Chapter 5

A knock came to the door, and King Lucien gave approval for entry. Baski entered. “I have gotten her to her room, and I have also–”

“I don’t need the details, Baski. I don’t care,” he stated curtly, writing on the scroll.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Baski said immediately.

“How’s Remeta?”

Baski’s eyes softened at the mention of her daughter. “She’s doing fine, Your Majesty. Her ears still don’t work well, but she’s doing better.”

He raised his head. “How old is she now?”

“Fifteen, Your Highness.”

King Lucien lowered his head.

Tears burned the back of Baski’s eyes. She knew what the king was thinking because that was her thought every day. Her daughter was too young to go through what she went through in the hands of the Mombana kingdom. Remeta would never recover from that experience.

“I’m glad. Send me Vetta,” he stated curtly.

Baski stiffened at the mention of her name. “Should I tell her to come prepared?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, Your Majesty.” She turned and left.

Lucien paused his writing and stared down at his very erect cock. He hadn’t been able to come with Danika, and he wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to, but because only Vetta could make him come.

Vetta was also a slave before—she and almost all the women in his kingdom. His relationship with Vetta started right there in hell.

Danika had Lucien wired, and he needed the relief that came from sex. He was no longer a normal man. Cone made sure of that. Lucien could no longer achieve satisfaction like a normal man. He stared down at his scarred, painful erection. Long scars lined it, wounds from long ago that fried the veins of his phallus.

They fried his manhood so that most of the nerves there were no longer working right.

Lucien had to put a lot more effort into achieving satisfaction during sex, and he must achieve that satisfaction once he was erect because the more he swelled, the more his scars stretched, the more pain he felt. He had to work for it before he could feel pleasure while coupling… had to be extra rough and do other things…

Only Vetta could take him while he was this way.

While he hated Danika with every bone in his body, he wasn’t ready to unleash himself on her yet, not on her first night here, because he would damage her beyond repair, even if it really tempted him to do that.

No, he didn’t want to kill her. Death had no part in the plans he had for her… at least not yet.

He closed his eyes. That was the most painful thing he had ever endured at the hands of Cone. The one he could never forget.

He growled in rage. How could he ever forget when he received the scars?

Danika. More hatred washed over him at the very thought of her.

Her blonde hair that used to be so dirty was now clean, long, and shiny—not to mention wavy. A face that used to be dirty was well groomed, and she wore very light makeup.

Instead of a slave cloth, Vetta wore an exquisite red ball gown as she marched in.

Lucien heard from other women that Vetta could be a first-class bitch, and she even behaved like a queen, like she owned him. All the rumors were unfounded, however, because Vetta had never behaved out of sorts with him. She only oversaw his pleasure. His dark needs.

“Not the bed,” Lucien commanded as she started walking towards it.

Vetta stared at the unsmiling, immense man with a mean scar running down his face. She smiled. “Yes, my king.”She walked towards the table and leaned against it, waiting for him.

He got up and walked towards her in silence. Vetta smiled to herself when she saw his erect organ. She’d heard of the new slave, the former Princess Danika. Apparently, even the new slave couldn’t give Lucien what he needed. Vetta smiled to herself; she’d been worried for nothing. She alone owned King Lucien. It was a heady feeling, owning a powerful man like him.

He reached close and pulled her around to face the table and give him her back. He’s always been a ‘no preamble’ person, and that was why he’d always sent for her to come prepared. The king exposed her naked flesh by raising her gown, bunching it on her waist. He shoved two fingers into her.

She was wet and slick. He grunted his approval. In one swift movement, he shoved his hot cock into her from behind forcefully, grunting inaudibly.

Vetta bit her lips and winced as he pummeled her body. He grabbed her hair and yanked on it as he began thrusting his big dick into her. She moaned; pleasure and pain mixed and became one. The table rattled with the force of his animalistic thrusts. He unleashed himself on her, taking her in powerful rough thrusts that both hurt and gave great pleasure.

He snaked his hands forward and grabbed her breasts, pinching her nipples hard. The force of his thrusts drew on them. Her moans filled the air. He slapped a breast hard.

“Yes, yes!” she cried out.

Her moans, his grunts, the slap of skin hitting skin, and the fierce rattle of the table were the only sounds in the room.

Then he pulled out of her, spread her ass cheeks, and worked himself deep inside her with a groan. Vetta erupted with a scream as he pounded her ass, clawing on the table while her body sprawled rhythmically, her hair falling all over the place.

She felt his weight on her from behind as he leaned closer, changed the angle of his thrusts, and then started a short, hard, fast plunge. He went on and on. Vetta relaxed against him, taking it all—the pleasure and the pain. When he snaked his hand in front of her and slapped her clit, she gave a long moan, dangerously close to another orgasm.

He yanked on her hair so hard he rippled a few strands out, gripping it in his fierce hold as he plunged in and out of her ass. The action pushed her over the edge, the pain something her body always craved after the only thing her body knew for years and years. As she jerked beneath him, he finally followed with his hoarse groan as he came.

A full minute later, he tugged himself back into his pants and faced the bathroom. “Get out.”

“B-but, my king…”

Her hoarse voice stopped him. Vetta always knew how to play her cards, especially after wild couplings. “What is it?”

She arranged her clothes, mentally preparing the request. “The new slave.”

His eyes darkened. “What about her?”

She couldn’t wait to have a session with the daughter of Prince Cone. After being a slave for three years before their escape, Vetta craved revenge, too. Fuck, the craving was enough to give her body another orgasm.

“Can I get a session with her?” she asked, demurely.

“Why do you want to?” He arched his brow.

“Well, she’s your new slave, and I’m your mistress. I wanna get acquainted with her. No heavy stuff, I promise,” she lied.

He nodded curtly in reluctant agreement and headed for the bathroom. “Get out of my room.”

Vetta watched him disappear through the doors. I’ve never spent a night in this room in all the five years I’ve been his mistress, she thought with a pout.

She arranged her clothes and headed out of the room. Well, one step at a time. All in due time.