blanket. Her hands reached for it, pulling the blanket down the rest of the way, the woman moving in such a manner that had her breasts pressing against his cock.
He twitched against her softness, Lotor doing a subtle shift of his hips that his cock wiggle into place between her breasts. The slave smiled, placing her hands so that they rested on either side of her breasts. It was in that position that she began to wiggle, allowing her breasts to rub up and down the length of Lotor’s cock. He hardened the rest of the way, biting back a soft hiss of pleasure as his head fell back against the pillows.
He couldn’t keep still, not with the sensations unfolding around his cock. Lotor bit his lip, and arched upwards, thrusting at a pace faster than what the slave had set. His cock slid back and forth, each time the tip coming closer to the slave’s chin. An urgent command was whispered out of him, Lotor demanding that she take the head into her mouth.
Dutifully, she obeyed him, parting her lips to mouth at the tip of his cock. His own fingers curled, nails digging into the bed sheets, Lotor seething in bliss at the feel of tongue licking daintily at his cock’s crown. She was an expert at teasing him, the slave digging the tip of her tongue into the slit of his cock, coaxing moisture out of it in the process. She lapped it all up, and then was pursing her lips, a gentle suction causing Lotor to see stars.
He was in the midst of crying out when the witch let herself into his room, the brown clad figure stalking towards the bed. She didn’t even have the decency to wait until he was finished, the witch standing there with a disapproving look on her face.
“Haggar!” Lotor exclaimed, annoyance in his tone at being seen in this manner by the witch. “What do you want? No don’t stop, my darling!” His hand was once again in the slave’s hair, forcing the woman to stay bent over his cock.
“I’ve come to collect you for your father.” Her tone was pure disgust, Lotor could see a slight curl of her top lip as she talked.
“My father?” His gasp had more to do with the insistent draw of the slave’s mouth then any surprise he felt at the witch’s words. “What does the old man want now?”
“I am under strict orders not to reveal that bit of information.” Haggar told him, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ll just have to satisfy your curiosity over the matter by going to see him!”
“Fine!” Lotor snapped, fighting not to grimace. The slave’s mouth was so tight around his cock it reminded him of a vise, her lips trying to draw out his climax with the force of a vacuum. He didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to experience such pleasure while being watched by Haggar. “You’ve delivered his invitation. Now go!”
“Not so fast, your highness.” Her voice was mocking him now, Haggar hardly displaying the proper respect his title deserved. “Your father insists I accompany you to the meeting place.”
“What, why?” The barest hint of sweat on his face, a drop of it rolling down his cheek as he fought to hold back his orgasm.
“For some reason he seems to feel you have been avoiding him lately.” Haggar answered, her smirk showing she noted the inner struggle he was experiencing. “Perhaps he suspects you already know what it is he wants to discuss with you.”
“Then wait outside!” Lotor snapped, almost groaning when Haggar shook her head no.
“Oh do hurry up and finish Lotor! I have to get you presentable for your father!” She gave an impatient wave of her hand, but other than that made no hint to move. Lotor swallowed his scream, and gave a few aggressive thrusts upwards into the slave’s mouth. His climax came seconds later, his seed pouring into the woman’s mouth to the point it spilled out, drops of it landing on her chest.
Lotor panted, feeling more of his come spurting out, the slave desperately trying to drink down as much of it as she could. “Did it feel good your highness?” Haggar’s taunt had him glaring. the prince making fists as he stared at the witch.
“Damn you witch!” Lotor snarled, shoving the slave away from him. He quickly wrapped a blanket around his lower half, trying for some mode of modesty around Haggar. “Are you satisfied now that you ruined my morning?!”
“Quite.” She smirked, turning to follow him with her eyes. Lotor grumbled under his breath, walking towards the door that led into his private bathroom. He was thankful for the privacy this room allowed him, the prince forcefully slamming the door shut behind him. Only then did he drop his blanket, proceeding to pad nude around the spacious bathroom.
He set about to cleaning himself up, getting the various soaps and shampoos needed to maintain the luxuriousness of his snow white mane. His bad mood translated into his actions, Lotor all but attacking his hair, fingers vigorous as they roughly massaged the shampoo into his scalp. He muttered under his breath as he did so, the prince wondering just what it was that his father could possibly want to see him for.
Several options presented themselves, Lotor wondering if he was going to get another talk about his drinking and womanizing ways. He hoped not, Lotor stifling a groan, thinking it would be better if his father was making ready to send him off on another war campaign. At least then he could avoid a lecture, Lotor knowing he’d bring his most favorite slaves with him to whatever Godforsaken planet his father sent him to conquer next.
He knew he had to be getting in a rut if even subjecting a new race of people bored him. It was always the same, his father would discover some unheard of planet, one that was rich with some kind of resource. He would quickly set his sights on getting that resource for their own empire, sending off hundreds of warships to force the people of the new planet into submission.
Usually he had Lotor handle all the details, a plot Lotor suspected was engineered to keep his attention focused away from claiming the throne. It usually worked too, Lotor being far too busy planning battles to even think about killing his father for his throne. But, as Lotor angrily rinsed off, if his father kept sending Haggar to give him an unpleasant start to his mornings, he’d soon find a way to dispose of Doom’s current ruler.
Growling softly, Lotor jerked open the shower’s glass door, stepping out onto the rug. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, and set about to combing out his hair. He wondered what presentable meant, Lotor knowing his father hated the fact that his son’s hair came down past his shoulder blades. Zarkon always said it made Lotor look more like a daughter than a son, but to the prince he thought it gave him a rakish air.
Continuing to run the comb through his hair, Lotor stared at his reflection, wondering what others thought when they saw him. He knew he lacked the otherworldly charms of his people, Lotor being one of those rare half breeds that were marked with all too human features. His skin was smooth instead of covered in scales, and colored a blue that was far too light when compared to that of the pure blooded Drules.
In the past he had experienced other people not taking him as seriously as they might have, not fearing him on sight as they would his minions. Lotor had had to be twice as ruthless as his subordinates, just to prove he was as mean and terror inducing as those pure bloods. But there was one advantage to his looks, and that was the reactions he got from the fairer sex. The women seemed to love him, absolutely adoring his playboy good looks.
Just thinking about the favorable responses he got from women had Lotor smiling at his reaction, the prince setting his comb down on the sink’s edge. His smile faded when he heard Haggar screech, the witch banging a fist on the bathroom door.
“Oh do hurry up your highness. King Zarkon does not like to be kept waiting!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Lotor shouted over his shoulder, pausing only long enough to slap some cologne on. When he opened the door of the bathroom, clothing was thrust before him, Hagagr’s tone brusque.
“Put this on.”
“I can choose my own clothes.” Lotor growled, snatching the proffered suit from Haggar’s hands. A quick glance at them saw she had favored him a black and royal purple combo, with a ruffled white undershirt that would go beneath the black jacket. It was a bit formal for a meeting with his father, Lotor lifting a brow at the witch. “Haggar, just what is going on?”
“You don’t have time to ask questions.” She said, making shooing motions with her hands. “Just get dressed, and quickly now.”
He stared at her a moment longer, than stepped back into the bathroom. He grudgingly put on the suit, pausing to stare at his reflection. Formal though the outfit may be, it still made him look good, his hair a bright contrast on the dark material of the jacket. Lotor nodded at the mirror, then stepped out into the bedroom, and this time Haggar made no move to stop him.
“Well…” She cast a critical eye over him, nodding to herself. “I suppose that’s the best we’re going to get…” She reached into her robe, and pulled out a hair tie, holding it towards Lotor. “Come on, tie your hair back and we’ll leave.”
“My hair is fine the way it is.” Lotor said, brushing past her and the hair tie. He heard her sigh, her robes rustling as she turned to follow him.
“Honestly Lotor, your father just wants you to make a good impression…” she trailed off with a gasp, Lotor turning to look at her.
“A good impression on who?” Lotor demanded, suspicion in his tone. “And don’t say no one. Neither one of us will believe that, and you know it!”
A nervous titter of laughter from Haggar, the witch hurrying out into the hall. “It’s just someone your father wants you to meet….”
“‘Who?” Lotor asked, and now it was his turn to stalk after the witch. “Who could possibly rate all this early morning fuss?!”
“I’ve said enough.” Haggar retorted, walking with her attention riveted on the path ahead of her. “You’ll just have to get your answers from your father.”
“Don’t whine at me!” She snapped, turning a corridor’s corner. “You’re old enough that it’s not cute. Not…” She added quickly under her breath. “That there is much to be found cute about you at any rate.” Those words left Lotor scowling, the prince glaring at the witch’s backside.
His father was waiting for them in his private study, a room of hard polished floors, and dark cherry blood wood. The wood was so named because of the blood red specks that were ingrained on the surface, bright bits of color against an otherwise dark brown color. Zarkon made the red stand out even more by having red curtains for drapes, and a red rug with swirling black accents for it’s patterns.
There wasn’t much furniture to be found in this room, Zarkon going for a minimalist style. A brown leather couch took up most of the space in the center of the room, with a delicate glass table sitting situated before it. The king had been lounging against red cushions when the guards announced Lotor and Haggar’s arrival, Zarkon leaping to his feet to come towards the pair.
Lotor could see his father looking him over, searching for something to find fault with. He found it in his hair, Zarkon grunting out his disapproval. “If you’re not going to chop off that unruly mane, at least tie it back and out of my sight!”
“Say one more word about my hair, and I am leaving father.” Lotor told him, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Zarkon made a sound, a hmph of disgust, glancing at Haggar. The witch shrugged, as though wanting to say she had no part in Lotor’s current hair style.
“Don’t be in such a rush son.” Zarkon said, not so much as a half smile lightening the glower on his face. “We have matters to discuss.”
“So Haggar tells me.” Lotor retorted. “Just who is this person I am supposed to meet?”
“You’ll meet THEM soon enough.” Zarkon assured him, Lotor frowning at the plural use of the word.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking Lotor…” Zarkon turned away, pacing towards the small bar he kept stocked in his study. “Mainly about you, and your familial obligations.”
“My obligations?” Lotor repeated, not liking the sound of that one bit.
“Yes.” Zarkon was already pouring out a drink, a citrine colored liquor whose aroma drifted over to Lotor from across the room. “There are certain…expectations that come with the crown of Doom. You should know this Lotor, and know it well.”
“I’ve done plenty for Doom.” Lotor protested. “I’ve won the Empire countless planets, thousands of slaves, earned several lifetimes of fortunes in money and jewels. What more could there be?”
“Family Lotor.” Zarkon said, taking a long sip of his drink. “There’s family.”
“I have no family save for you!” Lotor retorted, earning a pointed look from Zarkon.
“Yes. I know. And that brings me to our current dilemma.” Zarkon took another sip, leaving Lotor to hang on his words. “I’m not going to live forever Lotor. Even I know and accept this.”
“You do?” interrupted Lotor, shocked to hear this.
Zarkon nodded, gazing thoughtfully at his glass. “We need to keep the throne in the family…keep it from falling into the hands of less…noble a blood line…”
“Yes…” Lotor agreed, wondering what his father was getting at.
“Our blood has ruled Doom for centuries….and I intend for it to continue for centuries more.” Continued Zarkon. “Which is why, you need to marry.”
Lotor felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath him, the prince gaping at his father. Distantly he could hear Haggar laughing, a grating cackle that set his nerves on edge. “Marry? Me?!”
“Yes, Lotor.” Zarkon answered. “It falls to you to keep the family line going. Now I understand that in the past, you have shown a distinct lack of…enthusiasm when it came to choosing a princess to marry.”
“That’s because every one you’ve introduced me to has been deadly dull in comparison to the company I normally keep.” Lotor snapped. “They all lack fire, a certain spirit that I require. Or they are fortune hunters, with the eye for the crown, and shortening MY life span to get it!”
“All good reasons, but you can’t delay this any longer Lotor.” Zarkon said. “You are nearing your mid twenties, time enough to have settled down and started a family.”
“I’ll start a family when I’m good and ready too…”
“You’ll start a family on my say so!” Zarkon’s voice boomed out, the king slamming his glass down so violently it shattered. Besides him, Haggar jumped at the action, the witch taken aback by the king’s outburst.
“Why the rush?” Lotor demanded, thinking he was in need of a good stiff drink. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Would I keep secrets from you son?”
“In a heart beat.” Lotor retorted, not liking his father’s attempts to play innocent. Zarkon smiled at that.
“I do this for my own reasons, the least of all wanting to see my grandchildren before I die.”
A sneaking suspicion was working it’s way through Lotor, the prince staring hard at his father. Did the king bear more lines on his face? Was it Lotor’s imagination or was Zarkon looking haggard, with deep bags underneath the eyes that hinted at a lack of sleep? He couldn’t tell if his father lost some weight, the robes were too baggy and covered much of his frame.
“You’re not….dying are you?” Lotor asked, and even to him his father looked uncomfortable at that question.
“Of course not!” Zarkon said, forcing a laugh. “I just want to see my son happy and wed.”
“Since when?” Lotor demanded, voice sharper than he meant to. “You’ve never cared about my happiness!”
“Fine, I want to see you married and miserable!” Zarkon snapped. “Either way, you’re going to do this! And you’re going to do this today!”
“And just where will I find this bride?” Lotor demanded, ill at ease at the smile Zarkon flashed him.
“I have taken the liberty of selecting several candidates for you.”
“How lucky for me.” Groused Lotor, stepping towards his father and the bar. He was surprised when Haggar stopped him, the witch shaking her head no.
“You’ll need a clear head, sire.” She said, hand on his arm. “You’ll be making a decision that will affect the rest of your life.” All the more reason for Lotor to want that drink, the prince not looking forward to this bridal selection process.
“Come son!” Zarkon urged him, smirking. “Don’t look so down. It is not a fate worse than death. After all, the brides I have brought before you are beautiful, and each comes with a planet of her own, eager to align her world with ours.”
“Wonderful…so everyone gets something out of this except for me.” Lotor grumbled. It was not a fate worse than death, but to Lotor, it felt like his whole life was ending…!