Disclaimer – Avatar: the Last Airbender, Azula, and Zhao do not belong to me. I make no profit off this story.
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He lay there, tied to the bed with silk scarves. Azula would have used chains, only these were too conspicuous and harder to carry around or conceal. His flesh tingled from the hot wax that she had dripped along his body, her perfectly manicured hand tilting the candle masterfully.
For what seemed the thousandth time, he wondered what he was doing spread-eagled and bare, completely submissive to a thirteen-year old girl. Said girl was frightening at times, and despite the warm color of her eyes, they burned with a cold fire. She was a master of that art already – more than deserving of the title of prodigy – while powerful men old enough to be her grandsire could not even produce a spark of lightning.
He opened his lips, about to speak, to plead for her to stop. Before he could get one syllable out, a sharp slap stung his cheek. During these sessions, she hated it when he spoke without her permission. Even pleading without her permission usually earned him more punishment, unless she was in a generous mood – which was rare. And 'generous' with her was relatively speaking, of course.
When they had started this, he had had a completely different idea of how it would turn out. Their courtship – for lack of a better word, had started with subtle glances, a smirk here and there. He knew she was feisty, but he was sure that he would be the dominant one in the relationship. He didn't love her – neither of them were capable of this emotion, but who needed it? She was a stunning girl, certainly she would be his most valuable conquest, and a way to gain even more power.
But he had done neither. She had conquered him, and had the power over him. This he often mused bitterly as she exercised her power over him again and again in all kinds of ways, some he found to be extremely humiliating. He was just glad that all of these humiliations were private.
He had tried to find himself a way out of this predicament. But the glint in her eyes and her cruel smirk promised terrible things in hold for him, and also let him know that she was more than ready to unleash her wrath in a thousand forms of punishment should he ever attempt such a thing. At times, he wondered if she had deliberately trapped him, like a cat who had a mouse by its tail and did not plan to feast just yet.
The vaunted Commander let out a low groan as he felt metal clamp down on a very sensitive area of his anatomy.
Why did he keep coming back to her? There were countless other women he could conquer – and be assured it would be that, instead of the other way around. And a small part of himself still hoped to obtain more power through her. But every time the Princess fixed her pools of dark gold on him, he felt her power wash over him. He could command others so easily, even decide the outcomes of their lives. But the brilliant and lethal girl held his life in her hands – figuratively and literally.
He lay there, trying to ignore the dull pain and his gaze fixed at the ceiling. Before her slap brought his attention back to her, he had been thinking one thing. I should have tried to seduce the Prince, not her.