Not for Sale: A Prince's Tale (eBook)

$1.99
58 pages | eBook | 6x9"
Date of publication: 08/07/2015
  • ISBN: 978-1-941984-97-0
  • Model: 11167 words

Fireborn Publishing Main Page

Heat Rating: 3 Flames

 

The prince loves women of all shapes and sizes, but purely on a physical level--until he meets his match. Unfortunately, to live happily ever after, he has to overcome a challenge that may have disastrous consequences.

As the only son of the ruling monarchs, the prince has a responsibility to wed and father an heir to the throne. Unfortunately the prince is very distracted by all women. Until one day, he loses his heart, but it's not as easy as just getting married. The pair has to pass a very public test or they will not live happily ever after.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The prince meandered through the market place with anticipation and used the opportunity to avoid his parents' most recurrent demand, that he produce a legitimate heir. Dust clung to his sandals. His tunic of pale mauve linen draped his muscular torso. Smells of roasting meat, venison intermingled with boar, filled his nostrils. His fingers had a mind of their own, and reached to touch the fabrics of the textile vendor. Absentminded, he stroked the raw silks and fine linens. Dressmakers and tailors, who catered to the rich, would comb the stalls early mornings on caravan days for new materials. After the textiles, there was the stall with gaudy trinkets and then the spices. The colors and the smells of warm brown coriander, vivid green cilantro, and spicy yellow ground mustard filled his nose and captured his eyes.

Each of the merchants would bow their heads low as he passed. He would acknowledge them with a nod and smile. Vendors loved the son of the king; he knew their names and always paid a fair price. Before he arrived at his favorite fruit stand, the old, gnarled woman had preselected a delicate, blemish-free apricot. She thrust it at him without pomp. Juice ran down his chin as he bit into the perfect apricot. He kissed the soft papery cheek to thank her. The crone cackled at the kindness.

"This was the most perfect apricot yet," said the Prince to the wrinkled Valencia.

She bobbed and chortled at his compliment.

The prince touched his fingers to his forehead and saluted the two grizzled old castle guards who were patrolling the market at a slow pace. There hadn't been an incident in years, since the kingdom was at peace. Every once in a while, though, there was an altercation in the marketplace that needed some attention. Mauricio and Plato were retired king's guards who were now responsible for keeping the peace amongst the merchants.

The slave block called to him and his feet followed the familiar route without much thought. He entered the square with the raised platform in the center. Tied by the neck, with hands secured behind them, was a long line of mostly naked slaves. They hailed from various nations, some victims of a lost battle, others traded or sold. The slave trade was an integral part of the flourishing agrarian society. The men streamed down the right side of the platform, and the women and children down the left. The prince didn't need workers for the field. To him, the slaves were playthings or welcome distractions. In a land that honored monogamy, only his father the king was allowed formal license to keep more than one woman. Of course the king, who tended to extremes, kept a very full harem to meet his every whim.

The prince ignored the males and headed straight for the females. The flesh traders knew him and let him examine their stock before auction. He bought one to two slaves a week, so he was considered a good client. First, he would walk up and down the line. His eyes would devour the sight of their flesh. Their nostrils would flare in fright, like a horse catching the scent of a wolf. Most of the women kept their eyes downcast.

Sometimes it was hard to tell the color of their skin because they were so covered in dirt. He cared less if they were black, yellow, red, or fair skinned. The shape of their breasts always caught his attention first and then the curve of their hips. He paced to the end of the line. Then he would do an about-face to return in the direction he came from. On his return stroll he noted finer details; the slimness of a waist, or the firmness of a pair of buttocks, a shapely calf, or slender ankles. The mass of flesh started to become individuals. His breath quickened. He noted one woman was taller than the rest. Almost as tall as he was with a high tight arse and he paused to cup his hand on a cheek to check the firmness. She flinched.

He continued up the line and then stopped dead in his tracks. A pair of buttocks that formed a heart had him riveted to the spot. Above the well-rounded bottom was a slender waist and below were muscular calves and delicate ankles with finely shaped feet. Despite the heat and the dirt, this one held herself erect. Curiosity got the better of him and he grasped her shoulder to turn her towards him. Unlike the other captive, she did not flinch, but shrugged him off. His lips became a straight line of concentration. Spirit was something he liked. A small gesture had the vendor by his side. The man was dark with a white, soot covered turban.

The slaver bowed low, listening to the murmured comments from the prince. To remember his best customers' tastes and cater to their idiosyncrasies was often the key to a sale.

Authors:

About Alyssa Lingers:

After a challenge from a fellow erotica fan to produce something fun, well written, and arousing, I couldn't help but rise to the occasion. The short stories started pouring out. My personal friends responded well to the shorts that I shared with them. This encouraged me to share my writing with a wider audience and see if I could truly arouse others.

For my day job I play matchmaker as a headhunter of braniacs. As an non fiction contributor to a parenting education site, an avid reader, a blogger. and two time NaNaWriMo novelist, I'm ready to take the plunge. My writers' group helped improve my work with insightful critiques. I'm a world traveler who has experienced life and not been afraid to get my hands dirty. Presently I'm perfecting my head stand in yoga. And still playing soccer on Sundays.

For more information, please visit the author's webpage.
For more information, please visit the author's webpage.

Other books by Brenna Lyons- COVER ARTIST:

Other books by Monti Shalosky- EDITOR:

Other books by Alyssa Lingers, Brenna Lyons- COVER ARTIST and Monti Shalosky- EDITOR:

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This book was added to our catalog on Monday 27 April, 2015.

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