Page 56 of The Princess In A 'Prince' Disguise

Moisture pooled between his legs. His confined nipples stiffened, and his body warmed. Emeriel groaned, quickly squeezing his legs together.

What in the world is wrong with me?Why does my mind constantly dwell on a beast that has caused me immense pain? Why am I so aroused?

Chapter eighteen

THE RISE OF AN UNWANTED EMOTION

It had been a week since Emeriel's whipping when he was reassigned to the tavern again as a cellar slave.

He had done his best to avoid that place, even suggesting alternative work assignments when given the chance, but the slavemaster’s glare shut him up. He had no other option.

There was a weekend gathering at the tavern, and they needed extra help.

Although Emeriel was fortunate to be paired with Amie, she appeared just as dispirited as he was.

As Emeriel entered the inn with Amie trailing behind him, all eyes turned towards them. Urekai males occupied each table, some sipping ale, others engaged in card games.

Tankards of ale and goblets of wine were raised in toasts, while storytelling and minstrel music filled the air.

In the dark corners, some Urekai males had their slaves pleasuring them, while they laughed boisterously amidst their conversations. The tavern was bustling tonight.

Every step drew more eyes upon them as they made their way towards the counter.

"That boy is back again," Emeriel overheard someone mutter. Then, in a louder voice, the male called out, "Come here, slaves."

Emeriel wished he could pretend not to be the one summoned. However, with all those eyes fixed on him, he couldn't afford such a mistake.

He walked towards the male and stood before the table. "Good day, sirs," he greeted everyone at the table.

The Urekai male's large hand reached for his cheek and cradled it, frowning. "For a male, you have a ridiculously soft skin."

Hands groped his buttocks, touching and squeezing as if they had every right to do so.

Emeriel swallowed his revulsion, his body tense with the effort not to react.

"Yeah, you're right, Cypher. He's pretty soft, and that skin... as pale and beautiful as alabaster," one of them cheered. "Hey, slave, get down on your knees. You're going to suck me off."

Cypher glared at the other male. "Back off, Ralph. This one is mine." He turned back to Emeriel. "Get on your knees. I think the boys would be happy to see you suck cock. And if you're going to suck cock, it sure as hell will be mine."

"But I'm needed in the cellar. I have to go inside—"

"You don't need to do anything except what we tell you," Cypher threatened, his eyes filled with rage. "If you don't want me to cut off your tongue, you'll do as I ask. Right. Now."

Emeriel's knees hit the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man roughly groping Amie, another pair of hands on her breasts.

With trembling hands, Emeriel reached for Cypher's breeches.

"Emeriel! Amie! To the cellar now!" Slavemaster Boris's voice boomed in the air.

Emeriel snatched his hands back, quickly standing up. He had never been so relieved to hear his voice before.

"We're having fun, Boris," Cypher growled.

"Not with my slaves, and not now. We're short-handed. They're needed in the cellar," Boris firmly reinstated. "Unless you gentlemen aren't ready to get your ales as you want them."

Grumbling discontentedly, they released Emeriel and Amie, and the two hurried towards the cellar.

Inside, Master Gaine sat mixing drinks, his brow furrowed. "You're late."

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