BEAST'S SLAVE - CHAPTER 18
All the slaves of the citadel gathered in the hall where Grand Lord Zaiper requested their presence.
As he addressed them, Emeriel tuned him out, his eyes searching for Aekeira amidst the large number of slaves in the meeting hall. His sister must be actively avoiding drawing the attention of the grand lord because she was nowhere in sight.
“You are all meant to serve your masters. Do wh@??ver they want from you. Your life is not yours; they can take it whenever they so desire. The same goes for your bodies. We own you. If you wish to see more days, you must ensure that you complete your tasks well and to the best of your abilities.”
The hall fell into a hushed silence as he continued, explicitly stating how they were mere objects with no feelings or will.
No one dared to utter a word. In fact, no one dared to even breathe too hard for fear of drawing his attention.
“Defiance and deception will be met with severe penalties. Especially deception. A slave is not allowed to keep secrets. A slave has no business keeping secrets. Because the day what you hide come to light will be the day you despise your own existence. Does anyone have a confession to make? Is there anything you are hiding from us?”
Emeriel’s heart pounded in his chest. His own secret, forbidden in all the kingdoms of the world, echoed in his ears like warning bells.
The weight of it pressed upon him.
“Speak now, and I might consider a more lenient punishment for you, or hold your tongue. If you choose the latter, your time is already ticking. Tick tock. Tick tock.”
His handsome but eerie face stretched into an unsettling smile. “The date for the presentation of new slaves will soon be announced. All of you are expected to be in court on that day. You are all dismissed.”
As they filed out of the court, Emeriel slipped between two slaves, making his way out. The words of Grand Lord Zaiper lingered in his mind.
A slave has no business keeping secrets. A slave has no business keeping secrets.
Emeriel knew what the presentation of slaves to court meant. They would be stripped bare and used as entertainment for the lords and privileged.
He had overheard slaves whisper about it, and the things he had heard…
Bile rose in his throat at the thought of being exposed, naked, and used by several Urekais. And what if they discovered he was actually female that day?
Chills ran down his body. So many problems and no solutions.
Lost in his thoughts, Emeriel went about his errands for the day.
Suddenly, a large hand grabbed him, jerking him forward and pulling him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Slave Master Boris staring down at him.
“Good day, Master Boris,” Emeriel said, bowing his head.
“You have not been to the inn in ages,” Master Boris snarled angrily, tightening his grip on Emeriel’s arm.
Emeriel winced but held it in, blinking innocently at the slave master while enduring the pain. “I have not been assigned to the cellar, Master.”
Master Boris knew very well that Emeriel could not return until he was assigned again, and Emeriel watched the Urekai grind his teeth in anger.
A moment passed, and finally, Master Boris released his grip and stepped back.
“Although the final decision depends on the assigner, slaves are allowed to make suggestions. When you are next assigned, you must suggest the cellar, Slave Prince. Am I clear?”
Not a chance in hell. “Yes, Master,” he bowed his head.
Emeriel would sooner eat from a trash bin than suggest that. He was beginning to recognize that look in Master Boris’s eyes.
The same look Lord Zaiper had when he stared at Aekeira that day—pure, unadulterated lust.
Yeah, he would avoid the master as much as he possibly could.
“Good.” Slave Master Boris whirled around and continued on his way.
•••••••••••••.
Emeriel’s duty was to dry freshly washed clothes, so he found himself standing behind the drying ropes, hanging numerous wet garments one by one.
Murmurs filled the air, followed by the sounds of greetings that indicated the approach of an aristocrat.
The long linens obstructed his view, preventing him from seeing who it was. When he emerged from behind the linens, he noticed the other slaves bowing deeply, and he followed suit.
However, it seemed that he had made a mistake, as the luxurious gown of the aristocrat drew closer and closer until it stood right in front of him.
He heard the sound of the slap before he felt the searing pain. Crack!
His ears rang. The pain reverberated through his entire being.
“Who do you think you are, that you fail to bow to me upon seeing me?” came the venomous voice of the aristocrat, filled with anger.
With his head lowered, Emeriel couldn’t discern the identity of the person. “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 Emeriel had seen 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!” she interrupted.
Emeriel had witnessed slaves being whipped before, and it was never a sight one could forget. And he had seen those whips—sturdy and filled with thorns.
Panic gripped him. His mouth opened to plead further…
However, 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—and his pride was all he had left.
“Position your back, slave,” the slave master ordered him.
Emeriel raised his head to get a good look at Mistress Sinai. She appeared entirely satisfied, looking down her haughty nose at Emeriel 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.
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.
He could feel 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, with no one else in sight. 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, but a feminine arm wrapped around him.
“What happened to you, Prince Emeriel? Who whipped you?” came a horrified voice.
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.
Emeriel felt relieved that he did not have to find his own way.
An hour later, the pain had somewhat subsided, thanks to wh@??ver was in the potion Madam Livia had given him.
Now, he lay on the bed, naked from the waist down, while Amie hovered nearby and the head maid mixed some leaves in a bowl.
“You should do your best to avoid Mistress Sinai, Emeriel. Do everything you can to avoid becoming her target,” Madam Livia advised.
“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,” he recalled the searing pain of the whip slicing into his back.
Madam Livia had applied herbs to his wounds and wrapped them in cloth. Emeriel continued, “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 Emeriel could see her mind clearly at work.
“Here, drink this,” the woman eventually said, handing Emeriel a cup filled with a bitter concoction.
His face scrunched up in response to the taste, 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 considered 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.
However, 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 hurry. “The beast…um…You remember what happened t-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.
Emeriel was confused by her reaction. “What’s so funny?” he 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, Urekais rarely give birth. 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 couples search 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.
The older woman continued, “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 segz. 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 th-ru_sts of his organ plundering in and out of his trembling channel.
As if the creature had every right to claim him. Taking him. Owning him.
Moisture pooled between his legs. His confined ??pplës stiffened, and his body warmed.
Emeriel groaned, quickly squeezing his legs together.
What in the world was wrong with him?
Why did his mind constantly dwell on a beast that had caused him immense pain?
Why did he become aroused?
Something was definitely wrong with him. Perhaps he was losing his sanity. And as sleep overtook him, a last thought to him.
While the pains were not overwhelming anymore because of Madam Livia’s attendance, it was still excruciating. His body hurts…badly.
Why does the mistress h@?? him so?
.
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