Asteria - In Love with the Prince Read online

  Oh God Jagor no please!

  “I think not. Not tonight.” And the two men nodded politely and departed.

  I let out a long, low sigh.

  “Disappointed?” asked Jagor, chuckling.

  I could barely speak. The fear had been overwhelming, but I’d been ready for that. What I hadn’t been ready for was the other emotion that had swept through me as I knelt there, waiting for him to decide my fate. Arousal so strong it left me physically weak.

  “God!” I managed at last. “I—”

  “Not sure?”

  I nodded. Now that my brain had time to process it, I started to understand. With the lack of control came a lack of guilt. If I chose to have sex with someone else while I was in love with Jagor, that was cheating: to most of my friends back home, at least. But if he ordered me to sleep with someone...I could enjoy every second of it.

  We were interrupted by another man. At first, I thought it was another single guy trying his luck, but this one arrived with his own slave – a lightly tanned woman, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She was completely naked. The man motioned her to a cushion opposite mine, and she knelt while her owner embraced Jagor.

  “Thank you, Sarik. I needed this to be somewhere discreet.”

  My head was swimming again. Jagor had set up a meeting here? So the Russian caviar story was just a cover for our trip to the sex club, which in turn was just a cover to meet Sarik. I was beginning to understand how many deceptions Jagor had to pull on a daily basis. No wonder our secret relationship had come so easily to him.

  “SSV have got everything we can out of the man who poisoned your father,” Sarik said. “The official line you’d be getting out of us, if you didn’t know me, is that he was paid off by one of the larger crime gangs: they don’t like the way the King cracked down on them.”

  Jagor’s voice was tight. “And what’s your line?”

  “I don’t believe it for a second. This is out of their league. I’m worried, Jagor,” I realized I’d never heard anyone else call him that. “I think things would have gone very differently, had he died. Something big would have happened; something they cancelled in a hurry when he survived.”

  “Do you have any proof?”

  “None. They did an excellent job covering their tracks. They even gave us the crime boss who supposedly hired the poisoner. Found dead, of course.”

  Jagor was silent for a moment. “Could it be another country?” My ears burned, because I knew, on some level, he was wondering if it was the US.

  Sarik stared straight back at him. “It’s not impossible. A lot of countries would like to control the palladium.”

  Jagor nodded. “What do you advise?”

  “Stay alert. Let me keep digging around: I’ll get a message to you if I find anything.”

  They shook hands, and sat back in their seats. Sarik’s slave went to fetch him a drink, padding to the bar barefoot and apparently quite at ease in her nakedness.

  “I see you finally succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh,” said Sarik. Then, to me, “Look up for me.” It was almost a shock to be spoken to directly by someone other than Jagor: I’d gone days without it. I raised my face to him, seeing him for the first time. He was about Jagor’s age, with messy, straw-colored hair and a lean, muscular build. Smaller than Jagor, but then most men were. He smiled at me, and I smiled back: I liked him already. “I thought so,” he said wryly. “Hello, Lucy.”

  Jagor and I both looked up in shock. Eventually, Jagor said, “Lucy Snow: Sarik Taum. Deputy SSV controller and my oldest friend.”

  “You’re a long way from the UN, Lucy,” Sarik told me, not unkindly. He looked at my collar, then at Jagor. “May I ask how much of this is a game, and how much is real?”

  We both looked uncomfortable. “We’re working that out,” Jagor said at last. I’d never seen him so open, without his shield of smooth confidence and bluff. Sarik was the one person other than me he could be honest with, I realized. “Do you think anyone else will recognize her?”

  Sarik shook his head, still looking at me. “I don’t think so. Bringing her here was smart – I mean, incredibly stupid, but if you’re going to do something as stupid as pass your secret lover off as an Asterian slave, this is the right way to do it. It’s so crazy no-one will believe it. If they think it’s her, they’ll assume it’s their mistake.” He smiled at me again. “I don’t suppose that you’d consider letting me borrow Lucy, and I’ll leave you with Telessa?” The naked Telessa returned from the bar, two men trailing after her. As she knelt beside him, Sarik gave the guys a glare, and they turned away instantly.

  This time it was different – Sarik was asking Jagor, but his eyes were flicking to me, as well. He wasn’t treating me as a slave: more as his friend’s lover.

  Jagor glanced at me, and I flushed – God, was he actually considering it? I was never absolutely certain with him, and this was his friend, a man he trusted. If he was going to share me with anyone, it would be Sarik.

  “I’m not sure Lucy’s ready for that,” Jagor said at last. Sarik nodded solemnly and they embraced again. Sarik knocked back his drink in one – that Asterian drinking culture in full effect – and they were gone, a wave of head-turning in Telessa’s wake.

  “Would you have wanted to?” Jagor asked me.

  I hesitated. “I’m not sure, Your Highness.”

  “What about Telessa?”

  That took me by surprise. I didn’t have any idea how gay culture worked in Asteria, if it existed at all. And I had zero experience with women; hadn’t really ever considered it. “I’m not sure about that, either,” I said at last. I had a question of my own. “Do you really think it could be another country that poisoned the King, Your Highness?”

  He shook his head. “We have no way of knowing. Sarik will find out, though, given time; he always does.” He sat back in his seat. “Stand up,” he told me.

  It was a simple enough request. But something in his tone made my whole body sing like a tuning fork; I could feel little shocks of sexual heat running up and down me.

  “I want you now, Lucy,” he told me.

  I caught my breath and then nodded, looking around.

  He smiled. “What are you looking for?”

  “The private rooms, Your Highness.”

  His smile grew wider. “There aren’t any.”

  I looked around. There were couples having sex on some of the white leather furniture, in twos and – I flushed – larger groups. But I’d never thought that we’d—

  “Aren’t you...worried about being seen, Your Highness?” I asked, stalling for time.

  “It’s the purpose of coming here. It would be unusual not to. Take off your bra.”

  I looked at him in horror. I’d stripped off in front of the windows in Monaco, with the knowledge that people might see me. But this was different – there must have been forty people – mostly men – within sight of us. And there was nothing between them and me: nothing except Jagor to stop them coming closer – even touching me. For the first time since we’d entered the club, I really hesitated.

  Jagor looked pointedly at my bra.

  I knew that all I had to do was slip the ring off my finger. But I didn’t want to do that: I wanted to follow this through. Partly out of a sense of pride. Partly because I wanted to understand more about Asteria, and more about myself. Partly because I wanted to know how he’d treat me, if I really were his slave. I wanted to know exactly what he’d have me do and whether he’d be cruel or caring. I wasn’t sure why I was so desperate to know that. I didn’t want to think about it too much; I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answer.

  There was another reason to do it, though. The idea of it – of sex with him in public, after so long skulking in the shadows, even if I was lying about who I was, held a delicious thrill. And the notion of all those men watching me, me, Lucy Snow, the one people joked was a librarian...that awoke a deep, dark heat in me, mingled with fear.

  I
took my bra off.

  As I felt my naked breasts sway free, I was aware of something over to one side of me, where most of the people were. A quieting down; people coming to attention. They could see something was starting.

  Jagor ignored them, so I did too. He stared at my breasts for a while; at first I flushed, but as he kept looking I actually stepped forward slightly and arched my back proudly: I wanted him to look at me. It hit me then, how much I’d changed since the night I’d met him.

  “Now the panties,” Jagor told me.

  That was different. Men staring at my breasts – that happened to some extent even when I was walking down the street, fully dressed. I didn’t like it - or at least I hadn’t until now – but it wasn’t completely new. Stripping off my panties in public, though...that part of me had only ever been seen by my boyfriends.

  I felt something hard under my thumb, and realized I was toying with the ring, spinning it on my finger.

  I pushed my panties down my legs, letting them fall to my feet, and stepped out of them. I was naked, apart from stockings and heels. I heard people edging closer and this time Jagor glanced up, so I did too. And gasped.

  There were maybe twenty men looking – most of them guys on their own, though some had slaves with them. About ten of them had stepped up close; maybe a dozen feet away.

  I could feel that wave of heat rush in and crash against me again, just like in the dress shop in Monaco. Only now there were ten of them doing it, and we weren’t in safe daylight in a shop: we were in semi-darkness in a sex club. And I wasn’t a foreign guest: as far as they knew, I was an Asterian slave.

  When I looked back at Jagor, he was smiling as if he knew exactly what was going through my head.

  “Come here,” he told me. I stepped towards him on shaking legs. Half of me wanted to dive into his arms, crazy for his touch. The other half was aghast at the idea of doing anything more in front of an audience.

  He glanced down at his trousers, and I forced myself to concentrate on opening them. I had to stand with his legs between mine, and I could feel eyes on my ass as I bent to undo his belt. Even as I freed his cock, he drew me down into a kiss, making me bend further at the waist. His lips were like heaven on me, pleasure exploding from the contact, straight down to my thumping heart, until I was kissing him open-mouthed and panting.

  Jagor broke the kiss and pushed me slowly back up. I knew what he wanted. But everyone was watching. As he rolled the condom on, my mind was flip-flopping between giddy lust and fear.

  “Focus on me,” he told me gently. And I did.

  Slowly bending my legs, I sank down on him. It was the first time in days...and I loved him so intensely, days felt like months. As I felt him spread me, begin to slip inside me, it felt so good I couldn’t stop myself letting out a long, low moan, and the hell with anyone around us. In fact, I let my eyes flutter closed. Apart from the low hubbub of noise, it could have been just the two of us.

  I gasped as he moved deeper and deeper inside me, reveling in the feel of him. I felt his hands come up to cup my breasts, his thumbs at my nipples, and a delicious shudder ran through me, feeling the soft nubs hardening under his touch. Then his hard groin was pressed against my slickened lips, and he was completely inside me. I ran my hands down over his chest, feeling the firm ridges of his abs through his shirt while he slid his huge, warm hands down my naked back and ass. I stared into his eyes...and I was ready.

  I started to move, my hands pressing on his shoulders to lift myself, my rhythm slowly building. My breasts bounced and jumped in his hands, nipples softly rubbing in a way that made me grind my hips in ecstasy. He leaned close, drawing my head to him so he could whisper in my ear, his low growl making me tremble. “Look around you,” he told me.

  My eyes opened. My brain was fogged with lust, which dulled the shock of it. Four or five of the men were within touching distance. None of them was actually touching me – yet.

  “They won’t, unless I tell them to,” Jagor told me.

  Gasping, rising up on his cock, for a crazy second part of me wanted him to. To be the center of attention, to have all those male hands all over me.... But I shook my head and he nodded, as if he understood. I had my answer. I knew now how he’d treat me, if I were his slave: gently and with love, and with everything at my pace.

  I started to buck faster on him; I could feel us both building toward our release. I wasn’t ignoring the men around us anymore; we were feeding off each other, me performing for them and their gaze driving me towards my climax. I was leaning over Jagor, hair hanging down, hands pressed hard into the muscles of his shoulders as I drove myself up and down, my long stockinged legs astride him. He was driving his cock up into me with powerful lunges of his hips and rolling my nipples between fingers and thumbs, gently squeezing as my breasts bounced in his hands. The sensations were making me light-headed, sending a rippling cascade of heat straight down into my groin. We were both panting, loud in the quiet room, every moan and cry audible. I knew now why there was no music: everyone wanted to hear. I moved faster, faster, having trouble containing it—

  Jagor whispered to me again, and his voice was strained from holding back. “Let it go now, Lucy. Not just for me. For them.”

  And the idea of it, of reaching my climax in front of all those people – because of all those people, pushed me over the edge. I squeezed Jagor tight between my thighs, making him gasp, and even as I felt him shudder beneath me, I was clutching at his back, my naked breasts pressed hard against him as I came.

  There was no catcalling, no coarse jokes. All of the men watching us just enjoyed the moment...and then the crowd gradually melted away. And I knew I’d changed, in some way: by letting everyone else watch, on his orders, I’d moved a step closer to being his. I wouldn’t have understood the contradiction myself, before I met him. But then I wouldn’t have figured myself for an exhibitionist, either.

  When I’d recovered, I put my bra and panties back on – strange how underwear that had seemed shockingly flimsy when I walked into the club now felt like being fully dressed. I kissed Jagor again, a long, lingering kiss because I knew that tomorrow we’d have to go back to hiding from everyone. I told him that I needed to visit the ladies’ room before we left.

  “Be careful,” he warned. I was on a post-orgasmic high: I thought he was just saying it out of habit.

  The club was much bigger than I’d first thought – we’d been in the main room, but there were lots of twisting corridors and smaller areas – though as Jagor had said, nowhere was actually private. With all the walls made of the same shiny black material, it was difficult to get your bearings. I saw slaves spread-eagled on wooden “X”s, tied bent over padded benches and standing with their wrists bound above their heads. I saw men using paddles, riding crops and canes – in one case, a whip. I couldn’t stop a shudder running through me. Was this what awaited me, if I gave myself to Jagor? I didn’t think I could possibly enjoy it...although I’d thought the same thing about the spanking.

  I had some thinking time, as I searched for the bathroom. I finally understood what it would mean if I gave myself to Jagor. Not the surface stuff: the collar and the kneeling and the bondage. Those were just the trappings. Underneath there was something deeper and much more important: something that had been part of me forever, without me knowing it. Something Jagor had seen in me, when he’d met me at the embassy. I wasn’t ready to make the leap: not even close. But giving myself to him was starting to sound less insane than it had.

  I was still turning it over and over in my mind when I finally found the ladies’ room, the sinks packed with slaves touching up their make-up. I was still deep in thought as I walked back towards Jagor. I think that’s why I didn’t notice him until it was too late.

  He was as tall as Jagor, and even more heavily muscled. At first, I mistook him for an older man, because his long hair was pure white. I was expecting him to step aside to let me pass down the narrow corridor: when he didn’t, I almo
st walked straight into him. “Excuse me,” I said apologetically, my head still bowed.

  He still failed to move. “Look at me,” he said. I lifted my head, and realized that his hair must be bleached, because he looked only a few years older than Jagor. He had thin, cruel lips and high cheekbones: he actually reminded me of the Queen, in some ways, but with even less warmth. I had an immediate reaction to him, as powerful as my one to Jagor, that night in the embassy. Only while Jagor had made me almost drunk with desire, this man made me want to run. It was instinctual cold dread: like standing barefoot in a room with a spider.

  “Prince Jagor has finally taken a slave,” he said, looking at my collar. His voice was hypnotic, and held great authority: I could imagine him on TV, or addressing a crowd. “And a pretty one.”

  “Thank you.’ I looked away from him, wondering if there was room to slide past him. There wasn’t.

  “I didn’t say for you to look away!”

  Etiquette was that slaves must obey non-slaves – as long as this doesn’t contravene the wishes of their owner. I had to be polite, or he might guess that I was an interloper. I forced myself to meet his eyes again.

  “I watched you,” he told me with a smile.

  I realized he meant having sex: he’d seen me writhing and shaking atop Jagor. I’d been fine with that, because the men around us had been respectful. This was different: for some reason, the thought of him seeing my climax sent a shudder through me.

  “You like being watched, don’t you?” It wasn’t a question.

  I nodded.

  “Perhaps you and I should go somewhere together.” His fingers came up and toyed with the ring at the front of my collar, where Jagor had unclipped the leash. His eyes flicked behind me and I turned to look. There was a small room there, the doorway gaping like a black maw. Like all the rooms at the club, there was no door, but it was quiet and dark.

  My legs felt as if they were made of rubber, and there was no accompanying rush of heat. This was simple, primal fear. The man took a step towards me, and I took an instinctive step back. He smiled, and took another step, and I backed away again. Something brushed one arm: the doorpost. He was using my fear to push me inside.