“Who do you think you are, that you fail to bow to me upon seeing me?” The venomous voice of the aristocrat was filled with anger.
“Forgive me, mistress. I did not see you in time due to the clothes on the drying ropes-“
Another slap landed on his cheek. “Excuses hold no weight with me. Where is the slave master in charge of this place!?” Her voice boomed with anger.
“Yes, mistress!” a distant voice responded. The sound of hurried footsteps grew closer, and the slave master knelt down. “I apologize for the disrespect, Mistress Sinai.”
Mistress Sinai? Wasn’t she the same woman with Lord Vladya the other day?
“Give him five lashes of the whip. Now!” she ordered.
What?! Emeriel’s heart pounded loudly in his chest. He dropped to his knees, his voice trembling. “F-forgive me, mistress. I have c-committed an offense against you, and I deserve to be punished. But please, show mercy-“
“Silence! Be grateful that I am not having you stripped and paraded!”
Emeriel had witnessed slaves being whipped before, and it was a sight one could never forget. The whips were sturdy and filled with thorns.
Panic gripped him. His mouth opened to plead further…
But in the end, he closed it soundlessly.
She would not listen to his pleas, would she?
Emeriel was all too familiar with aristocrats like her back in Navia. They thrived on the suffering of others, showing no mercy. He was a prince-a princess? Whatever-his pride was all he had left.
“Position your back, slave,” the slave master ordered.
Emeriel complied, raising his head to get a good look at Mistress Sinai. She appeared entirely satisfied, looking down her haughty nose at him as if he were dirt. Tremors coursed through his body as he positioned his back. He hadn’t fully settled into position when the first lash struck.
White-hot pain surged through him as he cried out, his body bending under the unbearable torture. Before he could fully absorb that excruciating pain, another lash followed. And another.
Emeriel screamed, overwhelmed, his back tearing under the thorns of the whip, blood trickling down.
After the third strike, he may have slipped into shock. The sounds around him faded, the impact of each lash jarring him. It was raw agony… as if his entire body had been submerged in boiling water.
When he regained some awareness of his surroundings, he found himself lying alone on the ground. A movement sent waves of pain rippling across his back and throughout his body. Tears streamed down his face as he struggled to get up. Through his blurred vision, he managed to make his way back to the citadel.
He stumbled up the stairs, but a feminine arm wrapped around him.
“What happened to you, Prince Emeriel? Who whipped you?” Amie’s figure appeared before him.
“Amie…” he sobbed, his lips parched.
“Say nothing. You do not need to explain. I’ll take you to Madam Livia!” she said, supporting him with her arms.
Relieved that he didn’t have to find his own way, he allowed Amie to escort him.
An hour later, the pain had somewhat subsided, thanks to whatever Madam Livia had given him. He lay on the bed, topless, while Amie hovered nearby and Madam Livia mixed some leaves in a bowl.
“You should do your best to avoid Mistress Sinai, Emeriel,” Madam Livia advised. “Do everything you can to avoid becoming her target.”
“I had no idea she had arrived, Madam, I swear. I greeted her as soon as I realized, but according to her, it was already too late.” Emeriel recalled the searing pain of the whip slicing into his back as Madam Livia applied herbs to his wounds and wrapped them in cloth. “It may sound absurd, but it felt as though she specifically targeted me. I have not done anything to incur her grudge or wrath.”
Madam Livia remained silent, but her mind was clearly at work.
“Here, drink this,” the woman eventually said, handing Emeriel a cup filled with a bitter concoction.
His face scrunched up, and he promptly returned the empty wooden cup.
“Get some rest. I know you must be tired. I will inform your slave master that you have been relieved of your duties for the rest of the day.”
Emeriel’s eyes widened with surprise. “Are you allowed to do that?” he asked in disbelief. Slaves being whipped was normal. He had never expected to receive any respite from his duties.
“Do not worry about it. Simply get some rest,” Madam Livia offered no further explanation.
Grateful for her kindness, Emeriel thanked her. With a sigh of relief, he allowed his head to rest on the pillow and closed his eyes.
A thought suddenly struck him, causing his eyes to snap open. “I have been meaning to ask you for something,” he hesitated, feeling his cheeks grow warm.
“Okay, what is it?”
“I need some of those pills that can prevent pregnancy.” Emeriel’s words rushed out in a flurry. “The beast… um… You remember what happened that night. I need to make sure I do not… um… conceive from it or anything.”
His request was met with shocked silence. The bedchamber was filled with uncomfortable stillness. Then, Madam Livia’s astonishment transformed into laughter-genuine and full-blown.
It was the first time Emeriel had ever heard the head maid laugh, and the crinkles around her eyes made her appear more beautiful and youthful. “What’s so funny?” Emeriel asked, perplexed.
“Oh, Emeriel. I apologize for the laughter,” Madam Livia finally spoke, trying to compose herself. “First of all, their beast form cannot impregnate a female. You need to take a knot in order to conceive, and they can only knot in their male or hybrid forms.”
“Moreover, Urekai rarely give birth.” The older woman wiped the tears from her eyes. “It is rather legendary how their species has fertility issues. Couples often take an average of twenty to forty years or more to have children. Many of them try for children for over a hundred years.”
Oh. Emeriel found the revelation… rather sad. It explained a lot.
Most of these men had lived for two thousand years, and yet they either had no children or only a few.
“So, my dear, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Plus, you were not even in full heat, and he ejaculated outside your womb. There is zero chance of you conceiving.” She paused, still amused. “However, if it makes you feel better, I will give you the pills after your first full heat sex. Is that okay?”
At this point, there was truly no need for the pills, but Emeriel nodded nonetheless. “Thank you, Madam Livia.”
A few minutes later, Emeriel was alone. And sleepy. The conversation about that night had triggered memories that stirred within him.
The sensation of the beast’s rough edges pinning him down, the cruel thrusts of his organ plunging in and out of his trembling channel as if the creature had every right to claim him. Take him. Own him.
Moisture pooled between his legs. His nipples stiffened, and his body warmed. Emeriel groaned, quickly squeezing his legs together.
What in the world is wrong with me? Why does my mind constantly dwell on a beast that caused me immense pain? Why am I so aroused?
It had been a week since Emeriel’s whipping when he was reassigned to the tavern again as a cellar slave.
He had done his best to avoid that place, even suggesting alternative work assignments when given the chance, but the slave master’s glare shut him up. He had no other option.
There was a weekend gathering at the tavern, and they needed extra help.
Although Emeriel was fortunate to be paired with Amie, she appeared just as dispirited as he was.
As Emeriel entered the inn with Amie trailing behind him, all eyes turned towards them. Urekai males occupied each table, some sipping ale, others engaged in card games.
Tankards of ale and goblets of wine were raised in toasts, while storytelling and minstrel music filled the air.
In the dimly lit corners, some Urekai males had their slaves pleasuring them, laughing boisterously amidst their conversations. The tavern was bustling tonight.
Every step drew more eyes upon them as they made their way toward the counter.
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