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My Slave, My Prince (Sirix & EvelynWillows)

E

EvelynWillows

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The first rays of sunlight was warm on the snow-covered meadows. Blue streaks of light radiated from the forest, and somewhere a covey of quail were disturbed and they burst into the sky like drops of water when a rock has been dropped into a silent pond.

The young princess looked across the meadow at her father. Short white puffs of heat formed outside their fur-lined coats as they nodded to each other. The deer that they had tracked through the night would have settled down by now; it might have bled out from the injury that it had suffered from her sister's hastily loosened arrow the previous day, but it might have also recovered enough to be a flight risk. It was impossible to tell; Marissa had been impudent and had shot from too far away. She was irritable when her father had sent her back to the castle with the guards.

Teresa felt a pang of sorrow for anyone who might cross her sister's path last night. Despite the fact that Marissa had been given all the benefits that being born to a king could afford, she was still an angry, selfish woman at heart. Maybe she was that way because of her upbringing, but her younger sister was too unlike her for that to be the obvious reason.

The king spotted a few dark drops of blood. He motioned for the trackers to take over, sending the young, quiet men after the deer seemed the best option in case the beast was still alive and ready to bolt. The last thing they wanted was for the deer to lose them again, and with the rapidly melting snow in the early spring they could lose the trail and then the meat would be wasted. "A wasteful man was a hungry man", King Thorean liked to say, and he lived up to that philosophy to the chagrin of his wife.

Back at the castle Queen Eliza was fussing over her eldest daughter's lack of 'appropriate' dresses like a worried hen. "I cannot believe that you only have these ten to choose from! How can anyone expect a proper princess to go into her courting year with ten measly dresses?"

Princess Marissa tossed her fiery thick hair and imitated her mother's impudent frown perfectly. "I agree, Mother Dear. We should send for the tailor immediately." She examined her fingers and saw that one of her manicured nails was marred from yesterday's hunt. "And the beautician," she amended, showing her mother the chip in her nails.

"Oh gods! Your father had you on the hunt again, didn't he? I've told him time and time again that the back of a horse is no place for you! You'll lose your virginity bouncing on those beasts! But does he ever listen to me? Of course not!" She looked around and frowned. "Where is that servant boy of yours? He needs to be here, tending to your needs and running for the tailor and the beautician! And bringing tea!" She clapped her hands. "Where is he?"

The princess smiled smugly. "Oh...I think I can find him." She said. "Don't worry, mother. He'll get his comeuppance for being away from his post."

Queen Eliza's smile reflected her daughter's. "You see that he does," she warned. "And make sure that tailor is here quickly. We don't want your father to catch wind of all his precious gold that we're spending. You'd think it was a crime to outfit a princess, the way he hoards such things."
 
Marcus was still standing by the door as his lady had told him to do. His frame was very thin but he was strong from all the work he had to do for the princesses and the work out Sir Knight Gremin helped him with on his free day every month. The knight was the only kind person towards the young boy and was training him to be a squire or page for his use as he tried to talk the King and Queen into releasing him into the Knights care, the King almost won over but the Queen still a stanch no.

Just now his muscles were beginning to cramp from standing for hours. He starts to bend his knees to try and relieve some of the pain but hearing foot steps coming down the hall he resumes his position with his posture perfect, waiting for the orders and the punishment for something he wasn't even told to do yet and was failing at his duty.
 
"There you are." Princess Marissa smiled at Marcus, her eyes glinting at the fact that he had stayed as she put him. It made her feel more powerful to bend him to her whim. Although he was her age and a young man in all rights, she still thought of him as 'that boy Marcus'. It didn't help his case any that the Queen's open hostility towards the servant was adopted by most others on the staff, and almost identically imitated by her eldest daughter.

"What are you doing boy?" She stepped in close to him, violating any personal space he might have hoped to maintain, and nearly touching him with her bodice. "You're not getting...tired...are you? Hungry perhaps? Hmm?" She sneered. Her hands caressed his face softly before smacking his cheek and leaving a red mark. Oh, she loved the way his eyes would sometimes flare when she hurt him, and she loved even more the way he kept himself still and obedient, as if he knew that he was unworthy of even breathing the same air she was in. "Go fetch the tailor and my beautician. Tell them both that I expect them to be here ready to work all day; bring their staff. Understand? And when you get back I want you to come inside with them and wait by the door on the inside so I don't have to come out here to find you."

Her hand trailed down his thin frame, feeling the hard layer of muscle that lined his chest. "You're not really a boy any longer are you?" Her eyes danced mischievously as her hand brushed the front of his pants. "Now GO. Run. I expect you back in ten minutes!"
 
Marcus was used to her stepping into his now non-existent personal space bubble. Expecting the hit and taking it in full force Marcus merely allows his head to move then moves his head back to the front, his eyes flare for only a moment before returning to the calm and cool they are normally. "No my Lady, as I'm sure you remember you allowed me to eat and sleep yesterday. My Lady shows such kindness to me," Marcus reminds Marissa.

He listens the to the instructions intently so not as to get anything wrong. "It will be done My Lady," Marcus says he waits for Marissa to allow him to leave. He finds it odd that she is touching him, something that she almost never does as she finds him repulsive and dirty most of the time. At the order to leave Marcus takes off to get the requested servicemen.

He comes back in 7 minutes with the tailor and beautician and their staffs in toe. He knocks on the door to the princesses room and announces the arrival of the requested servicemen.
 
When the servants were let into the door Marissa glared at Marcus. "You're late," she said, obviously not realizing that he was in fact, early. Perhaps it was just that she didn't care.

Queen Eliza smirked as she observed the tone her daughter was taking with the boy. She was beginning to see a resemblance in the young man to his father...a man the queen both loved and hated. She felt a surge of renewed anger at Marcus' father. Of course, no one knew who Marcus truly was. The men who the queen had charged to kidnap the child and fake his death so long ago were dead. Everyone thought that Marcus was an orphaned child of some slave who was graced with the life of a castle boy.

No one knew that he had royal blood in him.

"You should punish him properly once we are done here," Queen Eliza whispered to Princess Marissa. "Otherwise that slave boy will start to slack off, and then you'll have to have him flogged to straighten him out."

"Of course, Mama." The princess smiled at Marcus before turning to the tailor to be measured for her dresses.

A few hours later King Thorean and his entourage returned to the castle with the large buck. Princess Teresa had managed to track it after it had bolted again, the third time since it's initial injury the previous night. The men with the king took the beast to the kitchen to be dressed out.

"Good work," the king said to his younger daughter. "We'll make a son of you yet!"

Teresa laughed. It had been a long-standing joke between the two of them. "Don't worry, Father. With how quickly your eyesight and memory are fading you'll be believing that I'm your son in no time." Her eyes danced when she got a chuckle from a few of her father's knights. "If you'll excuse me, father, I need to make myself presentable." She leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you at supper."

She passed her sister's room on the way to her own and noticed that Marcus wasn't at his usual post. She could hear the laughter inside the room; obviously Marissa was doing something fun in there. Princess Teresa opened the door swiftly, hoping to catch her sister doing something unseemly. In fact, she was being measured by the tailor while the queen watched. All eyes turned to the door.

"What is it?" Queen Eliza asked, eying her younger daughter with disdain. The manly clothing and dirt were completely uncalled for on a princess. "Why are you dressed like a boy, Teresa? Do you think that smelling of sweat and dirt is the new fashion?"

Marissa chortled from her pedestal.

"No, mother. Forgive me." Teresa curtsied as best as she could in the pants. She needed something to cover her motives for barging in. Her eyes lit upon Marcus. "I need the boy."

Princess Marissa frowned. "I'm using him right now."

"No you're not. You've got all of them," she waved her hands at the tailor, his four assistants, and the two beauticians in the room. "I just need the one worthless slave to attend to me. Surely you can spare such as he for me?"

With a snarl the elder girl waved her off. "Take him. But I want him back tonight; he has some punishment coming for being tardy."

Teresa nodded and looked at Marcus. "Come on," she said, turning away and walking briskly to her own chambers. She was irritated and frustrated, and worse, she knew that she looked unkempt compared to her sister. That next week was to be a ball, a coming of age ball for her sister, actually. She was now twenty and ready to be courted by eligible men. Teresa was still considered a child at merely eighteen, and she felt like it compared to her regal-looking sister.

Marissa was elegant. She had thick, red hair and flashing green eyes. Her nose turned up at the end and her fingers were femininely tapered. Her waist was delicate, and her skin...well, it could only be described as angelic. Teresa, on the other hand, had flat brown hair and brown eyes. Her skin was more tanned from hours outside on the back of a horse. She was thicker than her sister; more sturdy and strong, certainly, but not as lithe as her sister. She also inherited her father's square shoulders and strong jawline.

Most people would describe her as handsome, whereas Marissa was....beautiful.
 
Glad to be getting taken away from the Queen and Marissa, Marcus follows a short distance behind Teresa as quiet as he can, almost no noise coming from his feet as he walks. Arriving in her room Marcus stands at complete attention yet again. "What do you need of me, Princess" he asks, knowing she prefers princess over My Lady to be called.

His strong but thin stature was tanned, like his native people of Genoea but he had been told it was because of all the time he spent outside assisting the princesses and King and Queen. His sandy blonde hair set to one side and his deep blue eyes rival the beauty of the sky and ocean on the horizon.
 
"I..." she looked around at her room. Her eyes finally rest upon the slave. With a decisive set to her jaw she walked over to the door and slid the bolt across, locking it to anyone who might try to come in. "I'm going to take a bath and get cleaned up," she said, looking over the servant she had practically grown up with. "Do me a favor and sweep the floor. Once you're done you can rest on the couch until I'm ready to be dressed."

She turned away and began to walk to the bathing corner. As she traveled she began to peel clothing and gear off her body, laying them over the wooden table nearby. There was no shame in stripping in front of Marcus; she had grown up thinking of him as not a person but as a tool. He was a servant. A slave. His entire reason to exist was to make life easier for his masters. If anything, Teresa thought of him as she might consider a well-trained and favored hunting dog or horse. He was...useful.
 
"As you wish Princess" Marcus moves toward the closet in her room and begins to sweep the room up, not much was on the floor since he had cleaned both rooms while the princesses had spent time with the King. He doesn't look at Teresa as she strips and steps into the bath, respecting her and not wanting to offend her at all.

Once done with sweeping he puts the broom back into the closet and grabs a towel for the princess, putting it on the chair next to the bath. "Which dress should i grab for you, Princess" Marcus asks wanting to have everything ready before he even thinks of resting, still a little on edge from the Queen and eldest princess presence.
 
Unlike Marcus, Princess Teresa had no qualms about looking at the other person in the room. She noted the way he was balanced on his feet, more like a warrior than a servant. It was interesting. She knew that there was a knight who had been spending time with the slave but she didn't think about what they might be doing during their time together. The thought intrigued her.

When he asked her what dress she wanted she sighed. "Oh I hate dresses," she slid under the water and blew bubbles before resurfacing. "I suppose you could get me that brown and red one," she finally decided. She waited for him to turn towards the closet before she loosed her hair and let it spread across the water. Sighing contentedly she rested her arms on the rim of the tub. Her pert breasts barely nudged the surface of the water, the peaks of her nipples piercing through into the cool air.

As she soaped her long legs she stole a glance at the slave. She had grown a lot in the last ten years, since the last time she and her sister had made Marcus go skinny-dipping in the castle pond with them. Teresa wondered how much Marcus had changed in that ten years. She'd never seen a grown man naked before...was Marcus grown as well? She laid her head back on the rim and sighed. It was all so very confusing; not simple like hunting or looking over land agreements. Why did anyone have to grow up, anyway? She turned her head to watch him in the main part of the room. As far as men went, he was rather pleasant to look at. He was always quiet, not boastful, always there to assist however he was needed.

She smiled to herself. He would have made a good wife, she thought, her lips curving into a secretive grin.
 
Hearing the request Marcus walked to the closet and got the most used but still best dress that Teresa had, brown was the main color with red accenting it, the chest area and folds of the dress were a deep maroon. He set the dress on the stand next to the bath, catching only a small but very tempting look at one of his mistresses, the water blurred her figure only a little.

After setting the dress on the stand he moved back to her clothes closet and retrieved the matching shoes for the dress, brown colored with in-set rubies for color and design. "Is that all you require for dressing, Princess" he asks standing at the bath but looking forward and not down at her still unclothed body.
 
Why do you never look at me? Wondered Teresa. She looked over Marcus' lean, tall form. An unfamiliar ache squeezed deep within her loins. Unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

"Yes Marcus. Go ahead and rest," she said with a soft sigh. She knew that her sister liked to keep him up late into the night entertaining her. How exactly he did that was anybody's guess. She washed her hair and soaked in the tub until the warm water turned too cool to be enjoyable this time of the year. Once it was done she pulled the drain and dried off before slipping into the dress and slippers. She preferred to leave herself unclothed underneath, though she knew that it was improper to be so naked under her dress. It was more comfortable.

As she moved about the room she tried not to disturb Marcus. He'd be working soon enough; she smiled fondly like one would watching a puppy at rest. There were still several hours left until the bells would ring for supper. Perhaps she could keep them both safely locked in her room until then.
 
"thank you princess" Marcus smiles and looks down at her for just a second, long enough for Teresa to see the smile but not long enough to make her feel he is looking at her. He moves away from the tub and sits on the couch. Slowly he falls asleep from 24 hours without any. He slept soundly until the princess woke him later to assist her in some way or to be excused back to the service of her elder sister, hoping for that to still be many hours away.
 
She spent some time updating her journal; writing about what went wrong and what went right, the number of deer and other game that they saw, and the general health of the King's forest. Once she was done she sat and watched Marcus sleeping for a while. He seemed completely exhausted.

On a whim Princess Teresa brought a chair next to the couch and sat there. She propped her feet up on the edge of the couch and began to sketch the slave as he slept. She reached out and softly brushed the hair out of his eyes so that she could see them better. She was tired too; she'd ridden for most of the night with her father and the hunters, and she was looking forward to going to sleep after supper. If she had her druthers she'd go to sleep now, but that wasn't to be the case.

Marcus looked so comfortable and warm on the couch that she had to smile. When they were young, very young, sometimes the trio would fall asleep in the gardens where they had been playing. It was a good memory. It was only when Marissa and Marcus turned ten that it seemed like the differences in who they were became pronounced. If Teresa remembered correctly, that was when Queen Eliza gave Marissa permission to beat the slave.

A sharp rap came on her door. "Teresa! I want my slave back! It's time for his punishment."

Teresa was startled from her daydream. She hastily set her sketch down and knelt by the slave to wake him. "One moment!" she called to her sister. "We're coming!"
 
Snapping awake at the rap Marcus comes and stands at attention from the couch, although a little dizzy for a moment. Oh no, I hope she doesn't find out Marcus adjusts his clothes to look like he wasn't sleeping. "Thank you for your kindness, Princess." he whispers to Teresa and smiles at her before telling the elder princess. "I'm coming My Lady, just finishing my last chore in here." Marcus moves towards the door and undoes the lock and opens the door. "Where am I to go to receive my punishment, My Lady." Marcus waits for her to give direction, his face showing no emotion. Yea, a punishment I don't even deserve
 
The momentary look of disorientation on Marcus' face alarmed Teresa. But why should she worry? He was, after all, just a servant. She watched him leave with her sister and a hollow place filled her chest.

Princess Marissa looked over Marcus with a critical eye. "What were you doing for her?" she demanded. She turned and walked towards her own quarters, expecting him to follow without question. "I like this to be private, Marcus. There's no reason to embarrass myself in front of others because my servant can't do things right."

She had two large pillars that ran through her room. Marissa had been thinking about the way Marcus felt underneath his shirt all day. It made her eager to know if he looked like he felt or not. "Take off your shirt," she instructed him once they were in her room. I want you to stand in front of me once you've stripped down." She opened her top drawer and took out a black leather flogger, running it over her hands lovingly.
 
"I was cleaning her room" is all that Marcus responds as he follows behind her a short distance behind her. what else would I be doing. "Yes, My Lady, I shouldn't embarrass you as such" he responds to her chastising as he walks into her room, the familiar pillars dominating the room as always.

Hearing the instructions, he does not moving an inch and Marcus strips his shirt off. After he has, Marcus moves to stand in front of Marissa once she has stopped moving and is standing in one spot. His chest is toned but not quite muscular and a 4 pack hides a receded stomach line. His back, like his chest is toned but not quite muscular. "I am ready, My Lady" Marcus says as he settles in front of her. Lets just get this over with. He looks at the black flogger in her hands and memories of all the times she used it on him come back, but he doesn't show his slight fear, knowing she will accuse him of weakness.
 
Marissa found that the thrill she got from anticipating the flogging wasn't quite as strong as before. She walked up to him, and instead of simply going to his back and starting in she stroked her hand over his chest. She watched him for a reaction, wondering what kinds of thought a lowly slave like him could have. Her hand moved lower, trailing over his pelvis and across the tops of his trousers.

Still, the flogger is in her right hand and she had that look in her eyes, the one she always got before dealing out the punishment.
 
Marcus tries to hold a neutral emotionless face, expecting the flogging to come immediately as it always did. When it didn't come and instead Marissa trailed her hand over his chest and pelvis his face slipped into one of confusion. What is she doing, this is.....odd of her. His muscles shiver under her cold touch.

Marcus held his ground and stayed put as the, the usual look of thrill in the elder princess's eyes as she circled the young slave boy every so slowly. Is there something else in that stare he asks himself, Marissa's eyes and way of going seeming...off some how. Marcus tenses a little when Marissa is finally behind him, waiting for the flogging to start. She is just trying to prolong this as another torture for me
 
Princess Marissa walked around her slave, trailing her hand across his bared skin. She snapped the flogger in the air just to goad him a little, but the leather never touched his flesh.

"I want you to strip down more," she crooned. "Take off all your clothing Marcus. Do it now." Her hand slid down between the flat expanse of his pelvis and the trousers, teasing him even more as she stopped and stood in front of him. She removed her hand and leaned the flogger over her shoulder as she smirked at him. "We shouldn't give you pain without a little pleasure now, should we?"
 
His muscles still shivering slightly under Marissa's touch, Marcus winces a little at the snap of the flogger, but is surprised that the flogger never touches him. What is she waiting for.

Hearing the order to strip further, Marcus stutters out, "Ye...yes, My Lady." Marcus then takes off his trousers and undergarments off in one motion, throwing them where his tunic sits. Where is she going with this. Hearing her last few words, Marcus's mind slips farther into confusion but his face regains its normal emotionless state. "Of course My Lady, your kindness is unmistakable," he replies, his voice a little shaky as he isn't familiar at all with this side of the elder princess....well either princess.
 
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