Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters however the story is my own.
Following the non-execution, I take Esmeralda back to my chambers. I had planned for some simple cleaning on her part, but it seems she has other things on her mind. As we enter, she pets my tiger, directing him to guard the door.
I smile at her and walk towards my bed, dropping her hand and trailing my fingers over every inch of furniture.
"So this is where a princess does it?" She asks, looking around, slightly dazed, but her voice remains husky.
"What was I last night, if this is the only place where I do it?" I ask, eyebrow raised.
"You were no princess last night." She says, coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around the bare skin of my belly.
"Oh really? Then you will be no servant now?" I ask, a smile in my voice.
"Princesses don't play rough, my lady…" She says, hands sliding further up. My breasts harder at her touch and she pushes more. Rather suddenly then, she tosses me onto the bed and crawls atop me. My hands slip under her top, sliding up and revealing what I couldn't see last night in the dark of the dungeon. My breath catches as she looms above me, busily undoing my sarong.
A little while later, I get up as Esmeralda lies in bed still sleeping soundly. I'm slipping on my clothes when my tiger growls suddenly and the door is burst open. Two of my father's guards, staring at me hungrily walk in. I rush to cover myself, feeling raped from just their eyes. Men, all men, disgust me so after being with Esmeralda.
"You're father wishes to see you, princess. We will watch the other girl…" They say, elbowing each other as they stare at her still naked form.
I reach over, shielding her with a blanket and call my tiger up. He lies atop Esmeralda, baring his teeth.
"No. You touch her, or even look at her again, I will have you executed." I say, threatening in a low, guttural voice.
They frown but nod, taking me as they leave. I am thrown into my father's throne but I stumble to a walk before he notices.
Another young man is sitting beside him, smiling leeringly at me, and watching the way my sarong hugs every curve of my body. I spit at him as I pass and my father gasps loudly, but the man never breaks his smile.
"I like feisty women." He says, reaching for me but I jump out of his way, and he shrugs it off, like it happens often, which I believe.
"Jasmine, that is no way to treat your betrothed." My father scolds, blustering.
My what?!