Ozai's silvery voice caresses her ear. It makes her skin ripple in goosebumps. "Breathe, little waterbender. Inhale." He inhales against her neck slowly. "Exhale." He blows his hot breath on her ear. "Even an aroused little girl like you can do that."
No, she isn't… She can't be.
A mixture of need and shame makes her body tremble. Is he mocking her? Unconvincingly, she tries to push him off but he captures her wrists easily, traps them above her head against the cool wall of his chambers. Does he really intend to have her this time? Or is he just playing games with her again, like he always does? Biding his time, toying with her. He had all the time in the world.
Katara shivers when he nips the lobe of her ear, almost gently, and the irony of it feels so wrong, so sinfully alluring. She fixes her eyes on the ornately molded ceiling above and tells herself she doesn't like it. Ozai sucks, nibbles, pulls with those perfect smooth lips and she tries so hard to conceal her pleasure, but her traitorous body squirms helpless under his skillful touch. He is smirking against her neck now. He knows exactly what he's doing to her and he's enjoying it.
His silky tongue trails from the hollow of her throat to the side of her neck. He knows he'll get what he wants, when he wants it, and is taking his time to savor his prey. He places soft kisses all over her collarbone, her jaw, her neck. When he nibbles her tender flesh softly, she realizes she's panting. Katara's hands clench above her head.
The nibbling becomes harsh. He doesn't care if she ends up marked. He intends to mark her, the way he always does. Mine, he was saying. She doesn't want to admit how she has come to enjoy his animalistic touch, the way it sends electric currents sweeping through her.
Ozai keeps Katara's wrists captive in one hand. The other forces her thighs to part before it finds its way under the hem of her short little slip, caressing the back of her thigh, her hips, her waist. And suddenly she can't think about anything but the way his touch is shooting bolts of electricity down to her core, skimming higher, higher.
One large hand slides to the small of her back and roughly pulls her lower body into the impossible hardness at his crotch. He grinds against her heat once, again, eliciting a gasp, and then resumes his assault on her neck.
His smirk against her skin tells her that he finds her arousal amusing. Heat flares on her cheeks and spreads to her chest. Her teeth clench tight in shame. She won't give him the satisfaction. He won't hear her respond to his touch. Stubbornly, Katara bites her tongue to suppress a moan every time he nibbles her skin.
And Ozai quickly senses it, rises to the challenge. One by one, he releases the satin ties down the center of her slip but doesn't take it off. He slides the garment off just her right shoulder and trails soft kisses there, driving her crazy. She never thought of her shoulders as an erogenous zone before, but they seem to have a direct link to the nerves at her core. Waves of pleasure course through her and gather in a spot between her legs. His hungry lips at her shoulders cause her parted dress to slide off slowly until it falls to the floor in a pool of red.
Katara can barely breathe. His eyes rake up and down her body, and she instinctively tries to cover herself but his strong hold remains firm. Her nudity makes her feel extremely vulnerable. Exposed. And aroused.
Ozai's breath fans over one hardened nipple before his hot mouth takes it in. Her head falls back against the wall, and her body squirms, her throat burning from the exceptional effort it takes to suppress her moans. She's never felt a pleasure like this before. It's so new and crushing and overwhelming.
His teeth nibble her tightened flesh slowly. When his tongue flicks quickly over her nipple, she reaches her limit. She tries to kick him away, but his muscular body blocks it.
"No," he growls, low and silky.
Then he starts sucking at her tender flesh as though his life depends on it. Katara writhes in an attempt to get her breast out of his greedy mouth, but the Phoenix King ignores her attempts to escape his torture. Ozai speaks hot against the damp skin of her breast.
"Not a chance. I will hear you moan, little girl."
He tortures the other nipple before brushing her lips lightly with his, the black silk of his hair sweeping her now bare skin. Dangerously, she refuses to part her lips when he lightly runs the tip of his tongue over her lower one. Nibbling his way into her mouth, he forces her lips to part, and she becomes lost in his kiss. The way she always does. His mouth has never been more possessive than it is tonight and he kisses her hard. Is he finally going to stop toying with her and have her?
She can't take the onslaught anymore, and she comes up for air in desperate pants. Ozai attentively watches her pathetic attempts to regain control of her body and the vulpine smirk on his face tells her he is thoroughly enjoying her inexperience.
Just when she is about to lose all sense of control, Ozai lifts her over his shoulder, as though she weighs nothing at all, and crosses the room in a flurry of lust-clouded adrenaline. He throws her down with little care on his enormous, luxurious bed.
In a mix of nerves and desire, she watches as he strips off his robes before her. It's the first time she has fully seen him and Katara had she never appreciated how truly magnificent his body is before now. His strong masculine chest, muscled stomach, a perfect V line. Broad shoulders and powerful arms.
She swallows tight and tries to escape from the bed, but she gasps when he forcefully pushes her down with his body. His weight restrains her, and the contact of their bare skin feels electrifying. She is powerless under his control and in spite of herself, it only arouses her more.
Katara pushes him, but it's a halfhearted attempt, and one more time Ozai traps her wrists with his hand above her head. His breath tickles her when he skims her neck up and down with his nose, inhaling deeply.
The moment he forcefully parts her legs with his knee, her stomach goes hard and she looks up at him wide-eyed. His face is intense, and she can tell. This time he intends to take her.
Somehow an unthinkable part of her doesn't want him to stop, but another part of her is screaming to come to her senses. Not with him. Not like this. He is her captor. He had destroyed everything and everyone she loved. She fights against his hold but it is like fighting a marble statue. She is no match for his superior strength.
Ozai looks down at her sternly. His voice is powerful and commanding. "Don't fight me, little waterbender. It will be worse for you." He grinds against her, making her gasp. She shivers when he breathes against her ear and his voice comes on a deep, husky tone. "Just relax and you may even enjoy it."
Slowly, he runs his hand downwards, reaching that intimate, scandalously soaked place between her legs. A satisfied groan builds in his throat and his lips curl sharply. "So wet for me," he growls.
A deft finger circles a sensitive spot gently and she bites her lip hard to not cry out, feels the groan burning in her throat.
Oh, spirits!
Katara never imagined it would feel this good. She had experimented of course, had done a few things with Aang, but it never went far and they'd both lacked the experience–
Without warning, Ozai takes her most sensitive spot between two fingers and Katara chokes back a loud moan. He doesn't stop, stroking sensually, skillfully. And she can't hold back anymore. She cries out loudly, her head tipping back, and her response encourages him to increase the pressure. He's as much an expert in the art of giving pleasure as he is manipulation.
All at once, he eases the pressure and leaves her wanting, burning. His finger, coated in her slick, circles that spot again, only teasingly light this time, and she barely suppresses the moan. She feels the desperate need to writhe in response, to increase the friction and pressure, but his weight is holding her down and he is careful not to provide her with too much stimulation. Teasing, taunting.
His touch trails lower and she sucks in a breath as he enters her with a single finger. A low hum of approval sounds in his chest when her inner walls contract around it.
"So tight," he breathes as he curls his finger, expertly stimulating and massaging another extremely sensitive spot inside her. His breath scorches her skin. "I can't wait to put my cock in here."
Shocks of pleasure radiate through her body when he begins to rhythmically move his finger in and out. His hand is so big and each time his finger slides in, he deftly presses his palm to her clit. She can't suppress her whimper. She is going to explode into a thousand tiny pieces. One more touch and she will unravel. She will never survive this.
"Please…" Her heart pounds furiously and she speaks through heavy pants. "Please, I–"
"Please?" he crooned deeply. "Please what?"
Sweat beads on her brow. "…Stop, I… I can't–"
After a moment, he lifts his muscular body slightly, giving her room to writhe and breathe. But when she finally can, his finger slips out of her and he draws his hands back. Disgraced, she feels the appalling need for his touch like the need to breathe.
And he reads it in her face, smirking sharply, and the shame in her intensifies.
"You said stop. Is that not what you want?"
Her cheeks are on fire. "I– I don't…"
"You should choose your words carefully, little girl. It forestalls disappointment." His voice is huskier than usual, heavy with desire, his eyes dragging over her body. "My, if only you could see how beautiful you look, how perfect and helpless… underneath me like this. Vulnerable. Aroused…"
"I'm not–" she squeaks and Ozai lifts a single, dark brow knowingly.
"No?" he croons. She meets his gaze with a look she hopes is strong enough to hide the truth. The sneer that spreads across his face tells her it isn't. "That is a lie, my dear."
Katara's heartbeat is pulsing in her ears and she can hardly think, every nerve ending screaming for his touch again but refusing to admit it.
"And I'm afraid I can't allow such disrespect to go unpunished."
His hands reach over her and from behind she hears the clink of metal on metal, and before she can think, there's the bite of something cold and sharp against her wrists. A dart of panic cuts through the pleasure in her core. He's bound her to the bedframe.
"Hmm. Now what do you think would be a fitting punishment?" His hand trails down her bare stomach to the soft curls between her thighs and Katara gasps in anticipation of the knife's-edge of pleasure, certain he's going to stroke her again as he did before.
But he doesn't. Instead, he only toys with her curls, tugging on them in a way that only sharpens the desperate ache. And on the heel of it comes the shame again, hot and bitter. She wants to hide her face, to roll over, burrow under the sheets and never come out.
Ozai leans down and takes one tightened nipple into his mouth, nibbles hard, drawing a helpless moan from her throat.
"I asked you a question." His voice is full of command and rough heat. Katara is shivering, her hips trembling, aching to move against his hand. But she refuses to answer and she refuses to give him the satisfaction of begging.
His golden eyes flash at her insolence, but she knows by now that the thrill of resistance only serves to entice him further. Torturous fingers slide through her curls, stopping bare inches from her exquisitely sensitive nub. So close, yet too far. Tormenting her. She tries to lift her hips to encourage his touch, loathing herself for wanting it, but he doesn't move his fingers any further. His smug smile broadens.
"Such a stubborn girl. A beautiful, feral creature." A darker, rougher note tinged his tone now and his lips curl. "But don't you know, my dear? Even the wildest creatures, in time, can be broken."
He strokes her outer lips then with a single teasing finger, so achingly far away from the place it needs to be. Katara stares fiercely past him at a spot on the wall.
"Do you know what I think?" he asks, smooth and silky. His stroking finger pauses. Grudgingly, she looks at him. "I think you really want this punishment. I think you desire it more than you want to admit."
Grinding her teeth, she turns her head away, but Ozai grips her chin with strong fingers, turning her face to him again. She can't avoid those intense gold eyes. Holding her gaze, Ozai leans his imposing form over her, gripping her chin firmly enough that she can't turn away. Then he bends his head and brushes his mouth over hers, a light, sensual promise that made her shiver all the way down to her toes.
She keeps her eyes shut, even after he breaks the kiss, afraid to look at him. Afraid of what she might see there. Afraid of what his next touch will be. Fear beginning to crowd out the desire. Would he make it hurt? He hasn't hurt her yet, not really, not in the two months – or had it been three? – that she had been his, since the world went up in flames, but she knows Ozai is no stranger to inflicting pain. And now she is at his mercy.
At his next touch, she flinches. But there is no pain. Only his gentle hands on her face, stroking carefully, running his thumb along her jawline, down her throat. His warm palms cup her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs.
"I know what you are thinking," he says as his hands drift over her. "But I'm not going to hurt you." Pressure on her nipples as he pinches them, but not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to send an arrow of sensation straight between her thighs, making her gasp. "No. Instead, I want you to keep your eyes closed, stay still, and do not make a sound. I'm sure you can manage that, determined as you were to do so earlier. If you disobey, there will be consequences."
Katara swallows hard. Ozai smiles, as a cat smiles. It was always more fun to play with a live mouse.
"Tell me. Has anyone ever made you come, little girl?" he growled, his hot breath tickling her already flushed skin.
Every word, every touch is so wrong and it shouldn't be making her feel this way. She trembles. "I don't know…"
He grins and she realizes with a flush of embarrassment that of course that must mean no one ever had.
"I'm going to show you. I am going to make you come so hard you'll be begging for all that I plan to do you. But right now, as your punishment…" Another pinch, making her shudder like a tree in the path of an oncoming storm. "You are not permitted to come until I say. Nod if you understand."
She wants to deny everything, that she doesn't want this, that she doesn't want him. But that, of course, is a lie and she knows it. Still, she is afraid. He promised not to hurt her, but what if she is unable to stay still or quiet?
What choice does she have? She is handcuffed to the bed beneath this very dangerous man. And somehow the thought awakes a dark passion inside her like river-silt stirred up from its beds. She gives him the small nod he wants and closes her eyes tightly.
"Good girl," he purrs. He rolls her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, sending more jolts of electricity through her, another soft gasp escaping her throat. He pinches, hard, and she jumps, her eyes snapping open on instinct to find him staring intensely. "I said be quiet. Another sound like that and I might have to do something you won't like."
Katara shudders and almost asks what it might be, but stops herself at the last moment. She closes her eyes again and all questions dissipate like smoke as his hands begin to move downward, trailing over the curve of her waist to the modest swell of her hips. He strokes her gently, softly, tracing her hipbones with his fingers and sweeping his thumbs over her stomach, making all her muscles tense and her breath come in fractured gasps.
He moves lower, his hands caressing her thighs, easing them apart. The handcuffs clink against the metal as she jerks, unable to stop the motion as she feels his fingers press firmly against her inner thighs, holding them wide, his thumbs easing over the hot, slick flesh of her pussy, spreading her open. Katara tenses, heat washing over her skin in waves.
"Perfect," he murmurs, and she feels him shift on the bed, his hands keeping up the pressure on her thighs. "Stay just like that. Don't move a muscle."
And she realizes in that moment, she wants to do exactly what he says, but not only to escape punishment. She wants to please him. To hear him say more of those warm, encouraging things, to hear him tell her what a good girl she is. It's chastening how much she wants to hear that from him, how badly her soul seems to crave the words, the affection.
So Katara shivers and shakes but doesn't move a muscle. Staying silent and still, fighting not to moan as the warmth of his breath steals over the tender skin of her inner thigh. Then the burn of a kiss there, like an ember, pressing against her flesh. And again, on the other side.
"I have been waiting a long time to taste you." His voice was a gravelly whisper. "But it's going to be difficult for you when I do, because I do not intend to go easy on you. Understand?"
She knows he is baiting her for an answer, testing her, and that would mean speaking and he had told her to be quiet, so she doesn't respond and braces herself for what's coming instead.
Heat. A burst of white-hot pleasure. His tongue licking right up the center of her sex, slow and easy, as if he has all night to drive her insane. Her hands pull against the handcuffs, curling into fists and her breathing makes tearing sounds as she fights to stay silent, his sinful, wicked tongue concentrating on her clit, circling and teasing the way he had with his fingers.
Light explodes behind her eyes and she twists on the bed, her back arching. Tears are leaking out from under her closed lids and she can't stop them. And then she doesn't care, the pleasure coiling like a giant snake inside her, a hard, tight knot pulling tighter and tighter. She lifts her hips, trying to get some friction, anything to ease the tension, but he simply holds her hips firmly down on the bed.
"What did I say about keeping still?" His voice is hard with warning so she forces herself to lie flat, staying as motionless as possible.
Ozai wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't make it easy for her. Keeping her spread wide, he nibbles and sucks at her clit before licking her again in that lazy way, like she was an ice cream melting in the sun. And she pants and bites her lip to keep from screaming as everything begins to get more and more desperate.
He spreads his hands on her thighs, applying pressure to force her legs even wider apart, before covering her pussy completely with his mouth, his tongue pushing into her, deep and slow. Pressure begins pulling tight to an excruciating point and her mouth opens in a silent scream, shuddering helplessly, beginning to crack under the sheer weight of sensation. And as the pleasure becomes an agony, she is conscious of only one thing.
She will take this. She will obey. He wants her to break and she will show him that she won't, that she's strong, as much in defiance as to make him proud.
All sense of reality is shattered. There is nothing except the mind-blowing feel of his tongue on her and the gentle tease of his fingers on her thighs, and the blaze of agonized pleasure that just went on and on, never ending, all consuming.
"What a good little girl," Ozai whispers at last against her wet, swollen flesh. "But it's time to stop now. Come for me now, Katara. Scream for me."
He flicks his tongue against her painfully hard clit and the world explodes. Terrifying and exhilarating, an eruption of pleasure she had never felt before. And she comes for him, screams for him, and falls apart, sobbing and sobbing as the endless waves of pleasure roll over her.
Her head is still swimming in euphoria as he unclasps the handcuffs, her arms falling limp to her sides. And then his hands grab her waist. Ozai sits on his heels and brings her spent body up, putting his arms around her. Involuntarily, she runs her hands up his muscular chest.
A humming vibration from his throat tells her he likes her touch, but he stops her possessively. Ozai takes her hands and clasps them behind her back in one of his. Of course, he will not share control. He leans, pushing her down until she's arching her back on the edge of the bed. Her head falls back.
In this position, she can look at them in the wardrobe's mirror. He's hovering over her; her breasts are lifted up and dangerously close to his mouth. The way he keeps her hands prisoner makes her look helpless. The contrast between their sizes, their ages, and their power becomes evident. She's the prey and he's the predator. She's about to be devoured. She's about to be taken. In the reflection, their eyes meet, fire and water. Ozai is strikingly handsome and the way he's looking at her now ignites her desire.
When his lips clasp her breast and suck harshly, she breathes a moan as incredible pleasure runs through her body. He looks confident when he takes off his silk trousers with just one hand, and the mirror reflects his full erection. Her eyes widen. She had felt him as he'd grinded against her, and it had felt big then, and rock-hard, but now she sees just how big he is. How is that possibly going to fit inside her? She writhes nervously. She knows what he's about to do will hurt.
His hardness brushes against her swollen lower lips. Once and again and again, drenching himself in her wetness. Massaging in all the right places. Ripples of pleasure shoot through her body and pool between her legs.
"Hmm. How will I take you?"
Lifting her up higher, Ozai sits on his heels and forces her to straddle him just over his erection. Their faces are closer now. She looks up at him nervously. In his fiery eyes she sees a glimmer of what she imagines might be affection mingling with the lustful determination to possess her.
Ozai's hands dig into the tender flesh of her thighs, and his mouth descends on her lips, devouring them hungrily. With the tip of his erection he's teasing her entrance.
"Will I take you this way?"
He slips in, just the barest fraction, and she gasps, feeling herself spread already. Every muscle in her body feels tense, bracing for whatever he intends to do to her. He's taken full control of her body and won't share it with her, and she knows he'll take her in any way he wants. And, yet, her body is yearning for him and she can't bring herself to ask him to stop.
As though she is a toy, he forcibly turns her again, and now she's under him. One hand holds her immobile by her throat. The other grabs her left knee to force her leg to bend.
"Or this way?" he says as his now soaked tip presses against her entrance with more pressure, bringing agony and ecstasy into her weakened body. Her already wide eyes open impossibly wider. She whimpers loudly, and the hand on her throat slides to her breast. The tip retreats and he sucks and bites all over her shoulders. Her breasts. Her stomach. Marking her.
Then, he flips her over until she's crouching on all fours. One of his hands is still keeping hers behind her back, and the other forces her torso down so her breasts press the mattress. She wriggles, and his hold strengthens. She hasn't ever felt so exposed. So helpless. He keeps teasing her lower lips with the tip of his erection, his hips circling, swaying, each time opening her more and more, each time bringing a fresh wave of pain.
He slides inside her millimeter by millimeter at first, before he stops. She's panting, knowing what was coming next. His voice is husky, sensual.
"I think I'll take you…" In a swift movement he thrusts forward, pulling her hips back. "…this way." A sudden, searing pain, as though he's driven a molten hot spike through her, and his full, thick length is inside her to the hilt. Katara cries out, muffled against the mattress.
He growls and doesn't move for a long moment. "Ungh, so fucking tight."
Tears sting her eyes and her hands fist the sheets in an attempt to diminish the pain. She's breathing harshly. Beads of sweat cover her skin as her body struggles to accommodate his size.
"Please, stop," she begs through gritted teeth, struggling to no avail against him, which brings more searing pain, but also an uncomfortable kind of pleasure. Ozai pulls back until only his tip is inside her, and she breathes in relief before he slams back inside her, making her flinch and whimper.
Only this time, he doesn't stop. With his hands on her hips, he begins thrusting deeper, harder, picking up speed with each thrust. She clings to the bed with all her strength, and the searing pain, little by little, gets intertwined with a pleasure she never imagined existed until this night. The fullness, the connection between their bodies, the way their naked skin grinds together in animalistic lust.
With each of his thrusts, he yanks her back against him. Each time, he works her body differently. Each time, he seems to be trying out which angle makes her body react the most.
And when he finds the best angle, the pounding begins. He thrusts in a merciless accelerating rhythm, and she screams into the mattress. She can't decide if she's in heaven or hell. Is this pleasure? Is this pain? All she knows is that the most intense sensations are coursing through her body and making her scream.
The dizzying, glorious sensations are too much. She squeaks and desperately clenches her fists, carving halfmoons into her palms. Her hips start to move on their own, adjusting to his rhythm, and that only makes the pleasure increase. A deep purr of arousal rumbles in his throat. He speeds up even more into a punishing pace. It's driving her mad.
Deep within her the pleasure starts to grow, making her whimper uncontrollably. He's pushing her closer and closer to the edge again.
"Don't fight it this time, little girl. Let yourself go."
Her muscles stiffen before her body bursts in waves of unadulterated bliss for the second time tonight. She repeatedly screams, a current of shattering pleasure making her body spasm violently, so intense she thinks she might drown, her inner walls contracting tight around him and Ozai grunts. A white haze is the only thing her mind can register. And ecstasy. Sheer, delicious ecstasy.
She struggles to catch her breath and comes back from her bliss, opening her bleary eyes, and sees herself in the mirror. Ozai pounds into her in a relentless rhythm, rocking her small body beneath him. He's so rough that her breasts burn against the comforter, and her reflection looks closer to pain than pleasure. He looks so in control, so violent. And in stark contrast she looks young and powerless. But the mirror doesn't reflect how much she loves this. The fullness, the roughness of it. She never imagined how much she would.
Ozai's thrusts become erratic. His body jerks into her in short, swift bursts before he goes rigid and growls. She feels his heat radiate inside her, feels the pulsing throb of his virility.
For a long time, there is only heavy breathing in the quiet of the Phoenix King's chambers. She lays there under him for a long time, trying to collect her thoughts with his weight and her post-orgasmic weakness keeping her prisoner.
She feels sore, heavy, but gloriously spent and surprisingly grateful. She will do anything to please this man who taught her body how to feel. She examines her reflection in the mirror as Ozai pulls out of her sensitive pussy, making her shiver, and lies down beside her. Does she look different now? Would anyone notice the change in her? Was there anyone left who knew her well enough to notice?
Aang, he might notice. Sokka and her father, maybe. Toph would sense something. And Zuko? She didn't get a chance to know him well enough to say. But she can imagine the horror on his face if he found out what his father is doing to her now.
She doesn't know where they are. If they're even alive. And Ozai never tells her, despite how many times she asks, over and over, despite her tears and pleading.
"You belong to me now."
He pulls her into his chest and brushes the hair from her face, almost dotingly. Katara sighs against him, a warmth fluttering in her stomach as his powerful arms enfold her. His hand strokes through her hair and despite the man Ozai is – cruel, powerful, dangerous – she can almost believe he cares for her.
And that is the cruelest thing of all.