The warm water still clung to her skin, beading on her shoulders and sliding down her spine. She stood in the center of the cell, steam curling around her thighs, and let herself breathe. The coarse cotton dress waited on the shelf, untouched. She wouldn't put it on. Not yet. It felt like accepting something.
She pressed her palms flat against the damp stone wall, feeling the cold seep into her fingers. Her fire was still dead. The earthbending collar had been replaced with a thinner one—still suppressing. But she was clean. For the first time in a day, she had washed the sweat and cum and humiliation from her skin. It mattered. She was still a princess.
The door scraped open.
Taro stepped in first, that lazy grin already stretching across his face. Korruk followed, filling the doorway with his broad frame. Mira came last, quiet as ever, her gray eyes sweeping the room with clinical precision.
"Ah. Clean princess," Taro said, drawing out the words. "Almost didn't recognize you without the come dried on your thighs."
Azula turned, squared her shoulders. Her voice came out steady. "You came back. Brave of you."
Taro laughed. "Still got that tongue. Good. We're gonna put it to work."
She didn't flinch. She held his gaze, let her lips curl into something like her old smirk. "I'll bite it off before I—"
Korruk moved. Three steps, no warning, no sound. His hand closed around her jaw, fingers digging into the hinge, and he shoved her backward until her spine hit the stone wall. The impact knocked the air from her lungs.
"No," he said, his voice low and flat, "you won't."
She clawed at his wrist, nails raking his skin. He didn't react. His other hand went to the waistband of his trousers, undoing them with slow, deliberate motions.
Taro circled behind her. She felt his hands on her hips, turning her, bending her forward. The wall scraped her cheek. "Hands flat," he said. "Ass out. You know the position by now."
She tried to straighten. Korruk's palm slammed between her shoulder blades, pressing her flat against the cold stone. The dress was still on the shelf. She was naked, exposed, wet from her washing. The steam rose around them.
Korruk's hand found her cunt from behind. Thick fingers, calloused, pushing between her folds without preamble. She gasped—not from pleasure, from the violation of being touched there again. He grunted, feeling her wetness. "Still slick from the wash," he muttered. "Or maybe you're just ready."
"I'm not—" Her voice cracked. She bit her lip.
Mira spoke from somewhere near the door. "Her breath is hitching. She's scared, but she's trying to hide it. The left hand is trembling."
Taro laughed. "She's analyzing you, princess. Knows when you're lying better than we do. Now open your mouth."
She shook her head, pressed her lips together.
He grabbed a fistful of her wet hair, yanked her head back. His cock was already hard, jutting toward her face. "I said open."
She kept her jaw clamped shut, her teeth grinding. He traced the tip of his cock along her lips, smearing pre-cum across them. "You can either open willingly, or I make you. But one way leaves you with a split lip."
She stared at him. Her eyes burned, but there were no flames. Only the cold, hollow truth of her helplessness.
Her lips parted.
"There she is." He pushed inside. His cock slid past her teeth, heavy and salty, filling her mouth before she could adjust. She gagged immediately, her throat trying to reject him, tears springing to her eyes.
"Oh, that's the spot," he breathed. "Look at that. Princess of the Fire Nation, on her knees, choking on my cock." He began to thrust, shallow at first, then deeper. Each push hit the back of her throat, made her eyes water more.
She tried to pull back. His hand tightened in her hair, holding her in place. "Take it. All of it." He pushed deeper, and she felt herself gagging, drool spilling down her chin, mixing with the tears that finally started to fall.
Korruk's hands spread her legs wider. She felt his cock press against her entrance from behind, wetting itself with her own slick. "You're going to take us both at once," he said, the first full sentence she'd heard from him. "Mouth and cunt. And you're going to stay still until we're done."
She whimpered around Taro's cock, a sound that meant nothing, a plea that no one would answer. Korruk pushed into her, and she felt herself stretch around him, full and violated, the double invasion making her whole body clench. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and useless.
Taro set a rhythm. He fucked her mouth in long, deep strokes, his hips slapping against her face. Each time he withdrew, she sucked in air through her nose, and each time he thrust, she gagged. "Cry," he said. "Let it out. I want to feel your throat convulse around me."
Korruk moved behind her, steady and relentless. His hands gripped her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. She was a thing between them, a hole to use, a body to fill. Mira watched from the corner, arms crossed, her gray eyes tracking every sob that wracked Azula's frame.
The pressure built in Azula's chest—not arousal, but the weight of everything she was losing. She was crying openly now, gasping between thrusts, the sobs muffled by the cock in her throat. She was a princess. She was Azula. And she was on her knees in a steam-wet cell, being used by two men while a woman catalogued her breaking.
Taro groaned. His hips stuttered, and she felt his cock pulse against her tongue, hot and bitter. He held her head, forcing her to take it, keeping her mouth sealed around him until he was done. Then he pulled out, and she coughed, gagged, cum spilling from her lips onto the stone floor.
Korruk didn't stop. He kept fucking her from behind, his pace quickening. She braced her hands against the wall, her body trembling, snot and tears and drool running down her face. "Please," she whispered, the word escaping before she could stop it. "Please…"
"Don't beg," Korruk grunted. "You'll come first. Then I'll stop."
She shook her head, sobbing. But her body didn't listen. His cock hit something inside her, and her knees buckled, and she felt the unwelcome heat building, the shame of her own nerve endings betraying her. "No, no, no," she chanted, but the orgasm crested anyway, tearing a broken cry from her throat as her cunt clenched around him.
He came inside her, grunting, his fingers digging bruises into her hips. Then he pulled out, and she felt his cum drip down her thigh, mixing with the water still cooling on her skin.
She collapsed. Her knees hit the stone, and she curled forward, her forehead pressed to the wet floor, her whole body shaking with sobs.
Taro crouched beside her. "Not broken yet. But we've got days, princess. Plenty of days." He patted her head like she was a dog, then stood.
Their footsteps receded. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.
Azula lay in the puddle of water and cum and tears, and for a long moment, she didn't move. But slowly, her hand reached out. She touched the cuff of the coarse cotton dress, still waiting on the shelf. She dragged it down. Pulled it against her chest. And she held it like a shield, her crying quieting to something smaller, harder.