The Prince's Pet Read online

  I was very soon near my peak. I was gasping and panting, and reaching - wanting that release so badly. I would have just continued, but suddenly my prince took my hand, pulling it away. I stared up at him plaintively, and he chuckled.

  "You do not come without my permission." He said. "Not ever."

  Hitching in a breath, I nodded. He kissed me, and I whimpered.

  Issander pulled me close then, lifting me up. I yelped in surprise as he positioned me so that I was straddling him. All of a sudden I could feel the length of his hard member laying right along my sex, pressing against me thick and hard and ready again.

  I sucked on my lower lip as I rubbed myself against it. It felt so good, sliding my wetness over him, grinding my hips hard against his. I could have climaxed right then... had I permission.

  My master held me fast then, one hand either side of my face, and looked into my eyes. "Now... what do you want?" He whispered hotly.

  I writhed on top of him, pressing close, but he held me fast and I was forced to look at him. I had no way to hide my desire, my need for him.

  "I want to please you, my prince," I answered.

  He smiled, and moved underneath me, causing me to whimper in pleasure and delicious torment. "Oh, you do please me," he said. "But I asked what you want. I would hear you say it."

  "I want you." I said.

  He stroked my cheeks with his thumbs, a wicked smile spreading over his face. "Yes?"

  "Yes... I want you to take me." I half breathed, half sobbed with the intensity of it. "I want to feel you inside me. I want you to take me, and fill me, and... and I want to bring you pleasure, master."

  He took his hands off my face and kissed my lips hard. I opened my mouth eagerly, and hungrily sought his tongue as we pressed our bodies hard together. Then I felt his hands on my hips, and he lifted me, moved under me.

  I felt the tip of his member probing at my entrance and gasped as a thrill went through me. He was hard and throbbing, and wet with my fluids.

  He lowered me onto him, slowly at first. I felt the tip of him stretching and filling me. It felt impossibly large, and for a moment I wondered if it might split me in two. I knew it was supposed to hurt, the first time - but was he simply too big?

  I held my breath as he stilled for a moment, then he moved inside me. Pushing deeper. It was uncomfortable, but also thrilling.

  And then, he thrust firmly as he pulled my hips down on him, hilting himself deep in me.

  I cried out as I felt the brief, tearing pain, but he held me close without moving, and it soon faded to a dull ache. He didn't wait long before beginning to move me over him again, manipulating me easily with his strong arms.

  And as I saw the pleasure on his handsome features - his soft sighing breaths, his eyes briefly closed in bliss - I smiled, bending to kiss him, and rocking my hips against his.

  He moaned into my mouth, sending another shock of arousal through me. And suddenly, I was aflame once more. I began to move of my own accord, raising and lowering myself on his hard shaft, enjoying the friction of it. Grinding my hips against him, feeling flesh on flesh.

  He held onto my hips, his fingers digging in hard, but I barely felt it. I bucked on top of him and he thrust hard into me, both of us crashing together faster and more urgently.

  All too soon I gasped, squeezing my thighs tightly. "My Lord..." I managed to say. "I - please, I need to..."

  He made a soft growling sound, pulling me to him and biting my ear. "Mmm... Yes?"

  "Please let me... oh, let me come my Lord, I beg you!" I fought to hold off, clutching him tightly. He was relentless, slowing down a only little, still firmly pumping into me. I felt every inch of his throbbing member as he moved in and out.

  His breathing was ragged and hitching, now, and I knew that he too must be close. Why was his control so much better than mine?

  He was silent for a long moment, moving deliciously inside me. I groaned, hiding my face against his neck. Delighting in the pleasure, and yes, even the torment of it.

  "That's it, my girl," he said finally. "Come for me now."

  With a cry of sheer joy I let myself go, feeling my whole body tighten and quiver as a torrent of pleasure crashed over me. I shuddered and gasped in his hands. I felt myself tighten around his thrusting member as smaller peaks of pleasure continued to course through me.

  Issander tensed, his moans combining with mine, and I felt him throb inside me. His hot seed spurted as my clenching inner walls milked it from him. He thrust haltingly once, twice, then was still.

  We held each other tightly, both struggling to breathe. I could feel a film of sweat between us, his member still twitching inside me, and the muscles of his legs shaking. I was aching inside, but it was nothing to the pleasure I felt. I never wanted to move.

  Chapter 9

  In the morning I went with my prince to watch him at Kai La. It was nothing like I'd imagined. A large group of men were gathered - soldiers and other palace inhabitants. I was surprised to see Ellys among them, dressed in his usual robes and carrying a long narrow sword.

  The men stood in organized ranks and performed a routine I couldn't decipher. It was made up of graceful movements of their swords and bodies, almost resembling a dance.

  They seemed to have no leader instructing them, each knowing the next movement and moving in complete unison with the group.

  I watched Issander move through the motions, each flourish seemingly as natural to him as breathing.

  Gods, he was beautiful. I found myself smiling, leaning on a pillar well away from the action and out of sight. I watched him. His face was solemn and serene - he was completely absorbed in the routine.

  After that, we went riding.

  The horses were beautiful - graceful, long legged beasts. I asked to ride behind Issander, not confident of my ability to handle a horse of my own, but he denied me. He led me to a little brown filly, promising she was the most docile of beasts.

  I needn't have worried. We started slowly and the filly was indeed very calm. There was a huge swath of land behind the main palace grounds, and we were soon away from grooms, groundsmen, soldiers and slaves and all on our own in the great empty field.

  The ground was covered in pale grass and low shrubbery, sandy and dry like most of what I'd seen of Cimbra. It was nothing at all like the green farmland of home. But the sun was warm and the air was sweet, and I was happy.

  We found a patch of greener land smattered with a few scrawny trees, and sat to eat the lunch I had organized. We made love under a tree, and this time it was lazy and sweet and unhurried.

  Afterward, he presented me with a golden arm band inlaid with beautiful opaque green gemstones. I didn't know when or where he had gotten it, but it was the most valuable thing I'd ever owned. I embraced him as though I were his lover, not his slave, and he was kind enough not to remind me of what I really was.

  In the days and weeks that followed, life settled into a relative routine. I attended the temple, practiced the Cimbrai language and even learned to read and write some of their letters.

  Atshye instructed me in Iele's arts, demonstrating on the willing young priest Leander, much to my continual embarrassment.

  I refused to practice on Leander as she did - for I knew my prince would not approve. I was his, he said, and his only. But through Atshye's demonstrations I learned many things.

  I learned different ways to stimulate a man's body. They taught me about pain and the ways it could be used to heighten pleasure. The things I could do with my mouth to pleasure my master. I learned the art of massage - both erotic and healing. And on, and on.

  We moved our dance practice to the harem where the young women were more than happy to join us. I enjoyed their company - they were always bright and cheerful. Many of them hoped to attract husbands at the upcoming feasts, and were filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. With that, I could sympathize.

  The seamstresses came and measured me and started producing
beautiful dresses. I liked wearing the Thessian styles in the Cimbrai fabrics, but Issander liked the less modest fashions in translucent silks, so I wore those when we were alone or when he wanted me on display.

  The king was well for a time and we dined with him every night. The king's relatives, here for the feasts, joined us often. Indari took to bringing Atshye to wait on her - which surprisingly enough, made things more comfortable.

  Issander tried to make an effort to get along with the queen, for his father's sake. And with more people to act as a buffer between them, the dinners became lively laughter-filled affairs.

  We made a habit of keeping the king company for a while after the evening meal, when everyone else had left. Issander always brought me with him.

  The king enjoyed my company, he said, but really I thought the old man just liked looking at me. Perhaps I made him nostalgic. I didn't mind - I liked him. He was always kind and had a strange dry sense of humor.

  Alone in his chambers, my master taught me new ways to please him, and learned the best ways to tease me to distraction.

  Our nights were occupied in each others arms. When my master came home stressed from the events of the day I would undress him and soothe him with my growing expertise in the "arts of Iele".

  On some nights I would pleasure him, and then he would leave me wanting. He enjoyed, he said, the way I pleaded, and the way it made me so pliable.

  I didn't mind being tied up or spanked or even whipped a little, once I was in that state. I'd learned that it was always incredible when he finally did let me have my release, and the pain only served to drive me to new heights of pleasure.

  It was at these times I thought I felt the touch of the goddess of desire, and if I cried out to her in the throes of my passion, Issander never mentioned it.

  He gave me freedom within the palace grounds, allowing me to walk in the garden so long as I had a companion or a guard with me. I took Atshye when she was free, or another girl. I was always glad of their company, and it was nice to be away from the eyes of men for a little while.

  Issander converted his small closet-room into a space for me, filling it with soft cushions and draping the walls with beautiful tapestries. I kept my few possessions there, and I would retreat there when my prince was away, reading from my small but growing book collection, working on the needlework techniques the girls taught me, or napping on my cushions.

  The summer feasts began - seven days of great elaborate events, with nobles from all over the kingdom as well as neighboring royalty coming and going.

  Issander's days were occupied with hunting and visiting with old friends, strengthening alliances and familiarizing himself with the influential people of the realm.

  I was left to my own devices more than I liked. I tried to keep busy, but I missed spending time with him during the days. I missed riding out with him, watching his exercises, eating luncheon with him on the balcony in the sun. But we still had the nights together.

  In the evenings, the royal family feasted.

  At first I did not serve at table, the feasts being an important formal affair.

  But it appeared I'd become somewhat well-known. The harem girls had told their families about Prince Issander's foreign pet. One night my master told me, sighing, that many of the noble men were continuously begging him to bring me.

  The last thing I wanted to do was go. I didn't want to be on display to so many strangers. I didn't want to see the young princesses and noble women flirting with him, looking at the handsome heir to the throne and whispering behind their veils. I didn't want to have to watch him talking to them.

  I didn't want to be there when he finally found the woman who would capture his attention.

  I begged him, but the more I begged the more determined he became. "Eveline," he said, cupping my chin the way he often did, "what is wrong with you?" I normally enjoyed waiting on him and the king at table, and had never begged so insistently to be left alone.

  I shook my head, unable to answer. I didn't really know how to articulate my misgivings. So he set his mouth in a hard line and told me I would go.

  Later, I thought, he would punish me for refusing to answer his question. Perhaps he would tie me and lash me until it all came spilling out. I almost wished for it. The thought made me shiver, both in dread and arousal - and it would be easier to tell him if he were to compel me.

  But for now, I had to go.

  The one concession he made was that I could ask Atshye to come too. If I had to dance for the crowd, I would do it with her by my side. The queen's slave only had to ask her mistress and she usually got what she wanted. So we both entered the hall behind our respective owners.

  This was the Great Hall, to which I had never been. There were hundreds of people seated there – nobles, officials, diplomats, advisers, royalty and of course the king's family.

  The tables were set with gold and silver plates and goblets, and overflowing vessels of fruit and flowers. Musicians continually played from a dais, and silver collared slaves rushed about constantly, carrying trays and glasses. The whole room was lit brightly by innumerable candles and lanterns. I had never seen such a display of wealth.

  The king himself toasted the visitors, but retired quickly after, having little energy. His place at the head of the great table remained open, Prince Issander seated at the right.

  Five young, royally dressed men sat opposite my master. Atshye pointed them out to me as we stood, waiting for the servants to hand us our jugs of wine.

  They were the Ilyat-dana – which translated to “great princes” – though they were technically not princes but the scions of the wealthiest and most loyal families of the kingdom. Three of them had wives who sat with them. The other two, Atshye said, were likely to find brides here at the palace.

  On the right side of the table, next to my prince, sat several veiled young women. They were with their fathers, or in some cases their mothers. Some of them were younger than me, and all pretty and exotic. How do they eat when their faces are covered? I wondered. As I watched I saw that in truth they ate very little – only occasionally reaching one hand under their veils to place a morsel in their mouths.

  The girls closest to the prince took every opportunity to lean forward and speak to him, giggling and looking at him with big eyes. He smiled and nodded and made conversation, every bit the gracious prince. I tried not to look.

  I came forward to fill Issander's cup when the wine was brought out. He was talking animatedly with the young men, and while I poured they all fell silent to watch me.

  “This is the one we've heard about?” One asked – a flamboyant young man in a deep yellow tunic.

  I gave no sign I understood, continuing my duties and moving to leave, but Issander stopped me with a hand on my wrist, and gave me a brief reassuring smile.

  It was enough to sustain me as they all looked at me, admiring my master's taste and expressing their desire to find a Thessian girl of their own.

  Their wives looked on silently, glancing at me curiously but not letting their gaze linger over-long. The younger girls at the table talked among themselves, whispering behind their hands.

  I bowed deeply when finally allowed to leave the table, and held a hand over my abdomen as I rushed away. My stomach was tied up in knots and I felt queasy.

  Atshye looked at me, standing by the queen at the end of the table. Even from that distance I could see her look of concern. When she eventually found an excuse to cross the room, she pulled me aside.

  “I am sick,” I told her. “I have to leave.” The first two courses were over and the guests were circling now, standing in groups and making conversation. I could not stand to watch my prince among all the beautiful young women who fought for his attention.

  Atshye pursed her lips at me with what might have been a knowing look, but she nodded. “Go. I will make your apologies.”

  I fled. I knew I ran the risk of being punished later, but right now I didn't care. Une
scorted, I half-ran back to Issander's rooms, and let myself in. I poured a huge drink of water and stood taking swallow after swallow.

  I ripped at my tight bodice, loosing the laces so that I could breathe. Only then did a few meager tears fall.

  What was I so upset about? I had spent the last weeks happy – actually happy – for the first time in many years. I was a slave, but my master was kind and looked after me. I had enough small freedoms and I had security. I enjoyed pleasing my prince, and he enjoyed pleasing me.

  My master was to take a wife – what of it? Some other woman – a free woman – would share his bed and his life. She would be his First. The one he had to please, the one he had to provide for.

  He would forget me, or she would be jealous and force him to leave me. Or I would spend my days in the harem, only seeing him once a month when his wife tired of him in her bed.

  “What else could I possibly expect?” I said aloud.

  I jumped, my hand flying to my chest when I heard the knock at the door. I swiftly wiped the back of my hand across my eyes, hoping I didn't smudge kohl all over my face, and cursing in Thessian.

  I grabbed a silken shawl from the back of a chair where I'd left it and wrapped it around myself to cover my open bodice. Just in time, for whoever was knocking did not wait but edged the door open and entered.

  It was a woman, alone. I stood up straight, clutching my shawl tighter around me. She turned, and I realized it was the queen. She wore green tonight, with a dark veil and a golden circlet on her head. Her hair, going to grey in places, was piled artfully on top of her head, emphasizing her long graceful neck.

  “Uh...” I said, ungracefully. “Your Majesty.”

  I bowed low, remembering my courtesies. Inside, my heart beat a pounding rhythm. What in the world would bring her here? And unescorted... this could not possibly be a good thing.

  When I looked up she was watching me, her eyes unreadable. At least she does not look about to devour me.