Humiliated before Katara

Azula’s grip on Sokka’s arm was vice-like as she dragged him through the dimly lit corridors of the palace. His feet stumbled over the polished stone, his body still trembling from the lingering sensation of the plug inside him. Every step sent a jolt of discomfort through him, a constant reminder of his submission. He wanted to resist, to fight back, but the weight of her dominance over him was suffocating, paralyzing.

“Hurry up, Sokka,” she hissed, her voice sharp and impatient. “I’m growing tired of your hesitation. Or do you need another reminder of who owns you?”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his mind too scattered. The humiliation burned in his chest like a fire he couldn’t extinguish. He wasn’t sure where she was taking him, but the dread pooling in his stomach told him it wasn’t going to be good.

The heavy doors to the throne room groaned as Azula pushed them open, the sound echoing ominously. Sokka’s breath caught in his chest as his eyes landed on the figure chained to the throne. Katara. His sister’s wrists were bound in thick, iron cuffs, her body slumped against the cold stone in defeat. Her blue eyes widened as she saw him, a mix of shock and fury flashing across her face.

“Sokka!” she cried, her voice breaking. “What the hell is going on? What has she done to you?”

Azula’s laughter cut through the air, sharp and cruel. She stepped forward, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “Oh, don’t worry, Katara. I’ve just been… educating your brother on his new role in this world. Isn’t that right, Sokka?”

He flinched at the sound of his name, his gaze dropping to the floor. He couldn’t look at Katara, couldn’t bear to see the disgust in her eyes. The shame was suffocating, crushing him under its weight.

Azula’s hand snaked around his waist, her fingers pressing against the base of the plug still lodged inside him. He gasped, his body tensing as she leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear. “Go on, Sokka. Show your sister what a good boy you’ve become.”

“No,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Please, don’t—”

But Azula wasn’t asking. Her other hand gripped his hair, yanking his head back as she pushed the plug deeper. A strangled cry escaped his lips, his body arching against his will. The pressure was unbearable, the humiliation even worse. He could feel Katara’s eyes on him, her horror palpable.

“What the hell are you doing to him?” Katara shouted, her voice trembling with rage. “Let him go, you monster!”

Azula ignored her, her focus entirely on Sokka. Her fingers moved with a relentless precision, pressing and twisting the plug in ways that made him gasp and writhe. “You see, Katara,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery, “your brother has a special talent. One that I’ve been… exploring. Isn’t that right, Sokka?”

He couldn’t answer. His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, his body trembling as she pushed him closer and closer to the edge. The shame burned in his chest, but there was no escaping it. No escaping her.

“Sokka, please,” Katara begged, tears streaming down her face. “Fight her! Don’t let her do this to you!”

His heart ached at the sound of her voice, the desperation in her tone. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her he was trying, but the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was whimper as Azula’s fingers worked him with a ruthless efficiency.

“Oh, Katara,” Azula purred, her voice low and dangerous. “You don’t understand. Your brother can’t fight me. He belongs to me now. Isn’t that right, Sokka? Tell her.”

He shook his head, his vision blurring with tears. “I… I…”

“Tell her!” Azula snarled, yanking his hair again.

The pain was sharp, immediate, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation of what came next. “I belong… to her,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Katara’s sobs echoed in the throne room, the sound tearing at his soul. Azula’s laughter followed, cold and merciless. “Good boy,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. “Now, let’s show her just how good you can be.”

Her fingers moved faster now, the plug twisting and pressing in ways that made his entire body tremble. The pressure built inside him, unbearable and inescapable. He tried to fight it, to hold back, but it was no use. Azula was relentless, her touch calculated to break him.

And break him she did.

With a strangled cry, Sokka’s body convulsed, his release tearing through him with a **** that left him gasping for air. The shame was overwhelming, but there was no denying the pleasure that came with it, no matter how much he hated it. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, his body trembling as Azula stood over him, her golden eyes gleaming with triumph.

“There we go,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now your sister knows exactly who you are. A pathetic, beta male who can’t even control himself when I’m around. Isn’t that right, Sokka?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His body felt heavy, his mind numb. The only thing he could hear was Katara’s sobs, the sound twisting the knife of shame even deeper.

Azula crouched down beside him, her fingers brushing against his cheek in a mockery of tenderness. “Don’t worry, Sokka,” she whispered. “We’re just getting started.”