The Prince's Pet Read online

  He exhaled softly and I heard the smile in his voice. “Oh yes. Very pleased.”

  I dared to kiss him then, somehow finding his lips in the darkness. He responded not with hunger but with surprising tenderness, gently returning the kiss while reaching out to stroke my face.

  Sleep took him first, and I lay there with his hand entwined in my hair and my leg caught between his. I could hear the wind rattling the balcony door and my master's deep regular breathing. All else was silent.

  It took me a while to identify what I was feeling. It was something familiar, though I hadn't felt it for a long while - even before the slavers had taken me away. And even then, not often.

  It was so ridiculous I almost laughed. I was enslaved – a pleasure slave with a master who tied and punished me. Who would one day rule and marry, and probably forget me or relegate me to the harem. Who was nonetheless kind in his own manner, and made me feel protected and cared for. The feeling was contentment. I was content.

  How amusing life was.

  Chapter 8

  The mood was relaxed between us the next morning. We slept in far later than was proper, and finally my prince had to run, late for his daily sword drills. I confessed I didn't want him to leave, playfully holding onto him as he tried to get out of the bed. With an indulgent smile, he told me he would have someone sent to take me for an outing.

  He thought for a moment and looked around, opening a drawer and snatching up a purse. He dropped it on the bed next to me as he kissed me. "Buy clothing," he said. "Books, if you find anything in your tongue. Something for your hair. Whatever you like."

  When he'd left I sat alone on the bed, the leather purse in my lap. I could tell by the weight there was more gold in it than I'd ever seen at one time. I suppressed a frown, feeling for a moment like a paid whore. Then I shook my head. No, I was not a whore. I was a slave. He was not obligated to give me anything, he was not paying for a service.

  I had expressed my love of reading and regret that I couldn't decipher the Cimbrai books in his library. I'd complained about wanting to look nice for him and having nothing to wear in my hair for the royal dinner. He'd done it to be nice, in his own way.

  Two guards dressed in full royal armor arrived to escort me. The prince had instructed them to take me to the city.

  I couldn't believe I was allowed to leave the palace. It felt good to be out walking. The day was hot, the sun already glaring overhead, but I was grateful to be outside.

  Atshye went with me, and the two guards followed discretely behind us. We were carried in a litter over the bridge and into the town and then we disembarked, saying we wished to walk.

  Atshye was excited and girlish, holding me by the arm as she led me, telling me about each place we passed. We made our way to the market - Atshye called it a 'bazaar' - in the noble quarter. Groups of richly dressed women stopped talking as we passed, peering at us over their veils. Of course, Atshye and I were unveiled.

  “Why do your women cover their faces?” I asked her, whispering behind a hand much as I'd seen the gossiping women do.

  She smiled. “It is tradition. For modesty. They cover the face and sometimes the hair, as it's considered an intimate thing to look on a noble lady's face – a thing saved for her husband and immediate family.”

  Of course, Atshye and I were slaves, so our faces were naked for all to see. And see they did – a bubble of silence followed us as we passed through, all eyes turning to look at us. It was disconcerting. I was very conscious of my foreign appearance, and the golden collar around my neck. I'd never veiled my face, but now I felt very exposed.

  They looked at Atshye, too. The queen's favored slave wore what seemed like all of her jewelry on her person – bangles stacked up her wrists, arm bands on her arms, and golden hoops in her ears and nose. She even had delicate rings on her toes and necklaces around her neck to accompany her collar. It was a wonder it didn't all weigh her down.

  I knew it was not a proper thing to wear your wealth like this – only a pleasure slave would do so. It was a very open declaration of her mistress's favor. Atshye held her head high and smiled, indifferent to the stares.

  We entered the bazaar, suddenly surrounded by a crowd of people, both men and women. Our guards stuck close, not hesitating to push away the people around us when necessary so we could walk through untouched.

  I'd never seen such a market. There must have been hundreds of stalls: rows and rows of stalls selling fabric with everything from plain linen to expensive embroidered silks. Veils, scarves, jewelry, cosmetics, shoes. Perfumes, soaps and spices. Candies, spices, fruit and huge spits of fresh meat ready to be carved and eaten right there.

  Unlike in the small country markets I'd frequented, there were no livestock or great quantities of farmer's produce for sale. This was the noble section, Atshye said. It was a slave's duty to purchase the food for a noble household, and that part was relegated to a neighboring street. So that the noble folk don't have to encounter the rabble, I thought. And indeed, when I looked around I saw there were few slaves or common folk around us, and guards blocking the ends of the road.

  The stall holders haggled more aggressively than I was accustomed to. It was a good test for my skills at their language - or lack thereof. Atshye had to translate for me on more than one occasion.

  I was searching for fabrics the seamstress could make into dresses for me, and here I was spoiled for choice. We both purchased bundles of fabric - and instructed their delivery to the palace - and hair ornaments. Atshye bought cosmetics and advised me on what I should get for myself. She bought a beautiful scarf. "For the queen," she said. "I always get her something." I wondered if I should do the same for my master.

  The merchant tried to make her a gift of it, knowing her as the queen's handmaiden. Atshye refused and paid the gold, promising to favor him with her business again.

  As we made our slow way back toward home, I peered through the crowd and the gaps between the low buildings. We crossed a narrow road and I could see the next street.

  The road was unpaved, and there huddled livestock and many vendors in plain, crowded tents. In contrast to the lively colorful bazaar we'd just left, unveiled women carried huge loads of goods balanced on their heads and hips. Naked children darted laughing between the crowds. Men pulled laden carts and slaves in their metal collars bartered with stallholders. It reminded me of home, and my mood sank.

  We rode in the litter back over the bridge, reclined on our soft cushions. I looked out through the tiny lattice window, watching the slaves that bore us. They were clothed only in loose trousers, and I could see that several of them bore the faded scars of a whip on their bare brown shoulders and backs.

  I stared down at my own hands, once so rough with perpetually dirty jagged nails. Now they were clean and soft from lotions and oils. They rested on the deep blue silk of my robe - a piece of clothing that was probably worth more than my father's farm.

  I couldn't stay melancholy for long under Atshye's girlish enthusiasm. We bathed in the harem, I shaved myself (blushing furiously while I explained the prince had instructed me to do so) and Atshye tried to teach me to braid my hair the way she did hers.

  We attracted a gaggle of younger girls - unmarried relatives of the King who resided at court for part of the year. They laughed as they played with my hair, taking great amusement in seeing their traditional styles on the foreign slave. I tried to show them some of the ways Thessian women arranged their hair, but I'd never been much good at things like that.

  The girls were pleasant company, and I was able to converse with them enough to have a good time. They painted my eyes with kohl and my nails with a pale pink color. I'd never seen such a thing done before, but I thought it was lovely. Looking in the mirror I felt almost as glamorous as Atshye - though she made it look far more effortless than I.

  The young women were all dancers, and they took turns tutoring me in the pleasure dance, practicing in giggling groups. They were all grac
eful and beautiful, and I despaired of ever matching their skill.

  Issander returned in the late afternoon while I practiced the newest dance moves over and over, alone in his chambers.

  Unexpectedly, my heart jumped when I saw him. I stopped what I was doing and met him at the door, flinging myself at him for an embrace.

  Astonished, he laughed and encircled me in his arms, lifting me off my feet briefly. Then he held me at arm's length and looked at me, taking in my hair and my painted eyes. A strange look came over him, and for a moment I worried.

  "Don't you like it, my Lord?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

  He blinked blankly at me, then smiled. "Oh yes. It's only that you look so different." He curled the end of my braid around a finger. "Did you have a good time?"

  I grinned. "Yes, Lord."

  As I removed his boots and took his weapon and armor I told him of the beautiful silks I'd had sent to the palace for the seamstress, and the sights I'd seen at the market. He listened indulgently.

  "And what did you do today?" I asked him. He looked disheveled and somewhat dirty, as he often was after a day out. I poured him a drink and passed it to him.

  "I went riding."

  "Horse riding?"

  He nodded, flopping heavily into the big chair by the fire.

  I knelt at his feet in front of his chair. "My family could never afford horses," I said, "but sometimes when I was a child I would ride my neighbor's ponies. I remember how much fun we had, riding down to the river and trotting through the fields."

  "Well," he said, "You should come riding with me. My horses are the best in the kingdom... or so they say." He gave a smug smile.

  I laughed. "I have not ridden for so many years my Lord. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to keep up with you." I laid my arms crossed on his lap, and rested my chin on top of them. He stroked my hair, and that warm feeling of contentment bloomed in my chest - the one that was growing so familiar.

  "Well," he said, "you have to start somewhere."

  Why was he being so nice to me? Sometimes he made it hard to remember I was just a slave. I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment just to enjoy the feeling of his hand on my hair. "My prince," I said quietly, "you should take someone else riding. A proper lady, who you can court and marry."

  I looked up at him and saw that he was staring at me with a furrowed brow. "I know the summer feast will be soon," I continued. "Noble families have started arriving. Many women will vie for your attention over the next few weeks."

  He stopped stroking my hair, taking his hand away and resting it on the arm of the chair. For a moment, I held my breath. I had offended him. Would he punish me now?

  "Should I now?" He asked archly, and I bit my lip waiting for a scolding, filled with an odd mix of dread and anticipation.

  "You are right." He said quietly. "Many young girls will pursue me. They will be urged on by their families, seeking a way to improve their station. My father will push me toward them in order to strengthen this alliance or that. Just like last year, and the year before that, and every year since I came of age."

  He leaned forward, putting a hand under my chin and making me sit up and look at him. His beautiful eyes burned into mine. Suddenly, I felt my own eyes start to sting and water. The look was too intimate. I wished I could glance away, but I didn't dare.

  "You are mine," he said, his voice low and his tone itself fiercely possessive. "And if I want to take you riding, I'll damned well take you riding."

  I let out a laugh that was half a sob. My lower lip quivered, and I wondered again what was wrong with me.

  Issander's eyes darkened then. I wondered what he was thinking. But I didn't have time to ask before he bent forward to kiss me.

  There was no planning ahead this time, no order to await him in the bedroom, leaving me to grow nervous with anticipation. No slow undressing. Our lips locked together and he took me in his arms and pulled me closer, up on my knees.

  My heart fluttered pleasantly as I wound my arms around his neck, our tongues playing together. I ran my fingers through his hair, and he let his hands roam my back.

  Of my own volition, I started to untie the laces on his shirt. He didn't mind, encouraging me by pulling the hem free of his trousers and raising it over his head. I pushed him back in his seat, caressing his chest and leaning over him, kneeling between his legs. I ran my palms up and down his chest, savoring his warmth.

  I was hungry for him. It had been only a day but it felt like too long since I'd felt his touch, his bare skin on mine. My body had responded at the first touch of his lips, and now I could feel the heat and wetness in my sex, the hardness of my nipples pressing against the silken fabric of my robe.

  When I started to fumble with the belt of his trousers, he stopped my hands, cocking his head at me.

  "What's this?" He asked.

  I paused, biting my lip. "I'm sorry, my Lord, if I was being too forward." My face turned instantly hot and I lowered my gaze.

  He seemed to consider for a moment, until I looked up at him and saw the glint of humor in his eyes. "Do not be sorry, my pet. Only tell me what it is you want. It pleases me to hear it."

  I stammered. "I... I only wanted to give you pleasure. I wanted... to do for you what you did for me."

  He took his hands off mine, leaving me free to move. Beneath my hands, I could feel him growing hard, beginning to strain against the linen.

  His member soon sprung free. Up close, I marveled at its size and perfect shape. I slowly curled my fingers around it, stroking the silky skin. Looking up at my prince, I could see him watching me, his full lips slightly parted. He sat regally, reclined back in his chair with his arms resting casually.

  I looked back at my prize, and bent my head to lick it, taking an experimental taste. He smelled warm, musky and male, but he tasted only of clean skin. When I licked the length of his shaft, trailing my tongue over the swollen head, I found a drop of moisture there, sweet and salty at once.

  Issander made a soft sigh, and I looked into his eyes as I began to lap at him with my tongue. I watched for the signs of pleasure, taking note of the places that were especially sensitive; of the way he reacted when I circled here or sucked lightly there.

  Finally, I took him in my mouth, guiding him with my hand as my wet lips enclosed him. And as I watched his face, his eyes closed.

  I began to suck and lick, alternating my speed, taking him as deep as I could, almost to the back of my throat. He began to make little moans, which sent quivers of arousal through me in turn. I loved the way he looked right then, his hands tightening on the arms of his chair, head rolled back and mouth softly open.

  Soon, he moved his hand, bringing it up and winding my braid around his fingers. He held it firmly, close to my head, so that he could control my speed and actions. It didn't hurt, and I didn't mind. It thrilled me that I could fill him with such urgent desire. I may be his slave, I thought, but I still have some power.

  His hips were moving slightly and he pushed down on my head, thrusting his cock deeper into my mouth. All I could do was relax, closing my mouth around him and licking him where I knew he liked it. I moaned, noticing the vibrations it caused around his flesh, and he groaned in answer.

  A moment later, his movements grew erratic. He stiffened, his hips and hand stilling, and I felt him throb in my mouth. I eagerly teased him with my tongue while he held me in place, and he threw his head back and issued a primal noise of bliss as his hot seed jetted into my throat.

  I had to swallow quickly, and then again. It didn't have much taste, but I very much liked the sensation as he pulsed and spurt in my mouth. He gave another little groan and his hand released my hair. I took this as a signal and moved my mouth from him, looking up at him as I slowly licked his member clean from base to tip. He shivered.

  I was so very aroused - hot and wet between the legs, my nipples aching, and I wanted so badly for him to touch me. When Issander finally opened his eyes and looked at me, kneel
ing between his legs, he must have seen the desire plain on my face.

  He smiled, leaning forward to cup my chin. He was breathing heavily, and his mouth was hot on my ear as he kissed me there. "That was lovely." He said.

  I smiled, nuzzling against the side of his face. "My lord," I breathed. "Please." It was all I could manage to say.

  He stroked a hand down over my chest and cupped my breast, thumb roughly caressing my hard nipple. "Mmm," he said, a sound of approval. "My eager girl. Are you now ready for me then?"

  My lips parted and I breathed a sigh as he pinched my nipple firmly between his fingers. Yes. I was about to answer him. Yes, take me, please my Lord.

  "Stand up," he instructed in a beautiful low whisper. "Undress for me. I want to see you."

  I did as he said, rising on shaking feet and turning toward him. I was wearing only a thin robe, which I slowly pushed off one shoulder then the other. I had come to enjoy being watched by him. I liked the obvious delight he took in my body, the arousal I caused and his own body's reaction.

  I moved slowly, letting him savor the sight. Before his eyes I untied the belt, and let the robe slip down my arms to the floor. He watched me the whole time, smiling calmly. He was definitely back in control.

  When I stood naked before him, Issander reached his hand out to me. "Come here."

  I took his hand and he pulled me close and bade me sit on his lap. He stroked my face and kissed me, until I was even more aflame with desire. I clutched at his shoulders and kissed his neck, nibbling and sucking on his skin.

  He took my hand from his shoulder, and placed it in my lap. He parted my legs, revealing my bare, wet sex and putting my fingers there. "I want to watch you, now." He murmured.

  I blushed furiously, but didn't need much encouragement. Slowly - for his benefit at first - I stroked the length of my sex. I was almost dripping wet, my flesh sensitive. I began to circle and rub my pearl.

  His strong arms held me steady as I pleasured myself, forgetting about the performance and getting lost in the pleasure. I writhed and moaned as my fingers worked, and he kissed my neck, my ear, my shoulder, bringing me to higher passion.