Marly's Angels

Zexion is keeping a secret. Unfortunately, Marluxia and Larxene are aware of it--and use it to manipulate Zexion to serve their own ends.

Rating: M

Pairings: Marluxion, Marxene, LarxZex, AkuZeku, Xehanort/Ienzo

Warnings: Gender bending, abuse, discipline/spanking, explicit scenes, master/slave relationships, straight!Marluxia, menages a troi, length, het, femslash, oodles of sexism. Seriously, if you're easily offended, do not under any circumstances read this.

Rrrgh. Okay. I debated forever about whether I should post this or not. This is easily the most puerile thing I've ever written, and is quite different from the vast majority of my works as well. I don't want to cause any kerfluffles or extremely adverse reactions, so that's why I held off posting this even though I've had it written for some time already. If it does end up causing a stir, I'll happily take it down. Still, I figured, trying won't hurt. And anyway, I'm stuck on the seventh chapter of Through a Mirror, Darkly, and I feel bad about leaving my wonderful reviewers waiting, so I figured I should give you something to tide you over. Even if this is sickening and disgusting and not for the weak of stomach.

This story is labeled as a chapter fic because I planned for it to be one, but I'm not as invested in this as I am in some of my other projects, so I may not continue. It depends on how I feel about it, and as always, reader reaction. The chapters I've planned to title after lyrics from songs; this chapter's song is Muse's amazing "Showbiz."

I am giving you one last chance to turn back. This shit is not tame in the slightest.

1. Forcing Our Darkest Souls To Unfold

Forcing our darkest souls to unfold

Forcing our darkest souls to unfold

And pushing us into self destruction

And pushing us into self destruction

Control.

If there was one thing that Marluxia absolutely had to have, it was that exactly. Absolute control over everything that he was capable of controlling--and even a few things he wasn't. Larxene could forgive him for that, though. After all, he'd been a prince in his past life. Prince of a minor kingdom, yes, but he'd been spoiled throughout his childhood, given everything he wanted: the best toys, luxury fabrics, rich food, tournaments held in his honor. Most spoiled children grew up to be soft and weak adults, but not Marluxia; his childhood avarice had become sharpened into something altogether more dangerous and purposeful. He grew power hungry. Lustful. And he desired so, so much.

Larxene knew all this even though she herself had not known Marluxia back when he had been a complete being. But he had told her everything, in soft whispers as they lay curled up next to each other in the nights, as he ran his hands down her back and left trails of shivers in their wake. He told her everything because he trusted her, absolutely.

The thought was enough to always make her smile. She knew then that Marluxia wanted no one in all the worlds more than her, and she was the only one who could really give him what he wanted, what he needed. A sense of...completion.

And control, as well.

Larxene didn't mind his control. She occasionally played at protesting, sometimes, especially when he squeezed or threw her too roughly, but it was all for show. Marluxia would never hurt her, or at least hurt her more than she could handle. And hey, a few bruises and humilation were just the price she had to pay for being his most trusted companion. His right-hand woman, basically. Ever since he'd first presented the idea of betraying the Organization to her, why, he'd made certain to include her in every single plot. She looked forward to the plotting sessions the most, when the two of them put their heads together and in hushed and excited tones detailed all the punishments they would put the most insufferable Organization members through once they were in charge. They had come up with about a thousand creative ways to bring Vexen down to size.

All of this Larxene tried to explain to Zexion. It wasn't her fault if the sixth member of the Organization didn't understand and kept on insisting on calling her a traitor. Well, maybe she could explain things a little better, and strictly speaking she was not supposed to talk about their plans with the Cloaked Schemer. But hey, Larxene figured she could have a little fun with that brat. Silly little brat who'd been caught sneaking. It was always fun to watch the kid's face grow pale and then red with indignity every time Larxene went on, in grisly detail, about how she and Marluxia would subdue the other Organization members once they seized control.

And best of all, the silly brat couldn't do anything about it. Zexion had come sneaking into Larxene and Marluxia's chambers for the purpose of finding some dirt with which to discredit them, but oh how the two neophytes had turned the tables on their supposed superior. Starting with that wonderfully serendipitous discovery that they weren't the only ones with things to hide.

"Zexion!" shouted Marluxia from the bathroom, his voice echoing through the hall. "Come! I need you!"

Because Marluxia was the Lord of Castle Oblivion, he had been given the best chambers. In fact, the entire top floor of the castle, which he had quickly refurbished more to his liking. Plain white was classy, yes, but rather boring and not fit for a prince and a lord. Now flowers snaked across the walls and many of the rooms had been converted into little pleasure gardens (where, indeed, a fair share of "pleasure" did take place). Each room had been painstakingly given its own decorative scheme--there were white-painted feathery wonderlands, sleek and square-shaped modern rooms, dark Victorian rooms furnished with heavy bookcases and velvet curtains, lushly carpeted harems, black-and-red splattered rooms decorated with skulls and bones. There was a room to match every one of Marluxia's many mercurial moods. About half of them he had yet to use, but he was in no hurry to since the entire floor was kept in immaculate condition by Dusks day in and day out.

To get from one side of the floor--which Larxene had taken to calling the "Penthouse"--to another, one had to cross a central living room which the residents informally knew as "the Lobby." It alone kept Castle Oblivion's stark white theme, though the walls were overgrown with climbing rose vines and a little waterfall tinkled to the side (once there had been fish in the pond, but Larxene had quickly killed them all). Larxene was currently curled up on a couch in the Lobby, cradling her favorite book in the crook of her arm, and humming cheerily to herself.

She wasn't dressed in the Organization coat, but that wasn't anything new; Marluxia mandated that both she and Zexion dress the way he wanted to see them so long as they were in the Penthouse. Larxene didn't mind. Anything for Marly, after all! This was one of the more tolerable costumes, anyhow--just a short-skirted fetish maid uniform in delicate white and pastel blue gingham, with a ruffled heart-shaped satin apron, thigh-high white stockings, and pale blue high heels. She was even wearing a matching bow in her hair. The innocent maid look, how silly. Especially considering what kind of person Larxene really was. Still, if it made Marluxia happy, she'd do it.

The door to the Lobby clicked open. Larxene yawned.

"Hurry it up. Marly's going to get an aneurysm if you take any longer."

"Good," Zexion said, her voice taut with ill-concealed fury. "The world will be missing nothing if that happens."

Yes, her.

This was the most delicious secret Larxene and Marluxia had uncovered in their time in the Organization, and that was saying a lot. Neither thought they would be able to upstage their discovery that Xaldin and Lexaeus secretly ran a home-brewing business, but lo and bejoy, they had. It had started simply enough--Zexion had come sneaking around the Penthouse one day, apparently searching for anything with which to implicate the two of them as traitors. Marluxia and Larxene had quickly defeated the little brat, which wasn't hard. They both knew what Zexion was like, the little midget of a kid who strangely held a favored position with the Superior and didn't do much except sneak around and read big books. He reminded Larxene very much of the nerds she used to beat up in high school, only on a much more pathetic level. She had the sad feeling that he was constantly seeking to get some, but he had no idea how to begin. Just like those creepy virgin nerds back in high school, who were always whining about how real girls weren't enough like the hot elven maids they fantasized about.

Well. Larxene had thought all of that until she and Marluxia discovered that Zexion wasn't a "he" at all.

Zexion secretly being a girl--and no one but the Superior knowing--turned out to be the best thing to have happened to Marluxia recently. Not only did he now have the means with which to blackmail a potential enemy, he now...well. Prince Lumaria had kept a harem of over a hundred beautiful young girls.

Marluxia considered two good enough of a start.

Was Larxene jealous? Not at all! Zexion could never give Marluxia what she could, after all. There was nothing genuine behind the things that Marluxia did to Zexion--he did it mostly to assert his dominance and control over her, to prevent her from running off and tattling to the Superior. But the things he did to Larxene...they were born from something genuine. Not love, of course. But definitely more genuine than blackmail.

Besides, it wasn't as if Larxene viewed Zexion as a threat to her femininity, anyways. For cripes' sake, the girl pretended to be a nerdy boy most of the time.

Marluxia, being very good at doing what he did, recognized that Zexion derived much of her smarmy self-confidence from her faked masculinity. So, it struck him as natural to keep her ego in check by forcibly reminding her of her true sex every opportunity he could get.

Which was why Zexion was currently dressed in a maid uniform that was the perfect analogue of Larxene's, just as tight-fitting and fetishistic, with a bodice that laced up like a corset and a skirt that barely covered her rear end. Her uniform was black, though, trimmed in red and with a red apron and sheer mesh stockings, and her badly-cut emo comb-over had been tied back with a skull hairpin. The devil to Larxene's angel. She was glaring at Larxene as if she hoped the force of her glare would burn a hole straight through Larxene's face.

"Wow, you're more bitchy than usual today, Zexy," Larxene said lazily. "What's the matter, girlfriend? You can tell me."

"Silence, neophyte," Zexion said coldly, striding forward, her heels clacking against the floor. "One of these days, you will learn not to treat a superior member of the Organization in such a cavalier fashion."

"Geez, bite my head off, will you? I was just trying to be friendly."

"I don't need your friendliness, XII. Where is your disgusting compatriot?"

Marluxia just then made his presence known with another, more exasperated bellow. "Zexion! What's taking you so long?"

"Ooh, he sounds pissed," Larxene said with savage delight. "If you don't hurry he might break out the belt on you again. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Zexy?"

Zexion didn't say anything in response to this, though she did throw Larxene a very foul glare. Larxene had been on the receiving end of many of the Schemer's glares before, even back when Zexion had just been "nerdy Dungeons and Dragons boy" to her, so she wasn't bothered at all.

Looking at Zexion now, it was hard to believe Larxene had ever mistaken her for a him. Zexion actually happened to be somewhat curvier in build than her; for a short while Marluxia had enjoyed forcing Zexion into Larxene's clothes just to delight in how tight the shirts and bodices were around her chest. At first, Larxene had to admit feeling even a little jealous--how fair was it that a crossdresser had bigger boobs than she did? It brought back unpleasant memories of high school, how the other girls would tease her for being so flat-chested and underdeveloped compared to them.

Her jealousy was silly and unfounded, of course. First of all, this was what Marluxia would call "false equivalence"--those sluts in high school went around shoving their sexuality into everyone's face, interested or not, but Zexion seemed utterly mortified by her body and in those early days had gone to great lengths to try to underplay her curves (she had been very fond of crossing her arms, Larxene remembered). And besides, Larxene should have had more faith in Marluxia. He wasn't just a T & A kind of guy. He'd always hold Larxene highest in regard, because she was his friend and comrade-in-arms and Zexion was just a slave. A toy to be used.

"Zex-i-onnn!" Marluxia roared again. Larxene winced. Ooh, boy. A Marluxia that angry was never pleasant.

"If I were you..." Larxene began in a sing-song tone.

"Go to hell, XII," Zexion snarled before storming off. Right before she disappeared through the doorway, though, she paused and very maturely flipped Larxene the bird.

Laughing maniacally, Larxene returned the gesture in kind.

Oh, that silly little bitch. She could spew hatred and fury upon Larxene and Marluxia all she wanted, but that never stopped her from obeying his orders anyhow.

"You're late," Marluxia snapped.

"Is that so?" Zexion said. "Strictly speaking, I am not. As far as I remember, you never set a strict timetable for my arrival, so therefore you can't technically say that I am late."

It was foolish to defy him for long, but she still derived an immature satisfaction from resisting him with the only weapon she could still cling on to--words. Even after about four months of this vexing humiliation, she could still, much to her satisfaction, talk circles around him.

Not that Marluxia ever let the talking proceed that long. As if on cue, all of the old aches and bruises, and quite a few of the new ones, chose that moment to throb uncomfortably.

"You are late because I have decided that you are late. Do you understand, dear Zexion? Your opinion doesn't matter. I am the lord and master of this realm, and you are nothing but my loyal subject. Everything I say, you will accept as the absolute truth."

Marluxia was lounging carelessly in a bathtub in one of the Penthouse's many bathrooms. This was one of the more luxurious ones, tiled in marble and trimmed with gold throughout. The tub was large enough to hold two Lexaeuses, so it was rather overkill for Marluxia to be bathing in it, especially since most of his body wasn't even in the frothy rose-scented water. He was lounging against the edge of the tub with his arm hanging over the side and most of his muscular torso exposed, smiling with languid self-assurance as Zexion entered the bathroom.

Oh, it stank. It stank like the rest of this horrible place, only much worse because the water was scented as well and Marluxia exuded an especially concentrated odor. It was all Zexion could do to keep herself from scrunching up her nose in visible disgust.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"First, you will show me the proper obeisance. Kneel."

"I can see you just fine from where I am."

"I am aware of that. On your knees, woman."

Zexion really didn't want to make skin contact with the marble floor--she knew from experience that it would probably be freezing to the touch. Her strategic mind was already running over the costs and benefits of obeying or disobeying. Well, she was certain Marluxia couldn't do much to her as of the moment, since he would have to go through the cumbersome motions of getting out of the bathtub if he wanted to physically force her to obey. But later...he was certain to make her pay in the nighttime, and that would be most unpleasant. Every night was already painful and humiliating enough as it was.

Not bothering to mask a frustrated sigh (just to give Marluxia the clear impression that she was not doing this willingly), she sank to her knees on the floor in front of the tub. The shock of the cold jittered her nerves violently, but she ground her back teeth together hard, determined not to let any weakness show.

"Good girl. You're finally learning your place," Marluxia said, eyeing her with some disgust.

"And why did you want me again?" Zexion snapped.

"Don't take that tone with me."

"I will take whatever tone I like, neophyte."

Marluxia's expression darkened and Zexion felt a sudden sharp stab of fear in her stomach--not fear as in the emotion, but a more visceral instinct. Prey cornered by a predator. It had felt good saying those words, of course, but that one little bubble of triumph was not worth the price.

Marluxia did not speak for the longest time. Zexion was starting to wonder if he'd forgotten she was there, especially since he wasn't even looking at her--he kept his gaze turned to the ceiling, staring at something she couldn't see. Her knees were beginning to ache from prolonged contact with the floor, and her stomach was twisting in on itself. This feeling of dreading anticipation was far too familiar, sadly--it reminded her of all the times when he had made her kneel before a punishment.

"Silly little girl," Marluxia said at length, his voice soft and dangerous; an involuntary shudder ran down Zexion's spine. "Even after I go through all this length to teach you the proper way a young woman should behave, you insist on behaving in this spiteful, childish, and frankly idiotic manner. I have tried to train you as best I could, given the limitations of your sex, but it seems I have not done well enough of a job."

"Y-you never will, I promise you," Zexion hissed, indignity speaking for her even while the fear grew and grew. 'I am the Cloaked Schemer, number VI in the Organization, I refuse to let you h-humiliate me like this--"

"It is the lot of every young woman to learn humility, Zexion. A faculty that has been sorely lacking in you in the past, wouldn't you agree?"

"Y-you bastard, you can't do this--the Superior will--"

"I," Marluxia said, standing up, "am your Superior here."

Even stark naked as he was and half-covered with a foam of pink bubbles--he was frightening. Zexion didn't want to admit it, never did. A neophyte like him would never scare her, senior member of the Organization--but that was all intellectual. Faced with him as he was now, a towering image of wrath, she couldn't help but give way to the fear bubbling in her insides. He was stronger than her, much as she wanted to deny it.

He held all the power in this situation. Had always held the power. That, above all, rankled her--and terrified her.

"M-Marluxia--"

"Superior."

Squeezing her eyes shut, swallowing her pride and something else that felt like vomit, Zexion whispered, "S-Superior."

"Good girl. You're learning." Marluxia stepped out of the tub and approached her, step by wet step ringing against the marble. Zexion stiffened her shoulders and stared as hard as she could at the floor, not wanting to see the expression on his face. His voice was gentle enough, but she was certain the rage would still be there--if not intensified--if she looked back up.

"P-please, Marl--Superior--"

"It isn't your fault, really, Zexion," Marluxia said, his tone oddly gentle. But whenever he was gentle...oh, he was a thousand times worse than when he was outrightly cruel. "I don't blame you. A young woman who's lived most of her life as a man would naturally start thinking that she is above her true station. I'm a merciful man, Zexion. You may laugh, but believe me. I merely wish to help you. To remind you of your proper place. I think we can all agree that life would be so much easier and happier for all of us if you only learned to stay in your place."

His hands, shockingly cold and wet, were touching the sides of her face. Zexion forced herself to open her eyes and meet his. He was smiling, a warm smile with a touch of humor, but it didn't extend to his eyes. They were cold, cold and lifeless as ever...

"I've been doing some thinking lately, my dear. And I believe that most of your problems come from that incurable pride of yours. I asked myself then, where does that sort of pride come from? Women are by nature sweet and humble creatures, wouldn't you agree? Such as my wonderful Larxene."

Zexion couldn't suppress her derisive snort in time. Marluxia tightened his grip, ever-so-slightly, but enough to be a warning to her.

"And what do you find so amusing about that?"

Zexion would dearly loved to point out, with the most appropriate level of snark, how Larxene was anything but "sweet" and "humble." Thankfully her fear kept her check.

"N-nothing, Lord Marluxia. I--I am sorry."

Marluxia gently pressed his lips to her forehead, in a surprisingly tender gesture. It was over as soon as it'd lasted, and all for the better. "You're very sweet when you can be, Zexion. That leads me to believe that there really is a woman in you. You see, my dear, I think that you've spent much too long pretending to be a man. It's made you haughty and rude and so very, very smarmy. When I thought you were a boy, do you know how often I fantasized about bringing your attitude down to size? And now that I know who you truly are, why, it's even more unacceptable. But understandable. You've been indulged your entire life, for being a boy with an above-average intellect. Well, I will have you know two things, Zexion: first of all, I really couldn't care less how intelligent you are. And second: you are a not a boy, and you have no right to behave with the pride of one."

"Lord Marluxia--"

"But of course, talking to you won't make you understand," Marluxia said with a melodramatic sigh. "Zexion, please understand me when I say I only wish to help you. Beneath that raging attitude problem I do believe I see a chance for you to be a fine representative of your sex. You're a beautiful woman, and you have your sweet and gentle moments." He had moved one hand to Zexion's waist, and delivered it an uncomfortable squeeze; Zexion gritted her teeth. "You've been suppressed, and dare I say, badly mangled, by years of maintaining your masquerade, but there is still hope for you yet. Understand that this is why I am punishing you. Even if your mind rejects my words, your body won't."

Zexion couldn't help the shudder that ran down her spine at his words. No, not his words--his tone. That low and dangerous murmur, less a murmur than a silky purr. It was the tone he always used when threatening her and Larxene, and she was forced to admit that it worked.

"Zexion, you will finish what I originally called you here for--that is, get me dry and dressed--and then you will report to the Lobby, strip to your bra, panties, and stockings, and stand in the corner waiting for me to arrive like the good girl you are. Do you understand?"

Zexion made a noncommittal noise. Marluxia squeezed both her waist and her face, not painfully, but with significant pressure.

"Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Lord Marluxia."

"Superior."

"Yes...Superior."

It was the ultimate humiliation, bowing to him and having to call him "superior." No, you are not my Superior! Only he is-- Illogically, she found herself wishing for Xemnas to burst in through the door that instant and save her. It was the stupidest wish in the universe and one she forced herself to suppress. Maintain your logic. Your control. That is the only way you can get the better of him...

But we promised, Xehanort. Didn't we promise to always stay by each others' side? To always protect each other?

Idiocy. Zexion was not Ienzo and Xemnas was...ha. Most assuredly not Xehanort.

"Good girl," Marluxia said, a quiet, self-satisfied smile on his face. He patted her gently on the head, but the gentleness of the gesture made disgust rise in her stomach. He was only ever gentle when he was planning something diabolical. "Now, kindly help me out here. It's getting very cold..."

A little white back, Lexaeus had tried to teach Zexion to meditate. He hadn't been very successful in that effort--mostly because meditation involved clearing your mind of all thoughts and slipping into a blank reverie. Zexion had soon discovered that she was not very good at doing that. How could you ask a natural-born schemer to stop thinking, anyhow? She'd quickly grew bored and frustrated with trying to keep the slightest thought from crossing her mind. Lexaeus wasn't unobservant; after that session he'd never bothered trying to teach Zexion again.

She was beginning to regret the utter lack of effort she'd put into learning to meditate. Being able to mentally slip away from this situation was becoming a more and more appealing thought with every passing second. Granted--she didn't need mental discipline to space out. She was certain Vexen possessed quite a few drugs that would have the same effect. Now, to figure out a convenient pretense for asking him for them...

It would have been so much more bearable had Marluxia ordered her to wait in a private room. Anywhere other than the uncomfortably wide open Lobby--with Larxene watching.

Naturally, Larxene held true to her nature and had been keeping up a stream of steady taunts ever since Zexion had entered the Lobby, reluctantly stripped of her dress, and stood with her nose to the corner. Ignore it all, ignore it, she's just a bleating sheep...

"O ho ho ho ho!" Larxene laughed like a noblewoman, throwing her head back with her hand to the side of her face. "Poor widdle Zexy! How'd you mess up this time?"

Ignore her. That--neophyte--isn't worth listening to in the first place.

"I wonder what he's going to do you," Larxene continued, her tone infernally conversational. "I hope he lets me watch. Maybe he'll be extra nice and let me help!"

Zexion had grown very good at gritting her teeth; it certainly forestalled the urge to spit a curse at Larxene. She kept her gaze obstinately on the blank white wall, though it had to be the most boring sight in the world. Anything was better than looking at Larxene, though.

It was uncomfortably cold inside the Lobby, or perhaps her skin was merely prickling in dread. No shame, though. For some time she'd obstinately refused to strip in front of Marluxia or, worse, Larxene (why it was worse around Larxene was anyone's guess); it was already bad enough that he made her dress in fetish costumes most of the time, but exposing her body in public was pushing it too far. She was not an underwear model--she was Zexion, the Cloaked Schemer, a founding member of the Organization. To hell if she was going to indulge some idiotic neophyte's disgusting fantasies.

Needless to say that phase hadn't lasted for long.

Zexion was smart enough to understand the reasoning behind most of Marluxia's punishments, aside from the ones he gave out of pure spite. He did this to humiliate her, to forcibly put her femininity on display. Come to think of it, that was the entire point of most of what he did. Marluxia often told her that she had no reason to be ashamed of her body, since she was a beautiful woman by anyone's standards, but if anything that only intensified her shame.

There was a reason she kept her real sex a careful secret, and all this--these humiliating nights with Marluxia--were a major component of that reason.

You have nothing to be ashamed of, Ienzo, Xehanort had told her--no, Ienzo. Scientific precision, she had to hold on to that at least... You're living proof that a woman can be at least as capable as a man.

What nonsense. If she had really been a man, would she have gotten in this situation in the first place?

Larxene unleashed another ear-bleeding cackle. "Oh ho ho ho ho ho! Are you afraid, Zexy? Huh? Tell me!"

Zexion replied before she could stop herself. "No. As you are well aware, XII, we by definition cannot feel emotion."

Another laugh. Zexion had to resist the urge to summon her lexicon and start pummeling away at Larxene with it. In any event, if it boiled down to a physical fight, she'd lose. She knew full well that practically everyone else in Castle Oblivion, with the possible exception of Vexen, could easily trounce her in a one-on-one fight.

"You're so silly, Zexy--oh, hello, Marly!"

Zexion chanced a glance out of the corner of her eyes, and had to swallow the urge to vomit. Marluxia had entered the Lobby, bringing with him his perennial and nausea-inducing stench of roses. He was wearing nothing but a fluffy white bathrobe, which was sliding off one of his shoulders and exposing plenty of his tanned and toned chest--and dangling from his right hand was a thick leather belt.

Zexion did her best to suppress the tremor that rose inside her when she saw the hated implement. I'm not afraid. He can't do anything to me, the bastard...

You are so very good at lying to yourself, Ienzo, Xehanort's voice whispered in her ear.

The last thing Zexion would ever do was admit that her hallucination of Xehanort was quite right. She clenched her hands into fists and squeezed her eyes shut, cursing her own helplessness.

"Ahh, Larxene. It's good to see you," Marluxia said. "What are you doing here?"

"I dunno. Reading? And waiting for you."

"You liar. You were waiting for the opportunity to help me punish Zexion, weren't you?"

"We-ell..."

"Silly girl. Don't lie about what you want. I might have to punish you for that..."

"Oh, come on, Marly," Larxene whined.

Zexion dared to open her eyes slightly and glance at Marluxia and Larxene. The two of them thankfully didn't seem to be paying her much attention; Marluxia was busy ruffling Larxene's hair and smiling down at her, which Larxene returned with a sickly sweet ingratiating smile of her own. Seeing the two of them interact never failed to make Zexion's stomach seize. It bothered her how readily Larxene accepted whatever Marluxia threw at her--usually XII was quite strong-willed and didn't take smack from any other Organization member, as Axel tended to discover to his daily displeasure. But with Marluxia, all the attitude melted away into a sweet submissiveness that Zexion found more disturbing than she ought to.

And a disgusting symbol of what might eventually happen to her. It was clear that Marluxia had broken Larxene completely, turned her into a mere puppet and slave. As he intended to do with Zexion.

That just strengthened her resolve to never end up the way Marluxia wanted.

"Dear, dear Larxene..." Marluxia sighed, bending down to kiss Larxene on the top of her head. "Well, since you're being honest now, I'll let you watch. But not help--and keep the comments to a minimum, if you must make any noise at all. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Marly!" Larxene said with a mad giggle. "Give me a hell of a show!"

"For you, I'd do anything, my dear," Marluxia said. It took all of Zexion's effort to keep from gagging. Not only was he being incredibly sappy, but he was being dishonest as well.

"Now, Zexion." Shit. It was beginning. Zexion kept her back turned to him, mostly because she didn't want to see the look on his face, and she certainly didn't want to see that awful belt. "I do believe that we have an important matter to take care of...?"

Zexion didn't grace him with a reply. Marluxia closed the distance between them, step by heavy step, until his horrid rose stench was overwhelming her senses--she dearly wanted to either sneeze or gag, but was terrified of what he'd do to her if she did that. She was so busy trying to keep a clear head in the fog of his stench that it took her by surprise when he rested a heavy hand on her bare shoulder.

"Turn around, Zexion," Marluxia said, his tone silky and inviting no argument.

"Marluxia--"

"Turn around."

Zexion hated herself for obeying, but obstinately told herself this was the logical course of action. It was best to appease him so that the punishment wouldn't hurt a badly as it might. He gazed into her eyes, his face expressionless; he had set the belt down on the nearest couch, but his lack of a weapon did not reassure Zexion in the slightest. The punishment was coming whether she wanted it or not.

"Well, it seems you've been a good girl so far," he said. "You have been a good girl, haven't you? You haven't left the corner? Haven't been giving Larxene any lip?"

Zexion threw a brief glance at Larxene, who responded with a smirk--but she didn't say anything. Zexion did not want to admit how her insides coiled tightly in relief at the thought. She was afraid that Larxene might want to count her earlier comment as defiance, but it appeared that even number XII had her standards.

"No, sir," she said quietly to Marluxia.

"That's good," Marluxia said. "I take it I don't have any reason to doubt you..."

"No, sir."

A slight smile flitted across his face, and he reached down and hooked his index finger through the back strap of Zexion's lacy black bra, tugging gently, though he made no move to take it off. The little gesture was enough to cause an embarrassed flush to rise in her face, though. He was teasing her, she knew it, and she hated it.

"Are you embarrassed?" Marluxia whispered into her ear. The hand on her back moved down, so that his finger was now tracing the curve of her spine. "Don't be, my dear. You have a lovely body..."

Of course saying things like that were just going to embarrass her more--which was precisely why he said them. His hand had reached the waistband of her panties, black lace to match her bra, and he was fiddling with it, snapping the elastic in and out with perverse pleasure. His other hand he'd moved to the front of Zexion's chest, where he gave her breast a gentle squeeze. Zexion's blush deepend and she tried squirming out of his grip--a useless effort, of course.

"Shh, don't protest," Marluxia said, almost soothingly. There was nothing reassuring at all about what he was physically doing, however; Zexion redoubled her squirmed protests as he slowly pulled her panties down to her knees.

"M-Marluxia--stop!"

"What's that? Protesting?" Marluxia said. "Why are you so embarrassed? This is nothing I haven't seen dozens of times before." And to emphasize his point, he slipped his hand between her legs, forcibly parting them, and squeezed. Heat flared down there and Zexion had to bite back a sound that was very possibly a moan.

I am not enjoying this in the slightest, you sick bastard.

"Hmph." Larxene's grouchy voice suddenly sounded from across the room. "Are you going to punish her or fuck her, Marly?"

"Hush, Larxene. Are you questioning me?" Marluxia hadn't turned around, but his voice was low and taut with warning. Zexion, despite herself, felt her shudder a little in sympathy. Whenever he took that tone it meant nothing good.

"No!" Larxene whined. "I'm not! I'm just saying--"

"Save your comments for a time when I'll actually appreciate them," Marluxia said, though he sounded somewhat distracted--probably because he was busy trying to undo the clasps of Zexion's bra. Zexion hissed when she realized what he was attempting, and reacted purely on instinct--before she could stop herself she pushed him firmly in the chest.

It was surprise, more than the force of the push, that sent Marluxia reeling back, a rather stupid expression on his face as if he'd just been hit in the back of the head with a ball-peen hammer. It would have been amusing if the situation hadn't been so grave.

Already Zexion was beginning to regret her idiotic action. She should have just sat back and taken it quietly (Take it like a man, snickered a sardonic voice in the back of her head). Minimal fuss equated minimal pain--you didn't have to be a genius to see that. Barely daring to breathe, clutching her undone bra to her chest to preserve the slight tinge of modesty she had left, she stared at him, her tormenter, captor, and superior, awaiting his judgment with a sick sinking dread.

Strangely, Marluxia didn't immediately lash out in anger; rather, he was fixing her with an eerily calm and detached gaze, as if he wasn't really seeing her. Larxene was of course being Larxene and putting forth a racket of giggling and clapping, but Marluxia didn't seem to notice her, either. His face was perfectly blank. He could have been made of stone.

"S-Superior," Zexion said, forcing the words through her dry and constricted throat. There might still be a chance to salvage the situation... "P-please forgive me, I did not mean to--I, I, I have been--disobedient. That was not--I didn't mean--"

"Silence," Marluxia said, his voice weightless, emotionless. "That goes for you too, Larxene."

Larxene fell silent in an instant. For a brief moment, the only sound in the Lobby was the harsh rasp of Zexion's breathing, loud as thunder in her ears. In that moment she was achingly aware of a sound that ought to be there but was missing--the violent thudding of her own heart.

A heart. As if I would want such a thing again. Ienzo's heart was her downfall.

Then Marluxia spoke, still in that horribly calm tone. "Get into position, Zexion."

"Yes, sir." In ordinary circumstances Zexion would have been as circumspect about obeying as she possibly could get away with--but, well, in ordinary circumstances she didn't try physically shoving Marluxia away from her, either. So she stepped forward without protest, staring at the floor so that she wouldn't have to look at Marluxia or Larxene.

Even those show of unusual contriteness was apparently not enough for Marluxia. "Look up. And you can let go of your bra now; you certainly don't need it anymore."

Zexion was never one to argue with logic when it presented itself, but all the same, she felt (in a visceral, not emotional, way) a strong twinge of discomfort as she uncrossed her arms from her chest and let the bra fall to the floor. It was all she could do to keep from crossing her arms over her chest again; logically she knew it shouldn't bother her since Marluxia had seen her naked countless times, but she hated being exposed because it was just another way that Marluxia held power over her. And another forceful reminder--out of too many--that she was a woman. Weak.

Not to mention uncomfortable. Her breasts bounced heavily with every step and goosebumps had risen on her skin from the chill of the room. And the way Marluxia was smirking at her--any more indecently and he'd be drooling. Which actually was a rather entertaining prospect. Marluxia had more class than that, unfortunately.

"In position," he repeated needlessly, patting the arm of the couch. Zexion considered and reconsidered throwing him a glare, settled for sighing heavily, and adopted the all too familiar position: arms folded on the couch cushion, face buried in her arms, stomach pressed into the arm of the couch while she stood on her tiptoes. She hated this position more than anything because it was quite uncomfortable--after a while of sustaining it her arms and legs without fail went numb, and she felt like she was being sliced in half through the stomach.

Plus, most unappealing of all, the position forced her rear quite prominently into the air. And with her face buried in her arms she couldn't see where any of Marluxia's blows were coming from.

Larxene had started tittering again. Marluxia made noises to shush her, but then shifted towards Zexion. Oh, well, at least she could pinpoint his general location through his stench, which followed him in a noxious cloud wherever he went, and if she focused hard enough she could even detect the musty old leather scent of the belt. So the lashes weren't coming completely out of the blue...not that that was much comfort.

"Zexion," Marluxia said, his voice low and powerful. "Kindly tell me why you are being punished."

Zexion swallowed back the urge to throw at him some choice curses she had learned from Xigbar. This was the worst part of any punishment--being told to list her offenses. In her eyes she had never committed a single sin; Marluxia was the one in the wrong, the uppity neophyte who refused to learn his place.

Telling him this would of course amount to suicide. Zexion quite valued her existence, pitiful as it might be, so she kept her pride in check and mumbled, "I--I was mouthing off. I was forgetting my place."

"That's right. Tell me what your place is. Larxene, if you can't stay silent, you're getting it next."

Zexion bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from snickering. It was always nice, in a shit-eating way, to see Larxene get her due as well. And anything that got Larxene to cease her infernal giggles was a good thing in Zexion's book.

"Now, Zexion. Tell me."

"My place...my p-place is..." Zexion hissed, inwardly protesting against the sour bite of the words as they left her mouth. "Is t-to obey you. To s-serve you...faithfully...with all of my being. And that includes...being appropriately humble."

"And...?"

And what? She'd basically told him everything she was certain he would want to hear. No...not everything.

Corrosive self-hatred bubbling away inside her, she hissed, "And th-that is my place because I am a woman."

Something hot stung the backs of her eyes but she refused to allow it to reach fruition. I have no emotions. I cannot be offended by anything. Nonetheless, in that instant she felt horribly aware of--everything. Of her curves, her breasts pressed painfully against the couch, her bare crotch. Not for the first time she found herself wishing with an illogical fervor that she really was a man. To hell with whatever Xehanort had said to Ienzo all those years ago.

"Good girl. You're learning." Larxene punctuated Marluxia's words with a giggle; Marluxia retorted with an annoyed growl, and Larxene quickly fell silent again.

He gently placed a hand on her upturned backside and stroked her, once, twice. Zexion bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood, determined not to protest. She locked her knees stiffly to keep her legs from shaking.

Thankfully, he removed his hand soon enough, but that was of no comfort to Zexion--because what was coming next was a hundred times worse. Her every nerve felt on fire with anticipation; the cold ball of dread twisted in the pit of her stomach.

The telltale swish of leather through air. A grunt from Marluxia. A crack like a gunshot as the belt met her skin--

And then the pain. Zexion bit even harder on her tongue, reveling in the sour-bitter tang of her own blood as a distraction from the initial sting that soon bloomed into an unbearable heat. She could feel it spreading across her skin like a zebra's stripe, glowing brighter red with every passing second...

Marluxia didn't give her much time to contemplate the first lash, though, before he brought down the belt in another. And another. And another...

It was taking all of Zexion's effort to hold herself still under the endless, merciless rain of lashes. Her arms were trembling and her legs were threatening to give and she had drawn enough blood in her mouth for it to start choking her; she had to swallow it down, making nausea rise in her stomach. Only one conscious thought remained indelibly burned in her pain-fogged mind: Do not scream. Don't you dare show him any pain, any weakness--

It was so hard, though. Marluxia was showing no signs of letting up; hell, he was even increasing the speed and force of his lashes. He kept up a stinging hail all the way from Zexion's lower back to her thighs, painting her pale skin with burning stripe after stripe. At first she had tried counting them but after twenty-one her train of thought slipped completely. Much to her shame she had started whimpering and gasping, making pathetic little noises that she refused to allow to become actual screams or pleas for mercy. Her eyes were stinging painfully, her every muscle ached, she had to desperately fight the urge to kick--and still Marluxia kept up his relentless attack. The belt was falling across her thighs now, creating new bursts of pain and setting old lashes on renewed fire. She was certain some of the lashes were beginning to turn into bruises, given how much force Marluxia was putting into each blow...

Her resolve cracked when Marluxia landed his hardest lash yet in the tender spot where her thighs met her buttocks. She cried out, a dry strangled sound that turned into a yelp when the belt fell across the middle of her rear. "M-Mar--Marluxia--" she found herself choking out, without any idea how she was going to finish that sentence; she just wanted it to stop already--

"Superior," Marluxia growled, rewarding her impertinence with three sharp lashes in quick succession.

"S-S-Superior! Ahh--please--" The voice in her head was ordering her to shut up this instant before she humiliated herself further, but most of her wasn't listening to that little shred of logic anymore. It hurt it hurt it fucking hurt--her entire lower body felt like it was on fire--

"Do you want me to stop, Zexion?" Marluxia said, his tone deceptively detached and clinical. He punctuated his words with another, much harder, lash.

"Y-yes, yes, yes please," Zexion breathed. Tears were blurring her vision but she was determined not to shed them. Certainly most of her dignity was long gone, but at least she could cling on to this tiny fragment.

"O ho ho ho ho!" Another intolerable noblewoman laugh from Larxene. "Poor widdly Zexykins, can't handle her spanking no more, can she--"

"Larxene, kindly be quiet," Marluxia said. "What was that, Zexion? A yes?" The belt cracked half a dozen times across her upper thighs, sending stars in her vision.

"Y-y-yes! Please--please, stop I've learned my lesson I swear--"

"Spread your legs."

"Wh-what?"

It took Zexion a moment to register that Marluxia had stopped lashing her; it took another to register his order. Sick fear clenched her stomach and made her throbbing ass and legs hurt even more. "I--I--please, I'm begging you, n-no more, I've learned--I swear I--"

"You are not the judge of that. Spread your legs."

"So you are gonna fuck her." Larxene's voice was dripping with disgust. Marluxia whirled around and cracked the belt in the air in her direction.

"Larxene! I told you that you could watch under one condition and that is if you kept your mouth shut. If you are going to continue with this impertinence--"

"Sheesh, Marly, no need to--okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Larxene squeaked as Marluxia advanced on her. Zexion found herself dearly hoping that Marluxia was angry enough to beat Larxene on the spot--that would at least mean her own punishment would be cut short.

No such luck. Sometimes Zexion felt that the universe was in fact actively conspiring against her. Marluxia rounded back on her in an instant, cracking the belt across her buttocks and sending the numbed lashes on fire again. "Zexion, I gave you an order."

Hating herself (even moreso than she already did, at any rate), Zexion whispered, "Y-yes, sir," and hastened to obey. She spread her legs as wide as they could go without her losing her balance, burning in shame as she exposed her most private parts to him. A hiccup rose in her throat but she savagely suppressed it.

I have given him every other victory so far. He will not have the satisfaction of seeing me cry!

"Good girl," Marluxia said; a sudden drift of his horrible rose stench alerted Zexion to his sudden closeness. She squirmed a little and fought against the powerful urge to close her legs. She couldn't see him but was absolutely certain of what he was staring at.

Her worst suspicions were confirmed when he reached betwen her legs and stroked her pussy with deceptive gentleness. She gasped and stiffened and fought like a devil the sudden heat that rose in the pit of her stomach--she would not give him that satisfaction--would not--

"You're wet, you naughty girl," Marluxia said roughly. "Have you been enjoying this?"

"N-no, no, I--" Zexion whispered, mortified. Larxene had started up another storm of infernal giggles, which didn't seem to bother Marluxia so much this time since he wasn't telling her to stop. Zexion found herself furiously wishing that he would.

"Naughty girl," Marluxia repeated, tracing the edges of Zexion's pussy lips. She wriggled a bit but didn't dare cross her legs or shake his touch off. "I don't think you have learned your lesson, to be honest."

"S-Superior, please," she groaned. Her bottom and thighs were throbbing horribly; there was no way she could handle another belting.

"Hearing you beg is such a treat, Zexion," Marluxia said. "You have a wonderful alto, you know. Perhaps you should learn to sing?"

Funny, IX had made the same offer to her a while ago. Demyx. Thinking about him made her want to retch--he was just too innocent and naive and altogether stupid to be part of the Organization. A bit of a sore loser and whiner too, though that was his fault for always challenging her to Stratego games when it was clear that he didn't know the first thing about the rules. Demyx wasn't much fun to play against because he lost quickly; there was never a challenge. Now, Axel and Xigbar were much better Stratego players--perhaps she should ask Axel for a game after this, but lately he'd preferred playing chess even though he was much worse at that than Stratego...

Oh, dear lord. What the hell was she thinking about?

"Larxene, dear," Marluxia called over his shoulder, "would you be so kind as to fetch me the switch? Thank you."

Zexion felt as if she'd swallowed a gallon of freezing water. For the first time she dared to look at Marluxia, throwing a wild glance behind her just to make sure that he wasn't jesting. She got a good view of Marluxia ironically smiling, and Larxene doubled over in a fit of laughter as she hobbled her way from the room.

"Ohhh Zexykins is gonna be getting it good," she chirped between giggles. "Are you gonna be punishing that naughty pussy, Marly?"

"Yes," Marluxia said, his eyebrows twitching slightly, "and yours will be next if you don't hurry it up."

Larxene practically skipped from the Lobby.

"S-Superior, please, d-don't, don't, I've learned my lesson, I-I'll be a good girl from now on," Zexion babbled, staring helplessly into Marluxia's eyes. Marluxia's smile tightened and he pushed her head back down into her folded arms, not roughly, but with considerable force.

"Keep in position, my dear."

"Superior, please," Zexion begged. "I--I'll do whatever you want in bed tonight, just don't--don't beat me anymore, I've learned--"

"Funny how you say that every time, Zexion, yet you never actually do learn."

Yes, perhaps because your punishments are not effective in the first damned place! she thought feverishly, though it would have been suicide to say it out loud.

"Marly!" Larxene chirped, hopping back into the Lobby. "Here ya go!"

"Why, thank you. Now, Zexion." With a rustle of terrycloth Marluxia turned back to her; tears swam in Zexion's vision and nausea rose in her throat. It was happening whether she liked it or not. As ever, in the face of Marluxia's control, she was powerless.

"Keep those legs spread...good girl." He patted her once, twice, on the rear; though he was consciously being gentle, the slightest touch against Zexion's tender skin was enough to send pain screaming through her nerves. She forced it back, though, as always.

"Do you remember why you are being punished?"

Silly question, and he seemed to be channeling Axel as of the moment. Yes, I have got it fucking memorized, she thought bitterly. "Yes, sir," she said aloud, more contritely.

"Tell me, then."

"I--I need to learn my place. Superior."

"That's a good girl. And can you tell me what your place is?"

"T-to serve and obey you, Superior."

"Why?"

Because you're a sick pervert who gets off on power trips. "B-because I am a woman."

"And...?"

"And...and because...it is the lot of every young woman to learn humility."

"Excellent. You know, perhaps you really are as intelligent as everyone says you are."

"Gahahaha! Ooh, burn," was Larxene's helpful input.

Marluxia very wisely ignored her. "Zexion," he said, and his tone was more gentle than it had been all evening; Zexion, despite herself, listened to him with full attention. "I do believe that you are learning. As such, this will be your last beating for today. Am I not a merciful Superior?"

"Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir." A little flattery could go a long way.

"I will not hold it against you if you cry or beg for me to stop," Marluxia continued. "It's perfectly natural. You've been very brave so far, but if you feel the need to break down, well...I'm not stopping you."

Bastard. You're doing this on purpose. I refuse to give you that victory. Out loud, she said through gritted teeth, "Yes, sir."

"Good. I'm glad we understand. Larxene, quit giggling. You're giving me a headache."

"Oh, so sorry, Marly," Larxene said, with another spate of giggles. Marluxia sighed heavily, and Zexion realized right then that she wasn't the only one of Marluxia's girls who was going to get punished tonight. Somehow, she found that thought comforting--hell, even amusing. And fair to boot. If Larxene was going to enjoy schadenfreude on Zexion's expense, then who was to say that the Schemer couldn't turn the tables?

All of her satisfaction was quickly dashed from her, though, when Marluxia brought the switch whistling through the air--and firmly cracked it between her legs.

Zexion stiffened and, to her shame, cried out--it'd been a while since Marluxia had last used the switch on her, and like this, as well. Unlike the belt, with its relative brief sting followed by a deep and slow burn, the switch was practically all sting, and it hurt like hell, especially against the tender flesh of her pussy. She chomped down hard on her tongue again; anything to keep from screaming.

"Mm, a little wider, Zexion. Don't start closing your legs," Marluxia said as he kept up a hail of stinging lashes. "That's good, good girl--"

Tears were beginning to well up in Zexion's eyes and she could barely breathe through the heavy lump in her throat. It wasn't that this beating was more painful than any of the others Marluxia had given her--in fact, compared to the first one, it barely hurt at all. But the humiliation...that she couldn't stand. He was taking care to confine his blows to her most private parts, her most female parts--her pussy, her inner thighs, even a blow or two to her clit. He was doing this less to hurt her than to remind her of her place.

Larxene was practically rolling around on the floor laughing, making matters all the worse. As Marluxia landed a particularly sharp lash to her inner thigh, Zexion gave in to her utter humiliation and let the tears fall. She buried her face further into her arms, not wanting either of the two awful neophytes to see--this moment of weakness was hers alone. Nonetheless she couldn't stop the sobs from shaking her slender frame nor the pathetic little whimpers from escaping her lips.

Finally, after much too long, Marluxia finished with a series of concentrated blows to her pussy, each one a little more foreceful than the last. Zexion howled aloud, screaming until her voice broke and no sound could escape her throat save dry sobs and hiccups.

Pathetic. That was all she was. Utterly pathetic, a silly little girl who'd gotten involved in matters far above her head. Cloaked Schemer nothing. She was essentially the same as Ienzo. A weakling. A weak little girl, always dependent on a man to guide her to the right path in life. And what a marvelous job Xehanort had done at that.

She was sobbing openly now, not caring if Larxene or Marluxia saw. Her entire body was burning, not just where Marluxia had beaten her but also her muscles from holding this position for too long.

"Good girl," Marluxia murmured, running a hand through her sweat-soaked hair. Zexion shuddered under the tenderness of the gesture. It was such a marked contrast from the strength with which he'd been beating her before, and a definite contrast from Larxene's continued giggle-snorting.

"S-S-Superior, I--" Zexion choked out, though she had no idea what she was going to say.

"Shh. You don't need to say anything. Here, let me see..." Gently guiding her inner thighs apart, he parted her legs for a better look at her pussy. Zexion whimpered, mortified, and tried crossing her legs, but Marluxia forced them apart again using his knee. "Ahh...good. You're not injured too badly. Naturally you'll be stinging quite badly down there for a couple of days, but it's nothing a naughty girl like you doesn't deserve."

Another sob broke through, despite her best efforts. She hated this the most--how he was gentle after a beating. It was all for show, of course. Carefully calculated to bring her loyalty all the more undisputably to his side. The worst thing was that...it worked, in the sickest way possible. She turned to his comfort, to his low murmurs and gentle words, no matter how badly he might have beaten her beforehand. She needed it.

Needed it the same way that Ienzo had needed Xehanort. Silly Ienzo, heartless Xehanort. How fitting that the two of them had ended up where they were now.

That was the one thing Marluxia absolutely could not break, no matter how hard he tried. Certainly Zexion now owed a level of genuine loyalty to him, but most of her being still belonged to Xemnas. She didn't know if Marluxia was aware of this--she hoped he wasn't--but it was more than apparent to her. For Xemnas, she was willing to suffer everything. Even...this.

Anyone who knew about her situation could say whatever they liked. They could disparage her, look down on her for her constant weakness. She couldn't blame them for that and even agreed. But one thing no one could deny was that four months of being Marluxia's slave had put her into contact with a plethora of information she would never have found otherwise.

"I am Zexion, number VI, the Cloaked Schemer. Master of illusions. My specialty lies in espionage and reconnaissance," she had told Marluxia as part of the standard introduction when they had first met. If only he'd kept those words in heart.

"You've been good, Zexion," Marluxia murmured, scooping her into his arms. Zexion wearily entertained the notion of thrashing out of his grip, but the floor was rather a long way beneath her. Instead, she curled up close to his bare chest, seeking out his warmth. Hell, even his rose stench wasn't as bad as it was before. Marluxia hummed a tuneless song as he ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it over her forehead and pausing occasionally to wipe away her tears.

"Superior," she said quietly. "I--I know now. I've learned my lesson. I...am yours."

"I don't doubt it," Marluxia said, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I'm lucky and grateful for that."

"Hey!" screamed Larxene, rudely shattering the moment. "Marly! Quit ignoring me, will you? C'mon, that bitch doesn't need you as much as I do."

"Larxene," Marluxia said, his voice taut with disapproval--the same disapproval that so easily made shivers run down Zexion's spine. Now, though, the shivers were those of anticipation. Larxene did get punished but not nearly as often as Zexion did, so it was always a treat to watch her getting her due.

"Marly," Larxene whined, her hands on her hips.

"Don't 'Marly' me," Marluxia said. "Listen up. I have been very generous today, allowing you to watch Zexion's punishment. But even my patience has a limit. You've been nothing short of rude and disruptive this evening, refusing to shut up even when I specifically ordered you to remain quiet. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Marly, don't lecture me when you're carrying her around," Larxene said.

"I take that's the extent of your defense?" Marluxia said ironically. "Very well, then. After I finish with putting Zexion to bed, I expect to find you in the Lobby with your nose to the wall, wearing nothing but your bra, panties, and stockings. Any defiance will earn you much further displeasure. Is that understood?"

"Marly, you can't--"

"Larxene!"

As Marluxia stepped through the door out of the Lobby, Zexion peered over the crook of his elbow to throw the silently fuming Larxene a "sucks to be you" smirk. When she saw, Larxene jerked as if she'd been slapped.

"Go to hell, you bitch!" she screamed.

Well. Not many things in this life were worth more than that.

To anyone who managed to make it to the end: Bravo, you are a warrior.

I don't know what I was thinking while writing this. I doubt I can even get back into this mood. I do have about half a second chapter written, which delves somewhat into characterizaton and character motivations more than this one does, so who knows, maybe I'll finish it.

Let it be known that I do not agree in the slightest with any opinions expressed by Marluxia in this story. As a matter of fact, I do consider myself a feminist and am unapologetic about it. It was just an experiment to write the most douchebaggy kind of chauvinist possible. If I feel like continuing this story, Marluxia will eventually get his due and who knows? Maybe "what he deserves" (if you get my drift) from Xemnas and Vexen.

Review if you wish. Even if it's just to rail at me for writing this sickening shit.