I watch the Prince from the nest of down comforters and pillows, covering my mouth for absolute silence. He’s discussing something serious with the Master of the House, frowning and nodding as the older woman explains whatever it is. They’re speaking in Joeben, the official language here, but I’ve been specifically banned from learning it to keep me obedient and restricted to my linguistic bubble. Who would teach a whore anyway? I’m to remain quiet, out of the way, and available when ever he desires me. The Prince speaks four total tongues, so we speak Utaian in bed and nothing else. I know a few Joeben words, but am not conversational.There are other girls in the harem I can talk to, one of the cooks, and the horse farrier, really although his accent is heavy.

They all think I’m super lucky that I get to play with the Prince’s cock but they don’t know how hard it is to experience chasmal unrequited love day in and day out. I am a thing to my darling Prince, a toy, a hole, but he is dear and precious to me. I would die for him. He could parade me around town naked if he held the other end of the rope around my neck. I know when I get older and looser, he’ll tire of me, but as the Prince’s bed companion, I will likely be delegated to his personal servant instead of being sold. Especially so, since I am branded with a tiny royal crest on my pectoral. Still…that’s my prayer, so I can guarantee I’ll be by his side forever. My eyes roam over his tanned body, blue black hair asymmetrically disheveled, white slacks clinging to his ass, the way his long fingers pluck at his ascot when he concentrates. A slave’s wish isn’t worth the air it rests on, though, but if there is any god up in the Heavens may he have mercy on my pitiful soul.