There was a collective silence in the room. All gathered had expected the word 'Master' to erupt from the Princess' lips and it seemed all were to be disappointed. The slave in question gazed forward with a remarkably stoic look that amused even Lucius, so much so that he had to work to keep his face straight and his expression foreboding.
'So be it,' he said finally, shaking his head.
The crop in his hand reared back in a graceful arc and he let it fly. It connected with that soft, swollen nub of pleasure with a satisfying smack and Rosalind's eyes went wide. Then... all hell let loose.
Firstly Rosalind screamed the scream of screams.
This nearly floored every man in the room.
Byron had his fingers so far down his eardrums they were practically touching brain matter. Once again he'd had to retreat to his Island paradise, eyes tightly closed, letting the sun's rays seep warmth into his body. Whilst there, he decided to contemplate the joys of marrying a luscious, full bodied and deliciously ripe native girl. One who was preferably mute, he added as an afterthought.
The screaming finally stopped and Rosalind's jaw seemed to be making strange 'Oh Oh' shapes as her face twisted in spasms of pain, whilst tears of agony streamed down her cheeks. Choked little sobs of disbelief were the only sounds that could now be heard.
Gingerly, hands were prised away from ears as once more temporary sanity and hearing returned to the room.
'You!' came a very loud, rather angry voice from the floor at the front of the dais.
Byron recognised that voice. Alas the forthcoming nuptials would have to be put on hold as once again he was firmly catapulted back into the present day. Realising he was in a little bit of trouble, he began to slowly sink to the floor below as surreptitiously as possible.
'YOU LOST ME MY PRINCESS!' roared the by now very awake, sober and more than a touch grumpy merchant.
In response Byron hit the floor, crawling at the speed of light between numerous chairs littering the room, towards the exit.
'COME BACK HERE,' screamed the now apoplectic man. 'I challenge you to a duel, you conniving little thief.'
Byron made it to the exit door glad of his svelte frame for once and turned back to smile charmingly at the merchant, fingers already on the door latch.
'And I, The Great and Mighty sword fighter Byron,' said Byron pausing for dramatic effect whilst watching the merchant struggle to his feet, 'Challenge You.... TO CATCH ME FIRST!'
The door slammed quickly shut, letting in a puff of dust in its wake.
The merchant's jaw for a second went slack in disbelief and then, recovering himself went roaring off all swords blazing after the valet.
Quick as a flash the auction room's participants rushed to the door to watch the ensuing games. Let's face it, fighting was much more fun than Princesses any day of the week.
*
The altercation left a bemused Lucius pleasantly alone with a semi conscious, if somewhat disobedient slave. He caressed her cheek softly to bring her back to the land of the living.
'Oh God I hurt all over,' groaned Rosalind, shaking her head groggily as if to clear the pain filled void her mind had become.
'Oh God I hurt all over MASTER,' Lucius corrected, letting the crop touch her tortured, striped arse, dragging it along the backs of her thighs and once more stroking her swollen clitoris softly with it.
'Oh God I hurt all over Master,' Rosalind allowed.
Lucius looked back at her sharply with narrowed eyes.
'That was a bit too easy,' he murmured, face darkening slightly.
'Mmm,' Rosalind replied trying not to slip to and from consciousness. 'There's no-body watching me now,' she finished with a try at an impish smile directed at her tormentor.
Now why had he suspected as much? Without warning the crop once more flew to embed itself in the rather raw, decidedly red and deliciously sore backside of his new slave. This time he let her slip back into unconsciousness without any further interference from himself. The fact that her arms would strain tightly against the cuffs connected to the eyebolts high above would be punishment enough when she awoke.
*
Byron could not be found. It was perhaps more accurate to say that Byron didn't want to be found so much, that he had taken above average precautions to prevent the possibility.
Admittedly he was rather more fleet of foot than Mr I'm a bit too big for my boots, so the dash across the Castle courtyard to the servants quarter behind wasn't the hardest race he'd ever entered. Then there was the having to bribe a deliciously young and nubile chamber maid to take off her clothes, which was just too horrible to contemplate. The watching her strip part particularly vile as he made to don her clothes. In fact the only part which really bothered him, was having to pretend to lump up and down on some spotty servant boy, also bribed, when the merchants lackeys came looking for him.
At their entrance Byron was making good on his budding acting career. He was decked out in a long blond wig and had petticoats flying everywhere, whilst making high pitched feminine squeals of delight and giving a champion snog that left the poor stable boy speechless, but perhaps for all the wrong reasons. Thankfully the men moved on quickly. Byron was only a little put out that they hadn't stayed to watch.
Honestly, the things one had to do, to keep one's head attached to one's body, was simply astounding.
*
'ARRRGHH. LET ME DOWN DAMNIT!'
Rosalind's nap had been short and not in the remotest bit sweet. Her awakening to a fresh new world of sore limbs, swollen striped flesh and screaming muscles was not at all to her liking.
'Now you can repeat all of that, adding the word Master or it will amuse me greatly to watch you hang like that all day,' said Lucius arching an eyebrow.
'Oh and a word of advice: if you're a smart slave, you'll swap damnit for please.'
Rosalind, having a good inkling of when she was beaten, both literally and figuratively in this case, conceded to the Prince's wishes with a suitably meek voice. He may have won this battle, but she intended to resume the war, just as soon as her backside recovered. (Little did she know it would rarely, if perhaps ever).
For now, exhausted with today's excitement, Lucius decided to saddle up and set off for the nearest inn. It was obvious some training was in order before the Princess was fit to meet Mama.
To soften her up a little, he'd decided that she would ride naked. Not only would it add the most delicious hue of crimson to her pale cheeks as she saw all of her subjects witness her unusual departure, it would also leave his hands with plenty of things to explore on the journey.
She would also ride on his horse in front of himself, to prevent the possibility of her causing trouble.
With a decidedly wicked grin on his face, he prayed for a pleasantly bumpy ride with more than their fair share of potholes to grace the road ahead. That arse would be murder in short order and he intended to put that little detail to full use for the evening ahead.
Now, where was Byron?
*
