A/N:

An entry for Sokkla Appreciation Day, December 10th, 2016.

Hope you all enjoy it as much I had writing it!

- Would You Kindly -

The dim glare of the rotating candles caught in the boy's eyes like the lake at dusk catching the setting before nightfall. Glossy, distant, his breathing was faint, wheezing from exhaustion.

If he wasn't there now, then he was close to the breaking point.

Good.

The less he struggled the better. Smiling Tiger wasted too much time on the tribal anyway.

The candles whirled slowly by on the metal track as the agent pulled back gently on a nearby lever. The boy's face faded in and out of the light, his jaw slack, slouched back in his chair with the rock bindings clinging tightly over his wrists, arms, and ankles. His eyes were forced open by rock gloves clinging to his face, pulling at the frail edges.

Looks like a caged mad dog. Fighters always are. Other boy before him had that same look. Guerrilla, same age, hooked swords. Didn't last long. They never do.

The aches in his legs and back were becoming acutely irritable. The tribal's conditioning proved more difficult than he originally thought. He fought the urge to groan or change his tone of voice. He was close to the critical moment. Any change would ruin the progress he made. He just wished that it would come sooner than later.

Tired of looking at this snow savage. What is the world's fascination with them anyway?

The boy was a fucking mess. His hair was undone, his dark green prison uniform creased, and he smelled like a tepid marsh in summer brimming with mosquitos. The stuffy air in the dim chamber made the whole process nearly unbearable for Smiling Tiger, but he would endure.

In his state, the agent failed to understand his new leader's interest in the boy. He was a tribal, a loser captured and left behind by his companions after the coup. For all he cared he was a cyst waiting to be cauterized from the great city of Ba Sing Se.

He would've spit at him if it made him look worse than how he was now.

No. Would just add to the smell. Haven't brushed in a day. Been down here all night. Fucking skimo. Should have broken sooner. Better to put him down? No, orders still stand.

Orders.

That was right. She wanted him alive.

Peculiar as her fascination was, the orders handed to him for the boy's conditioning implied something… highly irregular. And very personal.

She was intentionally vague on some of the details, but he understood well enough what she implied as an outcome, dedicating a scroll worth of instructions and stamped with the royal seal of the Fire Nation.

Clearly, she had talked to someone within the organization about the conditioning process, likely a Joo Dee instructor. Every word she wrote implied full confidence in success. If he failed in his task there was, of course, the threat of execution to anyone within the organization who knew about her little experiment.

Smiling Tiger fought the urge to sigh and remained as stoic as a rock within the metal ring that surrounded him.

The spoils of war. Take the land and make the defeated slaves. Proclivities of young lonely conquerors. Hmph. Nothing new under the sun, I suppose. No suitors back home?

He pushed the thought aside. It was not his business to comprehend the implications of the princess' orders. Her word, like Long Feng before her, was law. Holy scripture. Never to be questioned. Always to be heeded.

And, if he was honest with himself, Smiling Tiger did appreciate the change of pace and the dubious honor of performing such a task. There was a reason why she had chosen him. He was the most efficient instructor within the Dai Li's ranks for a reason.

A groan from the boy across from him as he stirred in his seat, pulling at the rock bindings clamped over his wrists, his eyes watery from the constant strain of rotating light battering his pupils.

Folding his arms in front of him and tucking his hands into his long black sleeves, Smiling Tiger's fingers tightened into a fist. He willed the rock bindings clinging to the boy to tighten, stopping him from squirming.

The tribal still had some spirit left in him. He could see it flicker faintly in those blue eyes of his, one final stand before the fall.

Futile. It always was.

With a slight grin, Smiling Tiger reached out beside him and pushed the lever forward as gears grinded into place, increasing the speed of the rotating lamps. They were a blur of light in the dark and it put the boy on edge. He squirmed in his seat, trying to shut his eyes.

Tough kid, but everyone's got a breaking point. And I'm going to snap him in half.

One by one the lamps passed in front of the Water Tribe boy and he reeled from them, as if his skin was burning from the light. He cried out, a piercing howl that bounced off the cold walls of the little chamber they occupied.

Smiling Tiger caught a glimpse of each of his expressions as they passed – fear, anger, desperation, each one flashing by in quick succession. Horrid faces of a young man caught in a death struggle, losing who he was.

"Let me go! Please! Stop!"

And there it was. The tears flowed openly from the boy's red glossy eyes. The agent smiled, bearing is crooked, fang-like teeth. He was ready.

The lamps passed rapidly in front of him, Smiling Tiger's gaze unwavering. His voice was calm and authoritative.

"Yearning."

Again the lamps continued to pass between them, the boy unable to tear his gaze away from the lights. Saliva oozed from the corners of his mouth as he struggled in his seat, groaning as the rock gloves tore up his skin.

"Lock."

Smiling Tiger's voice bounded through room over the boy's pained cries, as calm and collected as he could be. The boy continued to squirm, eyes darting from corner to corner, desperately searching for an escape.

"Four."

He tried to lung out of the stone chair as he growled savagely, chest heaving and muscles straining against the bindings. Smiling Tiger merely had to clench his first tighter to hold him in place with his bending.

"Amputate."

The word cut through the stale, stuffy air of the chamber. Slowly the Water Tribe boy slouched back in his seat, his body going limp, gasping for air as his chest heaved, succumbing to the futility of his struggle.

"Dawn… Administer…"

His breathing calmed as he sat up in his seat. He didn't struggle this time, his body relaxed as he made himself comfortable in the chair. As the lamps once again passed in front of the boy, Smiling Tiger noted that he made no effort to close or avert his eyes. He merely followed the rotation of the lamps, a fly drawn to the fire.

"Dragon."

An unexpected look of relief seemed to wash over the boy. It caught Smiling Tiger somewhat off guard as his subject calmly breathed in through his nose and exhaled out through his mouth. He repeated it, his gaze fixed on the lamps.

"One."

Slowly, the boy's gaze drifted away from the lamps again, staring blankly ahead as if looking on into a great distance, devoid of emotion.

Smiling Tiger allowed himself to grin victoriously. The tribal had finally succumbed. It was an admirable display of resistance he supposed, but it ended all the same to him. It always did.

Now the real work can begin.

He loosened his fist beneath his long green sleeves and the rock gloves that held the boy's eyes open slowly inches away, gliding roughly over his sweaty forward to grasp his hair. Tears flowed from his eyes as he blinked uncontrollably, the light and pain still irritating him, yet Smiling Tiger knew he was broken.

Time to build him back up.

For a moment he considered calling the boy by his real name. Some tribal garble he had no real interest in memorizing. It had only occurred to him because the Princess had bothered to state it in her orders.

He pondered for a moment as the dim lamps continued their brisk trek along the metal ring. It was only for a moment of course.

Meeting the boy's distant gaze as he sat strapped to his chair, Smiling Tiger addressed him imperiously, an owner to his slave.

"Good evening… Jian Doo."

The boy started at his voice, a slight raze in his eyelids, the spark of life returning to him.

Activated.

Smiling Tiger gave a slight, approving nod. The conditioning could go smoothly with the boy's compliance. They were so much easier to handle in this state, so much more docile.

With a sigh of relief and a jolt of pride in his handiwork, Smiling Tiger grasped the lever beside him and gently pulled back, slowly the rotating lamps as the gears grinded into place.

Then, he recalled the phrase he was commanded to use.

"Would you kindly… listen to me for a moment?"

A brief pause. The boy's body stiffened at the words, his face twisting slightly in confusion at the command. Smiling Tiger's finger grinded against each other behind his sleeves.

Then, the boy's eyes widened and began to dilate. He spoke, looking up at him with an unusual calmness to his voice.

"Of course."

Smiling Tiger blinked. Then he smiled, his rotten teeth showing behind his dry lips.

Standing by. Awaiting directives. Very good.

He chuckled lightly at his own success. "I'd just like you to repeat a few phrases for me, Jian Doo. It's going to take some time to memorize and we'll be going over quite a bit, but I believe you're a bright young man. You're going to make someone, well, very happy if you listen closely to what I have to say."

The boy attempted to nod, restrained by the rock bindings around his head. "I would not want to disappoint."

Smiling Tiger considered this. "No. No, I don't believe you would. Just follow the lamps as they pass by you, listen to what I say, and respond as I say them. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Very good, Jian Doo. Now then…" Smiling Tiger waited for the lamps to pass by before continuing, "When you hear 'would you kindly kiss me', respond by saying 'yes, your highness, I would gladly kiss you'."

]|||[

It had taken less time than she had anticipated. The agent stated it would take more than a month for the conditioning process to take full effect, behind the time of their departure to the Fire Nation.

Not that she was complaining now of course. Her patience and insistence finally paid off in the end. All that time waiting in Ba Sing Se had made her uncharacteristically anxious and Mai's unusually intimate displays of affection for Zuko had greatly annoyed her. The hallway, the galley, the upper deck of the royal barge, everywhere Azula found them she could always count on an arm being draped around a shoulder, a stifled giggle, an embrace in the dark just before the kiss.

Ugh. It was enough to make her sick. If she'd had known that they were remotely capable of such tenderness she would have found a more efficient way to get Zuko to take the long trip home with her and be welcomed like the false hero he was.

No matter. They were such trivial thoughts. Why stew over something as insignificant as her supposed friend's clumsy attempt at courtship when she had a boy of her own to play with?

And he was looking especially sexy tonight.

She took a measure of satisfaction in the fact that she had chosen the right agent for such a highly personal request. As ridiculous as his codename was the man was an experienced instructor, or so the Dai Li liked to call those trained in the art of brainwashing.

A promotion and an increase in his stipend was his reward and the man took it with an air of satisfied relief, his foul teeth showing between thin dry lips. Enough to make the stomach churn.

Her friends, of course, did not approve when they found out, but they only knew so much. All they saw at the dock as they boarded the royal barge was a boy shackled at the arms and neck, led by two Dai Li agents just behind her traitorous uncle. A prisoner awaiting his grim fate.

Ty Lee had asked why they were bringing him along. Azula, for her part, didn't feel the need to answer. Again she asked, this time as they settled in, Mai and Zuko close behind, as they stood in the hallway in front of her cabin. She merely shrugged, said something about interrogations and whatnot, and then kindly shut the door in their faces.

It was really none of their business. Why show concern for a Water Tribe boy who only a few weeks ago attempted to thwart their plans for ultimate victory in Ba Sing Se?

Hm. Then again, the same question could be asked of her – why show interest in a boy she should call her enemy, who, with one throw of his foolish little weapon, nearly dashed her chances of a swift and bloodless coup?

Well, perhaps it wasn't entirely bloodless. Long Feng and a few of his loyal Dai Li were sprawled on the floor of the throne room when the dust and smoke had cleared, his face seared to a blackened crisp. And there was the tribal amid it all, slumped against a jade pillar, face bloodied, fading in and out of consciousness, his friends all but abandoning him in the chaos that followed.

No. This sick fascination with him ran deeper, before the coup, out on the plains of the southern Earth Kingdom, high in the mountains where Omashu was nestled, among the sweltering sands of the Si Wong.

From her perspective, looking down at him through a red haze, high off the pleasure that sent her heart on a heated frenzy, the interest in him was quite obvious.

Her thumb brushed against his sweaty forehead as her fingers clawed through the loose strands of his dark hair, relishing the feel of it balled in her fist. His tantalizingly warms lips made a wet smack as he gorged on her clit, his tongue prodding and lapping up her juices as Azula straddled his head, her smooth thighs squeezing hard.

"Oh, fuck," she breathed, leaning her head back, half-lidded eyes staring up at the metal ceiling of her cabin.

He opened his mouth wider and took in her soaking pink bead, alternating between running his tongue against it from side to side and sucking it. Azula's breath hitched, pulse rising, her heart beating in her ears. She had to bring her forearm up to her mouth, lightly biting down on the skin just to stifle a loud moan.

She was so wet, so aroused, relishing the exhilarating feel of his warm, dexterous tongue licking her sweet pussy, working relentlessly just to make her cum.

Bliss in its most raw form. So, this was what victory really felt like - her enemy below her, completely at her control, totally compliant, and irresistibly hard just from the taste of her own arousal.

And all she had to say were three kind little words. So simple.

Not now. Not yet. Oh! Oh, fuck, just enjoy it!

Azula grinded her pelvis instinctively against his face, helplessly lost in her own passion as he began to suck her sweet little pink pearl, twirling and twisting his hot tongue against it with increasing amounts of pressure. She was breathing through her nose, the heat rising through her body as her hips bucked sporadically, her jaw tensing up at the hot pleasure coursing uncontrollably through her veins.

Fuck, she was so sensitive! His hot hands reached up and roamed her body, fingers pressing against her pubic bone all the way up her toned stomach, one hand taking her breast and firmly pinching a pert pink nipple. It made the little hairs stand on edge, a tantalizing shiver shooting through her pine and down to her core.

How? Did they instill this into his mind from the conditioning? How did that agent-Oh! Oh, fuck it.

Through her half-lidded lustful eyes she looked down at him, face soaking wet with own juice, his nose bobbing up and down just above her pubic bone as he continued to eat her out, tongue mercilessly flicking at her clit. An image of a black shore at dusk under a red sun inexplicably flashed across her heated mind, the tide coming and going, his tongue quickening and slowing, her pussy sopping wet, making her moan through her teeth.

"Ah! Oh, fuck yes!" she gasped.

She was so close now, so unbearably close. She wanted this, needed this! He was her servant, her unquestioning slave, but he was in control of this moment, holding her over the edge, begging him through her incessant moaning to just push her and let her enjoy the fall.

Make me cum, Make me cum, make me-

He took her sweet bead into his mouth again and sucked, lips smacking against her wet folds. A gasp caught in her throat as she pinched her eyes shut, desperate to breath.

And then she snapped. Gave in. Couldn't take it anymore. Lost control in a hot, climactic explosion, head thrown back as her hips shook uncontrollably, her mind a disheveled blur as she rode out every euphoric wave that washed over her.

Panting, her breath labored, Azula slumped forward a bit, the vise like grip on her tribal slave's hair slackening. She looked down to see him dutifully laying soft kisses against her clit, gently lapping up the juices as his tender warm hands glided down to her hips, making them shudder pleasantly.

Something odd struck her in that moment, with his eyes firmly closed and his face covered in her own juices, still diligently doing what had been imprinted into his mind.

Some of his hair and a little of her own got in his eyes and caked his forehead. Azula tenderly brushed the loose strands away with a thumb, her eyes locked on him as she gently parted her pelvis away from his mouth, lifting her leg over and away to sit at his side.

Her fingers then combed through and slicked back his hair as she leaned over him, her hand gliding up his warm chest, long nails pressing into his skin. His time in the facility under Lake Laogai had not taken too much of a toll on his body. Only a few scratches here and there.

He gasped, as if coming up for air, completely out of breath as he tried to clear his throat, turning his head to the side to spit on the sheets. Azula leaned her head down, closed her eyes, and placed a heated kiss against his chest, moaning into his skin, basking in his scent.

She could kiss him like this all night.

What are you doing? You are his master now. This is what is expected of him, what was instilled in him. Your gratitude is irrelevant. Just stop this and fuck him.

A reluctant sigh as her nose brushed against his nipple, kissing it. Of course he would act this way. He was her personal drone. His mind was configured to please her. They had… re-tooled him. Broke him down and fixed him back up. Like an engine. A machine. Could he still process emotions? Could he still… feel like she did?

Feelings. Emotions. Her? Hmph. Ridiculous. So, so, fucking ridiculous.

It didn't matter anyway. What was love to her anyway but a disappointment? It was useless. All that mattered, all she really wanted, as her gaze drifted down her slave's enticingly firm body, was to have his manhood deep inside her.

And it looked so deliciously ready for her.

Azula smirked, climbing atop to straddle his waist, his cock gliding against sopping wet pussy, teasingly grinding her pelvis against him. Her hands roamed his chest, feeling how impressively firm he was, every muscle fit and tight.

Spirits, I can fuck him all night. What a magnificent prize. After taking Ba Sing Se and killing the avatar, I deserve this.

She looked down at him as he lay on his back against the cot, savoring the helpless look of fatigue on his face.

She licked her bruised red lips and smirked. "You are… not a disappointment, Jian Doo."

She had thought about using his real name for a moment. It would do him no good. The name Sokka was all but obscure to him now, or so the agent had said.

He stirred at the name, exhausted eyes flickering to life, raising his head up to look at her.

And that's when she saw his eyes. They were different. Milky, faded, pupils dilated, the spark of life all but snuffed out. A docile, compliant shell, totally under her control.

His voice was all to calm. "Thank you, your highness."

An imperious look as Azula reached out her hand and hooked a finger under his bone necklace, pulling him up closer as she continued to straddle his waist. She had always thought it looked like a collar.

"Hm. I am not finished with you yet. The night is young and though you may not have disappointed me, you have not satisfied me. Understand?"

He nodded slowly. "I have not fulfilled my duty to do."

"No. No, you haven't. You have much do to before I am satisfied."

With a small fiendish smirk, her finger trailing the inside of his bone necklace as she pulled him close, Azula whispered into his ear. "So, would you kindly pin me to the cot and just fuck me?"

As Azula pulled her head back, she caught a glimpse of his eyes widening at the command before his pupils dilated a second time, that soulless, blank expression returning to him.

"Yes, your highness, I would gladly fuck you."

A/N:

This was an entry for Sokkla Appreciation Day. If you'd like to read more entries for this special day, please read "Prisoner's Dilemma" and "Shadow" by Purpleplatypusbear21 and Clarielparke, respectively. If you're looking for something along the lines of Seyary Minamoto's story "Gladiator", please read her one-shot extra "A Cherry Adventure" over on her Tumblr account.

Side note - if you felt this one-shot was too short or too long, please me know in the review section.

Again, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!