Owned By the Prince by Tristan Rivers
Chapter 6
Prince Maximillion
Blair. The moment I saw her standing in front of the palace, her lip curled in insolence but her eyes pools of vulnerability, my cock sprang to attention, and I stopped feeling guilty for bringing her here. I had to do it for her own good. Those monsters will have her phone tapped already, and god knows what they’ll do to her if she breathes a word to anyone about last night.
But now she’s here, I’m going to enjoy her, every bit of her. I’m going to make her my pet. Keep her here for my pleasure, and give her everything she wants in life. So what if I have to marry Clarice? I’ll do my public duty as I always do and take my pleasures in private.
I picked out her outfit myself, had it couriered here. I can’t wait to see her in it, see those sweet, round tits grazing the soft material, know she’s wearing nothing underneath but a tiny pair of panties. And then I’m going to take great pleasure in stripping it off her, claiming her for my own.
And in time I’ll introduce her to the delights of the playroom. There’s fire in those laser-beam eyes, but I’ve got a feeling she’ll enjoy submitting to me. Impulsively, I go to my bookcase, deactivate the security lock, and enter my playroom. I stride around, picturing her cuffed to the bench, or up against the cross, as she is introduced to every bit of equipment. I’ve never had a girl who’s inexperienced at BDSM, and it’ll be a delight to see her reactions as I test her limits and she discovers the release it can bring her. My cock’s so hard now I almost feel sorry for her.
I check my watch. She’s been alone in her new room for almost twenty minutes. It’s time. I cross the warren of passages and enter the south wing of the palace where her quarters are. As I knock on the door, I imagine her sitting on the edge of the bed a little self-consciously, aware how much her dress reveals, but full of desire too, because she knows what’s coming. She wanted me last night before she knew who I was, and I liked that a lot. She’s possibly the only human in my whole life who’s wanted me for myself, not because I’m His Royal Highness, Prince Max, seventh in line to the throne of Anglia.
There’s no reply. I frown and knock again. Still nothing. The door is locked like I told James to do. I remove the key from my pocket and unlock it. Anticipation charging in my veins, I open the door.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed as I imagined. But she’s not wearing the dress. No, it’s balled up on the floor, as if she flung it there. I stare at the dress, then back at her again.
“You haven’t changed into the outfit I provided.” My voice is ice.
Her eyes blaze electric blue. “Because I’m not a fucking prostitute.” I stop dead, unused to such disrespect, but rather charmed at the way her passion has brought out her native accent. And if anything, my cock has gotten even harder.
“You’ve got no right to imprison me here, thinking I’ll do whatever you want!” she continues.
“I’ve got half a mind to smack your arse for such insolence.”
“Do it. It won’t change anything,” she spits, as wild as a feral cat.
A slow smile spreads across my face. No one makes me an offer like that without consequences. In a single movement, I plant myself down on the bed, snatch her up, and lay her across my lap. She gives a yelp of surprise, but I don’t let up. I tip her so her feet come right off the floor and hold her down with my left arm. With my right, I land a series of whacks on each of her lovely, round buttocks. She yelps, but I know it hasn’t hurt her. To discipline her properly, I’d need to lift that skirt right up, expose her flesh. I take hold of the hem, preparing to do just that, and she squirms on my lap. My breath catches, a grin spreading across my lips. “I think you’d like that. I think you want my hand on your bare arse,” I say. She makes a sound, something unintelligible, and I let her go. “You can get up now.”
She stands up, shimmying her skirt down her thighs. Her face is flushed, and she’s breathing hard. There’s a tell-tale redness in her lips and her pupils are dilated, making her irises stormy.
I’m itching to push her to her knees, slide my cock between those soft lips. Instead, I take hold of her wrist. “Sit down,” I say so firmly that she obeys. “I’m employing you here as my assistant for the next month. I won’t force you to have sex with me. But I do require you to wear the clothes I buy for you.”
Her smooth forehead furrows. She really is adorable.
“Aside from everything else, you might recall that I’m in school at the moment,” she says.
“You’ll be able to do your college work remotely. I’ve seen to that. Your professor will teach you via video calls for the next few weeks. And at the end of the month, you’ll receive compensation of five hundred thousand pounds, or seven hundred thousand dollars in your money. How does that sound?”
She tries hard not to look shocked, then stares at the floor, evidently weighing it up. I smile to myself, running my gaze over her lovely face, those strong eyebrows, thick, dark lashes, sweetly curved nose, and full cherry lips. “So what kind of work do you have for me?” she says at last.
“Admin. A little light housework,” I say airily. I hadn’t thought about any of this. I rather assumed she’d jump at the chance to be my pet.
That wild-cat rage rises in her again. “Housework?”
“My domestic staff do most of it, of course. But I value my privacy, and I don’t like them coming into my private quarters.”
One of her straight, dark eyebrows shoots toward her hairline, and I’m suddenly feeling a little ridiculous.
“So I’m going to fill out some spreadsheets for you and dust your shelves. Anything else?’
“And walk my dog.”
There’s a flicker of light in her eyes. “You have a dog?”
“Yes. I brought her back from Afghanistan with me. I’ll need you to walk her when I’m away on official business.”
She nods. “Okay, I can do that.”
“There’s one more thing,” I say softly.
Her head snaps up. “What’s that?”
“You agree that I can punish you for any mistakes or wrongdoings.”
She inhales sharply, a tinge of color rising to her cheeks. “Punish me how?” she says in a tight voice.
A cruel smile twists my lips. “Any way I see fit.”
Her pupils dilate some more. “You mean—?”
“I want to show you something.” I get to my feet and take her hand. I was planning to introduce this later, but I can’t wait any longer.
I lead her out of her room, through the corridors, and all the way into my quarters to the bookcase. I open the door to the playroom, the sweet, leather-scented air whooshing out, and I bring her in.
“Holy shit!” she breathes. “This is a—a dungeon?”
“I call it a playroom. Take a look around.”
I let go of her hand, and to my delight, she begins to explore the room. Her small hand even runs over the equipment, much as mine has done in the past days, and it takes all my self-control not to strip her naked and strap her to the bench.
“This is different,” she says when she pauses by the doorway of the princess room. I usually leave it locked when I’m showing my playthings around since I’m not sure whether they deserve its luxuries, but I was preparing for her arrival, and no-one could deserve it as much as Blair.
“It’s for aftercare.”
She gives me a questioning look.
“I understand that being punished can evoke all kinds of feelings—euphoria, vulnerability. So this is a place to relax and…rebalance.”
She nods. When she’s finished exploring, I take her back into the main playroom. I want her to be among the implements of discipline when I ask her the question.
“So?”
“So what?” Her eyes are huge with conflicting emotions.
“Do you accept the deal I’m offering?”
“Do these—hurt?” she asks, stepping over to the row of crops and fingering them.
I fight the grin threatening to break across my face. “I’ll only punish you when you need it. And never more than you can bear,” I answer solemnly.
I restrain a grin as she picks up a crop and taps it against the fabric of her skirt.
“I’d be happy to show you how it feels so you can make an informed decision,” I say in what I imagine is the tone of a salesman offering to provide a free sample.
She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, and my cock surges beneath my pants. I hope she doesn’t notice, but there’s not too much I can do about it if she does.
“Uh, okay?” she drawls and looks at me, waiting for instructions.
I fucking love this. This feisty girl is already flipping, the submissive that I knew was inside her beginning to emerge.
“Bend over the bench and lift up your skirt,” I say. She does it, slowly, reluctantly. It’s too much. She’s wearing hold-up stockings, and as the perfect, pale globes of her ass are revealed, I can hardly refrain myself from pulling her panties down, whipping her arse until it’s red all over, then plunging my cock into her. She’s so fucking perfect. Instead, I stroke her arse with the tip of the crop, from the tops of her stockings to the edge of her white panties. When I touch the very top of her inner thigh, she squirms. Perfect. I aim the crop and whack her with it across the middle of her buttocks, but not hard. She makes a sound, more surprise than pain, and I follow it up with half a dozen more.
“How’s that?”
“Okay.” Her voice is muted.
“Good.” I step away, leaving her there, and after a moment she figures out that I’m done, stands up, shuffles her skirt down.
I stay silent, holding the crop in both hands, staring down at her. I fucking love this feeling of power. It’s nothing like being a prince, a soldier. But this is sweet, psychological control, and it makes my cock fit to explode.
“I accept the deal,” she says at last.
“Good. Now…” I pause and look at my watch. “I believe you have a tutorial starting in fifteen minutes.”
She blinks. “I do.”
“Go back to your room and open your laptop. Your professor will video call you.”
She laughs. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Why?”
“He’s not exactly known for his technological skill, or his patience.”
“I’m sure he’s had some assistance.”
I show her out, then I sit on the edge of my bed, replaying every sweet moment. Blair may think I’m just going to beat that sweet arse, but she’ll be mine before the week’s out. I’m going to possess every part of that lovely body, and when I’m done, she’ll never want to leave.
