The Prince and His Sex Slave

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Thoughts about him caused the familiar tingling sensation all over my body. I went into my bedroom and plopped on my bed. My body was aching with need like I had never known before. I rubbed my happy button thinking about his erection. He told me I turned him on. That got my juices flowing. I rubbed harder and faster, imagining his tongue running over it.


Ugh! My mother was looking for me.

“I’m here!”

I got up and ran to see what she wanted.

“It’s almost dinnertime for the royals. Why aren’t you in the kitchen?”

I told the head chef how passionate I felt about cooking, and she allowed me to watch her cook and help her out with preparing sauces sometimes. But most other responsibilities that she gave me were useless to me. Take coffee to the Prince’s bedroom, serve dinner, and wait at the dining table, blah blah blah that I didn’t care about. It paid me good money, though.

Ian never noticed me before and so it wasn’t a problem standing at the dining table and while the rich folks pretended I didn’t exist. But today was going to be different. He just ate me less than an hour back. And it will be awkward standing near him. I hoped I didn’t have to. It’s his spoiled sisters and the vixen girlfriend of his who needed everything passed to them and served most of the time. I will just stand close to one of them.

And so I stood next to Jenna, his feather-bedded girlfriend who treated everyone like vermin unless they were wealthy. She moans like a whore when Ian fucks her. I hated her more for that reason. Lucky bitch could probably kiss him whenever she wanted, touch him however she wanted.

“Can’t you hear me?” She snapped her fingers at me.

“Sorry.” I stood in an attention position, waiting for her to repeat what she wanted.

“Pass that stew over.”


I slightly bent over towards Ian to reach for it and once I picked the pot, Ian ran his fingers across my waist where the skin was exposed. It caused sparks to shoot up all over my body and I spilled the hot stew. And guess where it fell? Most of it on the table but a few drops on his girlfriend. She usually finds excuses to yell at people.

“You bitch! You ruined my dress.”

She took off her housecoat and frilled neckband and threw them at my face.

“Get them cleaned well!”

The head servant responsible for dinner arrangements, Nancy, came running to apologize to everyone. Jenna rolled her eyes. Nancy chided me for my clumsiness and told me to go back into the kitchen.

I looked at Ian, hoping to see that he touched me by accident while reaching over for something. But no! Of course, he did it purposefully. He was smirking, enjoying the drama.

This accidentally deliberate grazing and bothering happened two more times. I was afraid to yell at him the second time he did something like this the very next day. I was told to serve drinks to all the warriors at training. I took twenty-two drinks on a tray at once, hoping not to drop them and cause an embarrassing scene.

A few men, the non-royals, always flirted with me but did nothing more than that because they know courtesans are off-limits to them unless the royalty allowed them to, occasionally. Although they were high-ranking warriors in the army, they were mostly common people like me but were trained to excel. The lack of royal blood in their veins deprived them of the courtesan privilege.

Ian waited for the men to clear out and approached me. Until last week, I thoroughly enjoyed seeing his hot and sweaty body come near me to grab a drink after training. Except that he never noticed me before. I retraced my steps when he walked toward me, his gaze never drifting from me. I was standing on the stairs, two steps above him. He was still taller than me, but I didn’t feel as short.

There were three cups of water and a glass of juice left on the tray when he pinched the skin near my belly button and I almost dropped the tray. He caught it by placing his hand under the tray, his eyes never leaving mine. I expected him to mock me or say something ridiculous, but he didn’t. He just smirked before grabbing a drink and leaving.

The third time he messed with me turned into a disaster. Several guests arrived at the palace to collect some paintings for an upcoming art auctioning for charity. Elaborate dinner and pre-dinner arrangements were made. Some song and dance programs were happening near the garden area and everyone was seated in rows and round tables watching and socializing. I was told to present some keepsakes, which were homemade wrapped candy and random paraphernalia, to the guests.

Ian was seated in a row with some other men on either side. I walked between the rows to hand them items. I skipped him because he obviously doesn’t need a keepsake; it was his party. He stopped me by putting his leg in my way, which I didn’t see until it was too late. He caught me into his arms and pulled me to his lap as I was about to fall, and the items in the tray and the tray went flying.

Not only did I create a mess and embarrass the hosts, but I fell into his arms, and his mother and the head servant of the house did not take it lightly. I had to hear a lot of nasty words about how I threw myself at the most eligible bachelor and whatnot.

I couldn’t dare to throw an accusatory look at Ian because most of his family members were staring at me. They taught me to always accept fault, even if one of the royals deliberately caused trouble. It was etiquette 101 for poor people who lived on the palace grounds. This public bashing almost made me cry.

I waited for the party to get over so that I could confront Ian and ask him to fucking stop making my life miserable. It felt like he was punishing me for disobeying him. I was coming across as an incompetent klutz, and oh, after tonight probably a sleazy scheming gold digger too.

I stopped him from going upstairs and confronted him.

“You think too much about yourself, Nadia. Do you think people take time to look at you and form an opinion about you? No one knows you exist. They just know you as ‘some servant girl’. They won’t know even if you told them it was you who fucked up every day in a row.”

I pushed him angrily and said, “I didn’t fuck up! You made me look like I did.”

“You look really cute when you get mad. But that doesn’t mean that I allow you to talk to me in that tone.”

He scooped me up and threw me over his shoulder to carry me upstairs.

“Put me down! I am sorry I forgot!”

“I warned you.”

“I am sorry, please. It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, after I punish you, it won’t happen again, obviously.”

I punched him in the back and whacked him on the shoulders, asking him to put me down.

“If you don’t stop, I will make you pay for every blow.” He said in a warning tone.

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