Summary: Princess Azula is a prodigy that took no shit from anyone or anything. Even something like a Bedding Ceremony with her newfound husband in front of a bunch of old geezers was nothing to her. So why? Why in the world was she was gasping and shrieking from back-to-back orgasms? How in the world was some commoner man managing to get the better of her? Who in the world gave this bastard permission to have such a huge cock?
And WHY did she not want it to stop?
*********
A prosperous nation of tyranny and feudal lords. That was the Fire Nation. They respected power. They respected the military. They respected their history. Most of all, they respected their elders and the traditions that made them what they were. No one was exempt from these traditions, not even the Fire Lord himself. Not even his one and only daughter.
The heavy, ornate doors to the High Temple groaned open. Temple. Princess Azula stood framed in the doorway, her posture as rigid and perfect as the sharpened steel of a broadsword.
Tonight, Princess Azula was to be married. Not for love, not for alliance, but for duty.
'Tch. These fools.'
Marriage alone meant nothing. Azula would have gone with it as long as her father gave the word. This—her presence here—was not of her father's words but the Fire Sages. This irked her. A specifically humiliating duty reserved for the second-born, a constant reminder that she was, and always would be, the spare.
She was here for something called the Bedding Ceremony.
The Bedding Ceremony was designed to break any burgeoning pride, to place her on the same level as breeding stock in front of the stoic, judgmental Fire Sages. But Azula was not some common mare to be led to stud. She was a dragon, and she would be the one holding the reins.
Azula's eyes swept the room, past the six hooded Fire Sages standing in a silent semicircle, their faces shadowed. Her gaze went from them and landed on the man selected to be her husband.
'Toshiro. Hmph.'
Toshro was her husband's name. The name was all she had been given. His family, she surmised, was that of some wealthy noble. The kind that owned a sector of business or land that her father deemed important. But she could not say for sure. She knew nothing other than his name, Oh, and the useless descriptor: 'affirming and kind'. Weakness. Azula would feast on it. He stood near the low, wide ceremonial bed, dressed in the same deep crimson robes as her. He looked… ordinary. Pleasantly handsome with round spectacles, perhaps, with a calmness about him that felt utterly out of place in her world.
A smirk, cold and predatory, touched Azula's lips. 'What a nerd. This will be over quickly.'
The Eldest Fire Sage's voice boomed through the chamber, agitatingly old and devoid of emotion. "The Bedding Ceremony may now commence. May the flames of passion forge a strong heir for the Fire Nation."
On cue, the intricate clasp at Azula's shoulders gave way. Her heavy red outer robes slid from her body, pooling at her feet on the cold stone floor. She stood before them all, back straight, chin held high, wearing nothing but a scrap of red silk that disappeared between her thighs. An erotic thong that showed her heart-shaped ass.
The chill air pebbled her skin, but she ignored it. Azula was raised to be toned and lethal, and she saw the slight intake of breath from two of the younger Sages.
Good. Let them look. Let them all see her utter lack of shame. She was in control.
Azula marched toward Toshiro, her bare feet making no sound. His eyes were wide, not with lust, but with something akin to startled respect. It irked her.
"H-hi—"
She wanted fear. She grabbed the lapels of his robe, yanking him down to her level, and crushed her mouth to his.
It was not a kiss of passion, but of domination. A claiming. Her tongue invaded his mouth, demanding submission. She expected him to falter, to be clumsy and hesitant. Instead, his lips were soft, responsive. His hands came up not to push her away, but to gently rest on her hips, his thumbs making slow, calming circles on her bare skin. The touch was infuriatingly pleasant.
'Focus, you fool.'
Her plan was to undress him, to feel his average, manageable cock, and get this farce over with.
Her hand slipped between them, fingers deftly finding the tie of his robe. She undid the knot with a sharp pull. The robe fell open. Her hand slid inside, down the plane of his stomach, seeking its target. Her confident, grasping fingers found… nothing. Or rather, they found something so substantial her fingers couldn't connect around it. Her brow furrowed mid-kiss. 'What in Agni's name?'
She looked down. They hadn't even spoken a word to each other. Azula kissed him, tried to undo his robe, and then grabbed his cock.
His flaccid cock—which bewildered her mind. His flaccid cock—which was a thick, heavy weight in her hand, a length her fingers could not hope to encircle.
'Eh? Huh? What? What? What? What?'
Azuka broke the kiss with a sharp, almost gasped intake of air, her composure cracking.
A stunned, utterly unprofessional silence fell over the chamber. One of the Fire Sages dropped his ceremonial incense burner. The metallic clang was absurdly loud.
Holy fuck.
It was huge. Even completely soft, it was the most intimidating thing she had ever seen. Long, thick, and resting on his thigh. Princess Azula's mind, usually a whirlwind of precise calculations, went utterly, completely blank.
She didn't know this but, yes, while Toshiro's family was wealthy, it was not within the upper echelon of wealth within the Fire Nation. The only reason his family had been chosen was for their famed virility, their ability to produce heirs quickly and efficiently. The Fire Sages assumed it was a matter of potent seed. No one had considered it might also be a matter of…
'What the fuck kind of dick is this!?'
Under her stunned gaze, it began to change. It was a slow, inexorable transformation, like a great serpent uncoiling. There was no awkward twitch, no hurried stiffness. It was a graceful, terrifying unfurling of pure, primal masculinity. Blood flooded into the magnificent organ, thickening it, lengthening it, lifting it from Toshiro until it stood at a dizzying, impossible full mast. A true thirteen-inch monster, jutting out from his body like a monument to virility, veined and ruddy and so utterly, devastatingly real.
Azula actually stumbled back a step, the movement utterly graceless for the first time in her life. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a war drum. 'This… this cannot go inside me. It will split me in two.'
Toshiro's face was a man of gentle concern. "Princess?" he asked, soft and patient. There was no arrogance in his tone, no gloating. Only a genuine question. "Are you ready?"
Right. Right. It wasn't, "Let's stop," it was, "Are you ready?" Because they had to do this. They had to.
'Yet to ask me, Azula…!'
His kindness was the spark that reignited her fury. He questioned her in front of the Sages? Never. Her pride, her infamous control, slammed back into place like a portcullis. She forced the smirk back onto her face, though it felt tighter now. More brittle.
"Stop?" Azula scoffed and her next remark was a low, sizzling ember. "We've only just begun, my husband Toshiro."
Toshiro just blinked. Thirteen inches of dick separated them.
Azula closed the distance again, kissing him with renewed, desperate ferocity. This time, her hand found its target with purpose, wrapping as best it could around the immense girth of his erection. Her fingers couldn't meet. They just couldn't. She began to stroke him, feeling the impossible hardness, the silken skin sliding over the unyielding core beneath.
Shlick! Shlick!
Her handjob wasn't especially lewd. It made her core clench with a strange, terrifying thrill. This long cock…
Her hand went from base and he could only go up to ten inches. That was how fucking long it was.
"By the spirits," one of the Sages whispered, his vow of silence broken.
Toshiro broke their kiss, his breath warm against her cheek. "Perhaps… we should lie down?" he suggested, ever the gentleman.
Yes. The bed. A horizontal surface. This was a tactical advantage she could use. She would reassert control. She would dominate this situation and him.
"You first," Azula commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. She pointed a single, sharp-nailed finger at the bed. "Lie down."
He obeyed without hesitation, settling back onto the crimson silks. The sight that greeted her stole the air from her lungs anew. He was laid out before her and his colossal cock stood straight up, a proud, glistening tower against the flat plane of his stomach. It looked both absurd and awe-inspiring. A feast of masculine power.
Azula…liked men, but she never acted. Because to act on passion meant to jeopardize her father's ambitions. Her father taught her to be cold-hearted.
This cock and its throbbing state…it was threatening to melt her heart. But a threat was nothing if she could act first.
"Haah…!"
This was it. The moment. Swallowing the lump of pure, undiluted fear in her throat, Azula climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips. She had her palm press his cock against her stomach. She gulped. It went so, so high…
"I-it'll be going THIS deep," Azula managed to say. "You asked me if I was ready, Toshiro, but I should ask you first, shouldn't I?"
This was their first real conversation. Husband and wife, talking not about their passions and hobbies but what they would do during sex. They were skipping several steps.
"Thank you, Princess. I hope to be adequate enough."
Adequate…?
"Adequate." Azula snorted and then burst into laughter. "Y-you're, aah, hilarious. Really."
Because she was sweating. Her breathing was uneven and only after several chants was she able to pick herself up onto his cock. Her virgin pussylips trembled upon experiencing the huge cockhead.
'D-don't be a coward, Azula! What are you, Zuko!? Do it! Just do it!'
She had the talent. She had nineteen years of virginity. She had everything. She was going to shut this cock up with her tight pussy and that would be that.
She lowered herself slowly, a gasp hissing through her teeth as the girth of his monstrous erection stretched her cunt. It was so broad that her mind raced, calculating angles and depths with a cold, clinical panic.
'It will go so deep. It will touch places nothing has ever touched. It will fucking…
Own me.
But she refused to even think it.
"S-sit up," Azula stammered. "Now."
Toshiro listened and sat up. Azula gripped his shoulders for balance. She could feel the eyes of the Sages burning into her back, but they were a distant concern. The only thing that existed in this moment was the terrifying, magnificent man beneath her and the instrument of her potential undoing.
"I am going to ride you now, husband," Azula breathed, the words a vow and a threat rolled into one. "Be honoured by my cunt."
Taking a final, shaky breath, her wetness, a betrayal her body refused to hide, gleamed and she went down. The broad, spongy head of his cock stretched her entrance further. It felt like being touched by a heated stone. So big. So fucking big.
Azula locked her eyes with his. Behind the round glasses were dark pupils that were patient, watching her with an intensity that felt like he could see straight through her bravado to the terrified princess within. She blocked it out. She was Azula. She feared nothing.
With a final, silent prayer to any spirit that might be listening, she began to lower herself.
The first sensation was a stretching. A slow, inexorable yielding of her pussy to his cock. A hot, thick pressure that began to fill her, centimeter by agonizing centimeter. A soft, wet shlorp echoed in the silent room as her body reluctantly accepted the first incredible inch. A shockwave of pure ecstasy, a confusing mix of pleasure and sharp, stretching discomfort, radiated out from her core. Her eyes widened. Her heart hammered.
Oh. Oh, fuck.
It was so much. It was too much. It was—
'No!' She silenced the scream of her own instincts. She was a princess of the Fire Nation. She would not be bested by her husband's cock. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to sink down another impossible inch.
The stretching was a fire of its own, a white-hot forge of sensation that bloomed deep inside her. 'Another inch!' Her inner walls fluttered, a desperate, involuntary clench around the impossible girth. A groan left her, but…it was a sound she didn't recognize as her own. The wet, obscene noises of her cunt struggling to accommodate the monster cock filled the High Temple.
"Hnggghh! Ngggh!"
Ever little sound seemed full of humiliation. Azula hated it. She hated sounding pathetic.
'I am taking him. I am conquering this,' she chanted in her mind. Her knuckles turned white, sliding down his shoulder where they pressed against his chest for balance. 'A-a-another inch…!'
The stretch became a sharp, burning ache, a fullness that could only be said to be pleasure. Azula was a virgin and a prodigy. She could take it. She could! But…
"W-w-won't…!"
But there was a difference in just taking it and taking it with control. The former would mean…f-fuck, it was obvious what it meant! A deep, throbbing pulse of pleasure that originated and spread from the very core of her being, radiating outward with every millimeter she descended.
His cock was a brand, searing her from the inside out, reshaping her. She was maybe halfway down its terrifying length, and her breath was coming in ragged, shallow pants. Her hips trembled violently with the strain of holding herself aloft, of controlling this devastatingly slow descent. A sheen of sweat coated her skin, making her glow under the candlelight. She could feel the eyes of the Sages on her, but their stares felt distant, unimportant next to the singular, world-ending reality of the cock currently splitting her in two.
"H-how far am I?"
Toshiro just blinked. "Halfway there, Princess. Do you need help, Princess. Here, let…"
"W-w-wait, no—!"
"...me."
Then it happened. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down another three inches. A total of ten inches of cock.
She knew it. She predicted it. The genius understood that this might be the end of her domination, as as powerful, uncontrollable tremor wracked her body. Her eyes screwed shut. Her head fell back, a choked cry escaping her lips as a seismic orgasm detonated deep within her. It wasn't a gentle wave; it was a tsunami, crashing through her with relentless, devastating force. "Nnngghhh—FUCK!"
Her channel spasmed around him, a frantic, milking pulse-pulse-pulse that made the entire monstrous length inside her twitch in response. His cock casually throbbing within her convulsing depths triggered a second, smaller climax immediately on its heels. "Hah! Ah! Oh, SPIRITIS—" Azula's eyes rolled back and she half-consciously rode the waves, her carefully constructed control shattering into a million pieces.
Her vision swam. She was barely aware of her own voice, a pathetic, whimpering thing. 'I… I came. Twice. And he's not even all the way in.' The thought was a splash of cold water, followed immediately by another scalding hot rush of pleasure as she shifted minutely, sending new shocks through her oversensitized nerves. She was a prodigy. She would not be defeated.
Gathering the tattered remains of her pride, Azula forced her eyes open. She looked down at Toshiro, expecting to see awe, or perhaps smug satisfaction at her unraveling. Instead, she found only that he was confused. He misread her trembling, her agonizingly slow pace as consideration for him.
"My Princess?" he asked. "You don't have to take your time with me. Here. Really, I know you're holding back."
"H-h-huh? W-wait, I'm not—"
His warm hands settled on her ass cheeks. They weren't grasping or demanding. They were… supportive. A gentle, almost placating hold.
And then he dragged her down.
It wasn't violent. It was casual. An assist. A kind suggestion made manifest.
The effect was cataclysmic.
Every single, massive, throbbing inch of his thirteen-inch cock pistoned into her in one devastating, seamless motion. A casual descent that was wet, final, and utterly vulgar. Azula's body arched like a drawn bowstring, a silent, breathless scream frozen on her face. Her nostrils flared wide. Her eyes saw nothing but white-hot static. Every muscle in her body locked and then jittered uncontrollably—her legs, her arms, her fingers splaying out in shock.
The feeling was beyond comprehension. It was a fullness so absolute it felt like he was in her throat. He bottomed out inside her, the thick base of his cock stretching her pussylips to its limit while the head kissed a place deep inside her she never knew existed. The pressure was immense, unbelievable, a constant, throbbing invasion that overwhelmed every single one of her senses.
A third orgasm ripped through her, this one a silent, shuddering convulsion that left her limp. Then, a fourth, a sharp, electric jolt that made her toes curl and her back bow off of him for a second before she collapsed forward, her face smashing into his chest, her body going completely slack.
"Unnhhh…!"
A feeble, broken sound was all she could manage. Azula's mind was empty of everything but the cock. The fucking, monstrous, amazing cock that was still inside her, still hard, still throbbing with a life of its own.
Toshiro's chest rumbled beneath her cheek. "Azula? Are you all right? Was that… too much?"
His voice was laced with genuine worry. He truly didn't understand. How could he? Both of them were virgins with the young man particularly unaware of his gifts. While the princess' response was a series of ragged, hitched inhales and soft, pathetic exhales that were barely more than whimpers. She tried to form words, to tell him to be still, to give her a moment, to curse his entire lineage for blessing him with such a weapon. All that came out was a weak, "Nnngh… mmmph…"
Azula tried to push herself up, to reclaim some semblance of position, of dominance, but her arms were useless noodles. Her core muscles were dissolved into jelly, still quivering from the aftershocks. The slightest movement sent new, dizzying signals of pleasure-pain-fullness screaming through her nervous system. She was utterly, completely broken on his cock, and a distant, horrified part of her never, ever wanted to move again.
It was then that a soft, collective gasp came from the circle of Fire Sages. Azula managed to turn her head, her cheek still smushed against Toshiro's pectoral.
Around them and the bed were a hundred candles. All of them were lit blue. But four of the ceremonial candles, which had thus far been burning with a steady blue flame, suddenly flickered and then roared into a brilliant crimson fire. The magic woven into the ancient rite had counted them. Yes, that's right, they counted her orgasms.
Four candles. Four orgasms.
The current record for a Bedding Ceremony, a mark of shame and virility both, was seven.
Azula, the prodigy, the master tactician, the unbreakable princess, was already more than halfway there, and the ceremony had scarcely begun. She stared at the blazing crimson lights, her pussy a numb void.
'All because of this coccckkk…!'
Azula's world had narrowed to the single, devastating point where their bodies joined. The candles burned crimson. Four times. Four times she had shattered on his cock without him even moving.
"Oh, so you've already finished four times?" Toshiro's question hung in the air, sincere and utterly disarming. Okay, so he knew THIS but not the fact that he was hung like a horse? Or that Azula was struggling?
'They mean I'm losing,' she thought, the humiliation a fresh coil of heat in her gut. 'They mean everyone sees how this cock owns me.' But she would not voice that. Control was a narrative, and she would write it herself.
"T-t-they, hnggh, mean you should move," Azula commanded, her voice a strained imitation of its usual sharp authority. She braced her hands on his chest, her knuckles white. "Fuck me, Toshiro. Slowly."
He obeyed with that infuriating, gentle patience. His hips raised a fraction of an inch, a minuscule retreat that made her inner muscles clench needily. Then he pressed back up, a slow, inexorable glide that filled the empty space with a deep, groaning thrust.
"Oh FUCK—!"
Azula's head fell back. It was too much. Every nerve ending was a live wire. His gentle, shallow rhythm was a form of torture more exquisite than any she could devise. Each time he slid back in, the thick crown of his cock dragged against a spot so deep and so sensitive it stole the breath from her lungs. A high, involuntary whine escaped her throat.
She tried to move, to grind down on him and reclaim the pace, but her body was liquid fire, her muscles useless and trembling. She was a passenger, and he was driving her straight into the sun.
"Is this acceptable, Princess?" he asked.
"F-fuck! Fuck no, it's not acceptable! I-i-i-it's—!" She gasped. Azula had to look pathetic by now. "J-just harder!" she gasped, the order tearing from her lips. "Don't… don't treat me like glass. Fuck me harder."
Toshiro's pace shifted instantly. The gentle rocking became a series of powerful, driving thrusts. CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! His pelvis met hers with a sharp, wet slap that reverberated through the grand hall. Azula's carefully constructed composure shattered.
The fifth orgasm seized her, a lightning strike of pure sensation that arched her spine until it felt it might snap. Another candle blazed crimson. Then a sixth, as he didn't stop, his massive length pistoning into her with a steady rhythm.
"Oh fuck, oh gods!! T-t-this dick! This diiickkk! It's going so FUCKING DEEEP~!"
To the spectacled young man, this was nothing. He was hardly trying. He was…confused.
"Spirits! Fuck!" she screamed, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her vision spotted. She was nothing but a vessel for this feeling, a pussy designed solely to take this magnificent, impossible cock. The thought was horrifying. It was the most thrilling thing she had ever known.
"Toshiro… your cock… it's… nnngh!" She couldn't even form the words.
'It's the biggest. It's the best. It's ruining me for anyone else—'
What? What in the world was she saying? This…this wasn't Azula. Azula was—
"CUMMIIING!!! THIS BIG DICK IS MAKING ME CUMMM!"
Azula was dominant. Azula could pick up any art, whether it was Fire Bending or martial arts. She was—
"CUMMINGCUMMINGCUMMINNNNG~!"
The candles kept turning. Eight. Nine. Ten. The previous record of seven was a distant, pathetic memory. She was in uncharted territory, and her body was his map. Every deep, grinding thrust splorched and gurgled inside her. She…she was utterly drenched and stretched for him. For this ordinary young man.
Her desire for control was a ghost, a wisp of smoke in the inferno he was stoking. There was no winning against this. There was only surrender. The realization was a final, devastating release in itself.
Saliva trickled from the corners of her lips. Azula grinned. She hardly recognized herself as she screamed and shrieked, "YESSSS!!! THIS IS WHAT A MAN SHOULD BE DOING! FUCK ME, FUCK ME!!! FUCK MEEE!!!"
Knowing not to look badass, knowing she was just this cock's whore, Azula grabbed her husband and kissed him. While his thrusts kept going and thrusting, she nibbled at his lips and was starving for a kiss. For him. For everything he was.
"P-princess…!"
The kiss ended and her voice was a raw, desperate plea wrapped in a command. It was the last vestige of her pride. "Forget gentle. Forget patient. My husband… fuck me. Fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like you want to break me. Ruin this cunt in front of everyone. Do it. Now."
Toshiro blinked and simply nodded. "Y-yes, ma'am.!
He shifted his grip, his large hands grabbing her ass cheeks with a firmness that made her gasp. He lifted her effortlessly, almost entirely off his cock, leaving only the monstrous tip stretching her entrance. For a horrifying, exquisite second, she was empty. Then he drove her back down, sheathing himself to the hilt in one brutal, perfect stroke.
Azula's scream was muffled against his neck as the eleventh orgasm, and the twelfth, and then a flood of them she couldn't possibly count, detonated through her in a continuous, shattering cascade. The crimson candles were a blazing forest of fire, their light dancing across the stunned, aroused faces of the Fire Sages.
CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—! CLAP—!
"Where!? WHEERRE!! WHERE WERE YOU ALL MY LIFFEEEE!!"
The noises were filthy, loud, and undeniable.
Her body was no longer her own. It was a instrument of pleasure, played by a master. She was sobbing, babbling, chanting his name as she threw her head back. "Toshiro…! Toshiroooo!!! TOSHIRROOO!!!"
Everyone could see her face now. Her pathetic, drooling animalistic side. Pride? That no longer existed. She was more than happy to discard and show her womanly side to these fools.
Innocent Toshiro thought she was genuinely asking about him. "I'm, um, the son of a business owner on Ember Island. We do—"
"I'M YOUR HUNGRY SLUT! I'M YOUR COCK HUNGRY SLUT! I AMMM~!!"
"And, ermm, we sell watermelons and fruits and stuff…"
"PUNISH THIS PRINCESS PUSSSYY! PUNISH ITTT!! I'VE BEEN SUCH A BAD GIRL AND FOR ONCE—FOR ONCE, I-I'VE FOUND SOMEONE THAT SHOULD PUNISH MEEE~!!!"
He held her tight, his rhythm becoming a deep drilling that reached a place inside her she never knew existed. She could feel the base of his shaft, thick and unyielding, grinding against her clit with every plunge, sending sparks of blinding pleasure behind her eyelids.
The count was absurd. Forty. Forty-one. The High Temple was suddenly thick with the scent of sex and smoke. Azula was a quivering, mindless thing, held upright only by his arms and the cock that impaled her.
Her hands went around him. Azula…hugged him. Yes, she was hugging someone. Not even her father had ever hugged her. No one had. But this man had.
Her pussy clenched.
"G-gonna cum soon, princess."
Her pussy got that tight too. His thrusts became shallower, frantic.
Azula, the prodigy, the unbreakable princess, was a broken mess astride him, her body no longer her own but an instrument played to a symphony of her own shuddering, continuous climaxes. But she managed to catch her breath, unglue herself from his chest, and look up at him. With trembling lips, she had a nail lift his chin. "Y-you better do it inside."
Throb.
Her eyes rolled back. "Fuuuckkkk….!" And she went splat against his chest again.
The crimson candles, now a forest of forty-seven furious pillars of fire, cast an erotic, hellish glow on the proceedings. Their light danced across the sheen of sweat on Toshiro's chest and glistened on the drool that traced a path from Azula's slack mouth to his skin.
She was babbling, a continuous, mindless litany of pleasure. "Toshiro… your cock… that fucking cock… it's better be filling…me…s-s-soon…!"
"A-are you sure? The ritual will end after this…"
"O-oh." Her eyes, glazed and unfocused, managed to flutter open. She saw the tension in his jaw, the way his brow furrowed in concentration. A fresh, weak jolt of pain sparked through her as he seemed to get even harder inside her, his girth stretching her to a new, impossible limit. "Heh. So what? We're married now, we can do this as much as we'd like, dear. S-so, nngh, do it," she slurred, her voice raw from screaming. "Fill me, Toshiro. Pump your fucking seed in me. Breed your princess."
He looked like a proud servant, when in reality, it was the opposite. She was his servant. She was a slave to his cock.
"Here it is, Princess! Toshiro slammed her down onto him one last time and held her there. He was buried to the absolute hilt.
The first spurt, Azula felt it like a hot, liquid punch deep in her womb, a thick, voluminous blast of cum that made her already oversensitive walls clench and spasm in a feeble, forty-eighth orgasm. Her eyes rolled back into her head.
Then came the second. SPURT! And a third. SPURT! It was a torrent, an unending geyser of his essence. Toshiro's huge balls, which had drawn up tight against his body, unloaded a staggering quantity of cum inside her. With each powerful, pulsing spurt from his monstrous cock, her stomach felt fuller, warmer. A branding claim from the inside out. Her womb became a haven of cum, of sloshing sounds from within her.
He kept cumming, painting her deepest parts white with a fertility that was clearly his family's legendary birthright. The flood seemed to last for minutes, until Azula felt absolutely, utterly stuffed. A tiny, overwhelmed whimper escaped her lips as a final, thick rope jetted into her.
Slowly, carefully, Toshiro's grip on her hips loosened. He looked down at the woman collapsed on his chest. "Princess, are you…?"
"C-cockk…gghhgnnk…gshhhkkk…!"
The aftershocks.
She could barely stay conscious.
With a soft, wet sound that made Azula jolt—ploop—his massive, softening cock slid out of her utterly ravaged pussy.
The evidence of his creampie was immediate and profane. A thick, pearly glob of cum oozed out after him, tracing a path down her inner thigh onto the silken sheets beneath them. Her entrance remained slightly, visibly gaped, a testament to the incredible size it had just accommodated.
And Azula? Her head was hanging back like a puppet's. It was like there was no bone in her neck. Her head was just rolling from side to side. It almost seemed like she got fucked to death, but she was alive. The heat of life was unmistakable.
Toshiro tried rolling her head forward but it kept falling back. One hand had to keep her up while the other brushed a strand of damp hair from Azula's forehead. "Princess? Azula? Are you all right? I… I hope that wasn't… too much. You just seemed so… caught off-guard."
Azula was grinning feverishly, her eyes staring at the ceiling. "Cock… so much fuckin' cock… Toshiro's cock…"
The Eldest Fire Sage, his own voice slightly unsteady, cleared his throat. "The… the ceremony is complete. The record has been… shattered. The lineage is secure. You may now conclude with the ceremonial kiss."
Toshiro looked from the sage to his wife. He gently tried to lift her chin, to bring her lips to his. But Azula's head lolled to the side, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to his chest. She mumbled something incoherent about "thirteen inches" and "breeding," her eyes seeing nothing.
A moment of awkward silence hung in the cum-scented air. The Fire Sages exchanged glances.
"I-I suppose you have already kissed enough," the Eldest Fire Sage remarked.
The record was forty-seven. The consummation was undeniable, a spectacular, historic success. What more could they ask for?
The Eldest Fire Sage simply bowed his head. "We shall… give the Princess a moment to recover. The ceremony is concluded."
"N-neesshht time," Azula blabbered, "c-ccum on my tiiits…!"
***
The heavy, ornate doors to the Fire Lord's private chamber within the High Temple swung open. He did not stay in this office often. After all, conflicts between the Fire Sages and the Fire Lord had been a common thing in the past. Really, the office was more of a meeting place.
The four senior Fire Sages filed in, their steps measured and solemn. They found Lord Ozai standing before a massive bas-relief of a coiled dragon, his back to them, the flames in the braziers casting his immense shadow across the room.
The Fire Lord did not turn. "The ceremony is concluded?" Lord Ozai sounded and was like distant volcanic activity. They had to be careful with their words.
The Lead Sage bowed deeply. "It is concluded, Fire Lord Ozai. We come to offer our most… enthusiastic congratulations. The royal lineage is unequivocally secure. The seed has been planted in fertile ground." The old man's voice wavered slightly on the last word.
Lord Ozai finally turned, his sharp eyes sweeping over the group. They lingered on the Eldest Fire Sage, who stood calmly, then flicked back to the Sages. His gaze was calculating, missing nothing: the slight tremble in the Sages' hands, the sheen of sweat on one's brow, the absolute absence of his daughter.
"Where is my daughter?" Ozai asked, his tone deceptively even. "And her husband? I have yet to meet him. I trusted your judgement. I put my trust in you, my elders."
"Yes, of course." The Lead Fire Lord gestured to the door. "Toshiro, please come in."
Toshiro walked inside. Round glasses, black hair, and wearing the same red robes from the Bedding Ceremony. It had only been an hour since then. Toshiro gave a respectful bow. "She is resting, my Lord." His voice was a placid pool after the Fire Sages' nervous streams.
"You…are Toshiro."
"Father." Toshiro bowed. He was tall, albeit not as tall as himself. He was rather lithe and…unassuming. He looked pathetic in the Fire Lord's view.
"And why is Azula resting?"
"B-because…"
Lord Ozai's eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to let this go. Azula did not 'rest.' She regrouped, she planned, she conquered. Rest was for the weak. His eyes returned to the Eldest Fire Sage, a silent, more demanding question hanging in the air.
The Fire Sage swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. He chose the traditional path. "They say the longer the night, the greater the flames of passion and love—"
"Spare me the proverbs," Lord Ozai interrupted, his voice cracking like a whip. "What are you not telling me?"
The chamber fell silent. The only sound was the hiss and pop of the sacred flames. Toshiro seemed uncomfortable. What was he supposed to tell his new father-in-law? The four Sages seemed to shrink into their robes. The Eldest Fire Sage looked at the floor, then at his colleagues, finding no help there. He took a shaky breath.
"Forty-seven, my Lord."
"Pardon me?"
"The blue candles, as I am sure you know—"
Lord Ozai's head did a double-take. Because he knew what it meant.
"Impossible."
"It…is what happened," the Eldest Fire Sage said carefully. "Princess Azula 'finished' forty-seven times."
The number hung in this tense atmosphere of the Fire Nation's most powerful. Lord Ozai's stern composure fractured for a single, unguarded moment. His eyebrows rose. A flicker of pure, unadulterated shock passed over his features before his mask of impassivity slammed back down. His gaze snapped to Toshiro, and for the first time, he truly looked at the man. Not as a noble, not as a political tool, but as a man. He saw the broad shoulders, the calm strength in his posture, the gentle eyes that held no arrogance, only a quiet sense of duty.
Seven was the record. Seven was a number spoken of in legends. It was set by the younger half-brother of Fire Soryu, Chaejin. Forty-seven was not a number. It was an annihilation.
Lord Ozai's mind raced. This… commoner… from a middling family from Ember Island chosen on a bureaucratic whim… had not just bedded his formidable daughter. He had dismantled her. He had rewritten history in a single, explosive night. The fact that she wasn't here was proof enough. On an occasion like this, full of history and tradition, she would be beaming at him, expecting praise for her performance.
But she wasn't here. And in battle, neither this young man nor the Fire Sages could defeat her.
This was Lord Ozai's new son. How…strange. A strange, cold curiosity ignited within him.
"You." Lord Ozai's command was aimed solely at Toshiro. "You will accompany me."
Without another word to the visibly relieved Sages, Lord Ozai turned and strode out from the chamber. Toshiro, after a nervous look and a nod from the holy men, followed.
They walked in silence through the corridors of the temple, descending to the natural hot springs that burbled deep within the volcanic rock. "This hot spring is only for royal family usage," Lord Ozai said. "I wished for you and Azula to be here with me. Ah well."
There was no change room, there was only the hot spring. Everything was thick with steam and the pungent, mineral scent of sulfur. Lord Ozai dismissed the guards already inside with a sharp gesture, leaving the two men alone in the cavernous, echoing chamber.
"We are family now," Ozai stated, his back still to Toshiro as he began to untie the sash of his royal robes. "It is prudent that you understand your place and that we understand one another." The words were practiced, a lord performing a duty. The curiosity burning in him was anything but. "Your job is to produce heirs and to satisfy Azula. I heard that every descendent of your family produces Fire Benders, with no failed exceptions. All of them are excellent soldiers to boot. Not quite at the top, but most certainly necessary for our nation."
Lord Ozai's robes fell away, pooling at his feet. He stood naked. It was a powerful, formidable figure muscled from a lifetime of combat and firebending discipline. He was, by any metric, a well-endowed man, his five inch cock resting limp against his thigh. It was a lord's spear, a weapon of pride and legacy. He turned, expecting to see a similar, perhaps lesser, form.
Toshiro was pulling his own simple red robes over his head. He hung them on a nearby hook with a quiet, mundane care that was utterly dissonant with what was being revealed.
Thwap!
"Yes, father."
When Toshiro walked, his cock flung and slapped back on his thigh. Lord Ozai's dick NEVER did something like that. Not even close.
The steam curled but it did nothing to obscure the truth. The truth between his ordinary thighs, the instrument of his daughter's destruction. It was soft, utterly at ease, and it dwarfed Ozai's own manhood. Ten inches of thick, heavy flesh, a monstrous promise of what was to come when aroused. Below it hung a sac of truly breathtaking proportions, two large, full orbs that looked capable of holding a reservoir of seed—a reservoir that had, mere hours ago, been pumped relentlessly into Azula.
Lord Ozai could only stare, his mind struggling to reconcile the gentle, almost ordinary man with the obscene biological reality before him. The stories of Azula's invincibility—no fucking wonder! They were nothing in the face of this. This was not a matter of skill or strategy. This was something only men could understand.
The Sages might say it was a blessing. Fuck, it might be, the Fire Lord thought to himself. He felt humiliated. He was taller. He was more important. He was SUPPOSED to be superior, the most superior male in the whole nation. He could take what he wanted, whether it was riches or a man's wife. It did not matter. The Fire Lord exerted supreme authority. The Fire Lord was the supreme male.
Thwap, thwap!
Lord Ozai's eyes travelled from the staggering manmeat back up to Toshiro's face, which held a look of mild, polite inquiry, as if waiting for instructions. They had yet to drip into the waters.
The hot spring itself wasn't too massive. Realistically, it was intended for a small group of four or five. Throughout history, it was exclusively used by the Fire Lord, their spouse, and their children from time to time. It was a common saying that the hot water was full of a spiritual energy that enhanced Fire Bending.
'To think…' Lord Ozai thought, the world tilting on its axis. 'How big would that thing be at full mast? Me own hardly eclipses seven inches. This man…even flaccid, he dwarfs me…!'
He could incinerate this youth with a gesture. Yet…he couldn't. Not anymore. Now that he had taken his daughter's flower, the wedding had to be followed. The marriage had to be finished. Here in the Fire Nations, a coupling was done in a different order than in other cultures. There was an engagement, sex, and then the wedding, all so that compatibility could be understood beforehand.
For the second born of the main royal family, the sex had to be demonstrated through the Bedding Ceremony. It was merely a continuation of the culture already placed.
'To think my daughter took… all of that…!'
"The water is hottest near the vent," Lord Ozai said, his voice betraying none of the tectonic shift occurring in his understanding of power, legacy, and his own daughter. He gestured for Toshiro to enter first, his eyes unable to look away from the casual, effortless dominance that simply was.
Toshiro did as he was told, bowing and uttering, "Thank you."
He sat down. He relaxed. The Fire Lord followed afterward. It was a long, long silence. The water was not transparent, but because of the sheer weight, Toshiro's cock floated. And he didn't do anything to hide it. Not intentionally, but because this was his first time here.
"Mmm…."
The first time had the same effect on everyone. The water was truly pure and enhancing in ways other hot springs were not. There was no official name for this hot spring, for the Fire Lords of the past feared it would attract unwanton attention. It was merely a location passed down through oral tradition. Never recorded, so that no one could exploit it for a potential assassination.
It was up to the Fire Lord to speak. What the hell was he supposed to say? It was like he totally forgot after seeing that megadick.
This was his new son. His son-in-law, oh sure, which in Fire Nation culture was pretty much equivalent to a biological son. For his own son to surpass so much…!
No. No. It couldn't be. Maybe…maybe he was just seeing things. Maybe their dongs were the same and it was merely a matter of perspective.
Yes, that had to be it. Noren, his wife's former lover, he was NOTHING compared to him. Yes, that was what she told him. She insisted on it whenever he asked. Lord Ozai was bigger and bigger. A hung stud of a man. That was the truth.
Lord Ozai began with newfound arrogance. "You and I have been blessed."
Nope, just Toshiro.
"Hung like horses. Like the spirits themselves would be envious of."
Really, Toshiro could lose an Ozin's worth of dick and still have plenty left to fuck Azula with.
"We have a destiny we must secure. For men like us, I know there is an understanding of our superiority. It is not merely about Fire Bending. It is not merely about wealth. It is an intrinsic power within us that makes us who we are."
Toshiro nodded along, not paying attention in the slightest. 'Mmm, this water…! So warm…!'
The Fire Lord's speech took a whole hour to complete. By the end, he was smiling and satisfied that THIS youth had been picked to be his son-in-law. 'He listens well,' Lord Ozai thought. 'Far better than Zuko.'
All because he was hung like a horse. That was it. That was the only reason for acceptance from a lord whose standards were nearly impossible to meet otherwise.
This was how Toshiro officially became a member of the Fire Nation Royal Family.