This can’t be real.

A place this marvelous can’t possibly exist.

Maybe I’m hallucinating because I’ve been bored out of my mind and I’ve just discovered how pleasant it actually can be to have a conversation with James.

I look up at the colorful frescos painted on the dome-shaped ceilings. There are blue skies overhead, even though we’re indoors. And angels are flying above us.

Yep, this can’t get any more like a dream.

I walk to my left. My feet tread on solid marble floors, my flat ballet shoes tapping softly with each step. I walk around the big, chunky wooden table, dragging my finger over the grainy surface. This is such a vivid, life-like dream.

I approach the wall, one among many that are lined with rich, dark-brown shelves. I reach out my index finger and put it on a leather spine. As I pull the book out, dust flies into the air and into my nostrils. Automatically, my eyes shut and I sneeze.

Wait a minute, books in dreams don’t make you sneeze, do they? Is it even possible to sneeze while I’m dreaming?

I hear a low chuckle behind me. Prince James.

“Nobody ever comes here,” he says, “so Albert has been focusing his attention elsewhere. He would’ve been embarrassed to know there’s so much dust here it made you sneeze. He never would’ve taken you here on his tour.”

See what I mean?

He’s pleasant. Perfectly nice.

Weird, right?

Okay, so the sneeze has confirmed that I’m not dreaming.

But maybe I’ve crossed over into another dimension? Because here, Prince James is actually a nice guy, and this library is so big and full of books it’s not even funny. My usual library doesn’t even have one-tenth of the books here.

There have to be tons of shelves here, and they all stretch from the floor to the ceiling. It’s not like they’re empty either—each shelf is so jammed full of books I’d have to use a little force to take one out.

“What kind of books do you have here?” I ask.

“All kinds. Too many for me to list everything. You’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

“How many of them have you read?”

The prince chuckles. “I don’t know. I used to spend a lot of time here, but these days I’m too busy working to do that.”

“Can I come here on my own?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

“Oh my god, thank you!” I exclaim. Seriously, he’s being such a great guy today.

“You’re welcome.”

I scan the books in front of me, and my eyes land on a blue spine on one of the higher shelves.

“Is that a first-edition copy of The Great Gatsby?” I ask.

I look to my right and see a wooden ladder, the kind that slides over bookshelves to help people reach the books at the top. The local library at Willowdale has one, so I know exactly how to use it.

I grab the ladder and pull, sending dust particles flying everywhere as the ladder slides along the metal rail. I climb up the rungs and—oh my god—see an actual first copy of my favorite novel of all time.

Gently, I pry it loose from the other books on the shelf. It’s an old copy, obviously, and it looks pleasantly ancient. It smells a little musty and the pages have yellowed a little. It has aged well.

As more dust from the book tickles my nostrils, I realize another sneeze is coming. I can’t stop it. But I can’t let go of this book, even though I probably need my hands to hold on to the ladder, unless I want to fall on my ass.

Before my brain comes up with a solution, my body lets out a sneeze and I lose my balance. I can probably save myself if I threw the book away and grab onto the ladder, but this is the freaking first edition of The Great Gatsby.

I start to drop backward, and I close my eyes, preparing myself for the impact. But instead of falling onto the cold, hard marble floor, I remain in place. When I open my eyes, I’m still holding the book in both hands and in front of me are shelves lined with books.

Something’s propping me up. Something warm around my waist. James’ strong hands.

“Be careful,” he says calmly, as if he hasn’t just rescued me from a painful fall.

But then again, he’s a prince. Maybe he goes around slaying dragons and saving princesses. Maybe this is all in a day’s work for him.

“Thank you, Sir,” I say.

Wait a minute. His face is about at the same level as my butt right now.

“I’m fine now,” I say, self-consciousness creeping into my mind. “It’s safe to let go.”

“No, it’s not. There are other old, dusty books up there, and you’ve already sneezed twice,” he says.

My cheeks grow hot as I realize the precarious position I’m in.

Here I am, with Prince James right behind me, just like he was in the garden a few days ago. But this time it’s worse—not just because his face is right behind my butt, but also because I have nowhere to go.

Back in the garden, I could’ve put down the cup at any time and walk away. I didn’t—which has been a source of embarrassment—but I could’ve.

Right now, I have about one foot of space on the rung of a ladder to stand on.

But he’s right. There are still so many books I want to look at, and I could lose my balance again.

“Um, don’t you want to take a look at the books yourself?” I ask, hoping he’ll get distracted and walk away.

“Nah, I have a good view from here,” he says.

I don’t have to turn around to know he has that cocky, mocking smirk on his face.

I try to turn my attention back to the books, but I can’t ignore his hands, which are still on my waist. I don’t really need this much protection from some old books, but if I’m perfectly honest, I don’t want him to leave either.

He’s only touching my waist, but it’s like there are tendrils of desire stretching from his hands to wrap around the rest of my body, running over my neck, my breasts, my legs, and ending up in my center.

I curse whoever filled the wardrobe in my bedroom full of dresses. I’m not usually a dress kind of girl, but I have no other choice. Other than those, my only other option is to wear floor-length ball gowns, and those are worse.

I understand the regular female guests in this palace might need these fancy dresses and gowns, but normally I live in my jeans, except for special occasions.

The clothes I wore when I arrived here have disappeared from my bedroom, probably because they’re really dirty from the mud. They haven’t reappeared yet, but I expect they will in a few days, unless the palace staff deems them too old and ratty for me to wear.

“Since you seem to like it so much here, maybe it’ll be easier to find you from now on,” James says suddenly, his low voice reverberating in this massive library.

“Can I also bring some books into my room?” I ask.

“Like I said, you can do what you want, as long as you follow the rules. But you haven’t always followed the rules, have you?”

“What do you mean, Sir?” My heart starts to race as I notice the hint of a threat in his words. What is he talking about?

“I mean you’re not always a good girl, are you, Rosemary?” James runs his hands down, over the curve of my hips, until he touches my knees.

The moment the prince’s hand lands on my skin, my desire rises to the surface, reminding me of how I yearn for him when I’m alone in my bedroom at night.

The prince penetrates my thoughts so completely that I can’t sleep unless I soothe the aching between my legs with my fingers, even though it never truly goes away. Fantasizing about the prince until my body shudders in the darkness has become my sleeping pill.

“You’re not answering me, sweetheart,” the prince says. “Let’s try another question then. After our little encounter in the garden, did you have to change your panties?”

I stand still like one of statues in this palace, but I know I’m not fooling anybody.

Prince James knows that I heard him, and I just don’t know how to respond. He also apparently knows about how I ran straight to my bedroom after breakfast just to change. This is not the first time that I feel like he knows things about me that he’s not supposed to.

“Answer me, Rosemary,” he says darkly. “Did you, or did you not have to change your panties?”

“No,” I lie. I can’t just admit something like that, can I?

“I know you’re lying. I’ll ask you one more time. Did you have to change your panties that morning?”

“Y—yes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir,” I repeat.

“Good girl. You were so soaked you must’ve had to wring them out,” he says as his hands travel up my thighs, pushing the hem of my dress further and further up. “But I’ll have to punish you for trying to lie to me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I say, feeling my core clench.

I hate the way he can manipulate my body with only his words. Still, I can’t help but want to follow his orders when he’s talking to me like this, like he already owns me.

“That reminds me, I should also punish you for making me repeat myself in my office your first night here,” he says, in a voice dripping with lust. He sounds like a predator out for blood, and he’s got his eyes set on me.

I say nothing. My mind is blank. All my energy must’ve gone to the nerve endings on my skin, because they’re hyper-sensitive now.

The prince’s hands have reached the top of my legs, and he’s touching my pussy over my panties. Without even thinking, I move my feet further apart, giving him better access to the most intimate part of me.

I’m horrified when I realize what I’ve done, but there’s no time to correct my stance, because the prince’s hands quickly move in to fill the space that I’ve made for him.

As a light shudder runs through my body, I remember something.

“Sir, may I please put the book back on the shelf?” I ask softly, my breathing ragged with desire.

“Of course,” he says, “you don’t want to damage it like you did with the teacup, do you?”

“No, Sir,” I say, half-sighing.

“Put it back if you want. I’ll wait.” The prince stops moving his fingers, but he rests his palm over my pussy, and I can feel the heat from his skin.

When I reach up to put the old, precious book where it belongs, my hips roll and my pussy brushes against James’ palm. Even over the fabric of my panties, the pressure feels incredible.

I didn’t expect this burst of pleasure, and I haven’t prepared myself for its effects. My mouth opens and a moan slides out, echoing in this big, cavernous space.

I quickly shut my mouth again, embarrassed by my own wanton behavior.

“There’s no need to get embarrassed, sweetheart,” the prince says. “That’s a sexy noise that you just made, and I’d love to hear you make more of it.”

The prince hooks his finger into the waist of my panties and pulls down. They fall down my legs and hang around my ankles, all twisted up.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he says as he runs his hands up my thighs and pulls my hips back so my ass is sticking out.

When he starts to trail kisses up my legs, my knees go weak and I realize I should’ve listened to him.

Quickly, I grab an upper rung of the ladder with both hands. My knuckles are turning white from how hard I’m holding on. I’m starting to feel tingles in my pussy, even though the prince isn’t even touching me there—not yet.

“Good girl,” he says.

God, it drives me so crazy when he talks to me like that. It’s like I’m his possession to order and control; to praise and punish.

James pushes the fabric of my dress up as his lips travel up my thighs, bunching it up. The fabric gathers and hangs down from my waist, highlighting the fact that I’m voluntarily pushing my ass out, presenting myself to the prince.

Just as I consider retaining whatever dignity I have left and pulling away from him, James’ breath falls on my pussy lips, hot and tantalizing.

And I forget everything. Everything except for those lips, and how close they are to my own lower lips.

“You smell delicious, sweetheart,” Prince James says as he audibly sucks in a deep breath.

I’m mortified. I’ve never had anyone even see my most intimate part, and now the prince has his face about an inch away from it, inhaling its scent like it’s a flower.

But as much as I want to stop this, I can’t bring myself to. It feels too damn good. I keep telling myself I should stop, but then I let the moment linger for a little longer, and the sinful sensations make me forget about my good intentions.

My mind has left the control center. The prince has happily taken over, and he’s now the one with dominion over my body.

“I’m sure you’ll taste just as good,” he says.

Then, something hot and gentle touches my pussy the way nothing has ever touched me before. It’s wet and warm; it’s soft and firm. It takes me a while to realize…

Oh god, the prince is basically French-kissing my pussy lips right now.

James gives me no time to wallow in my shock and embarrassment, though. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing with his lips and tongue right now, but it feels heavenly.

I mean, I’ve seen men give women oral attention before. I do have access to the Internet. And I have been to a BDSM club, even though it was just that once, when I met Prince James for the first time.

An image flashes in my mind, of James with half his face covered by a plain black mask.

Nobody knew who he was that night. But he could’ve revealed himself if he wanted to. He could’ve demanded the VIP seat, the red carpet, and maybe even a few submissive girls to entertain him—in short, the royal treatment.

But no, he came as a regular man.

Why?

And why me?

I know I’m not unattractive, but there were so many sexy, beautiful girls in that place, and I wasn’t doing anything special. And yet he saw me and he wanted me.

He still wants me now—very much—judging by the way he’s devouring me right now. My breaths are more like gasps now, and my moans are echoing in this library. I just hope the prince is right about nobody ever coming in here.

I can’t see Prince James right now, but I can just picture him behind me, his powerful arms around my thighs, forcing me to stay in place for him.

I grip the ladder harder as arousal builds up within me. I can feel it. I’m close. I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the release that I know is just around the corner.

Then… nothing.

James’ arms are still wrapped around my thighs, but I can’t feel his lips and tongue anymore. I can hear his heavy breaths, though, and feel them on my skin, teasing me.

“Sir…?” I whimper.

“Yes, Rosemary. What is it that you want?”

“Sir, I…” My sentence hangs in the air. I know what I want and I want to ask for it, but I can’t bring myself to.

“Tell me, what do you want?” James leans just close enough to let his lips graze lightly against my pussy as he speaks, making me gasp.

“I want you to… finish what you were doing, Sir,” I say softly.

“And what was that?” he asks, prolonging my torment. I can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“You were… You were eating me out, Sir,” I say again, my pussy throbbing, both from the prince’s oral attention and from the cocky, dominating way he’s talking to me right now.

“Good girl,” he says, in the kind of voice that makes me want to please him even more. “But before that, let’s get your punishment over and done with, shall we?”

“Uh, punishment, Sir?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest. What could he possibly mean by that?

I’ve seen Subs at the club get punished by their Doms, using whips and floggers… Is that what the prince is talking about?I don’t know if I can take that, but the thought sends a thrill down my spine.

“Yes, for making me repeat myself, and for trying to lie to me,” he says. “Now, let go of the ladder.”

I do as he says, and he picks me up into his arms, making me shriek in surprise. He stands me up on my feet, then he sits on a chair by the big wooden desk, on which lie a few stacks of books.

“Lie across my lap,” he says darkly.

As if hypnotized, I step forward and put my belly across James’ lap. I know what’s coming. I’ve seen it before. I’ve fantasized about it, but I still can’t quite believe it’s actually about to happen now.

As the prince touches my ass through the fabric of my dress, I wince.

“Relax,” the prince says, chuckling. “You’re going to like it.”

Despite the prince’s words, my muscles tense as he pulls the hem of my dress up over my waist.

Naked and vulnerable, all I can do is lie here and wait, while the heat from the prince’s lustful gaze sears into my flesh. I can feel his anticipation. The thought of inflicting pain on my body excites him.

I place my fingers on the marble floor to balance myself. The prince’s shadow moves as he raises his hand in the air. I brace myself for the impact.

Smack!

The prince’s palm lands on my ass cheek, making it hot with pain. I whimper.

Why did I ever think this would feel good?

Maybe I’m not cut out to be a Submissive after all. I should tell the prince I’m not what he thinks I am.

As I part my lips, the prince rubs the part of my ass that’s stinging in pain. His hand feels so gentle and warm. At his soothing touch, the heat from the pain turns into pleasure that seeps through my skin and spreads throughout my body.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, sweetheart?” James asks.

“N—no, Sir.”

“You liked it, didn’t you?”

I remain quiet. Did I…?

“You don’t have to say anything. I can tell by how wet you’re getting. I can see your pussy glistening with your juices,” he says.

I close my eyes as his hand rubs my ass, my thighs, and my pussy. I feel naked; transparent. Even without me saying anything, he knows how aroused I am.

“That was for making me repeat myself,” the prince says.

He adjusts my body so I’m lying across his lap diagonally, with my ear right by his waist and my legs straddling his powerful thigh.

“And this,” he says as he raises his hand, “is for trying to tell me you’re not wet when you’re already soaked.”

Smack!

Prince James’ palm make a loud noise as it makes contact with my ass. It stings, but this time my body forgets the pain quickly and anticipates the pleasure. I can’t believe how easy it is for the prince to train my body.

When he touches my ass again where it hurts, I realize I’ve been rubbing myself against his thigh, grinding my clit against him.

“Don’t stop,” the prince says when he notices my body becoming still. “I love watching you like that, squirming and wriggling, desperate to come. Do it again. Do it for me.”

I follow his order, rubbing myself against his thigh, my juices staining his pants—what would the palace staff think when they see these pants in the laundry basket?—and my hands grabbing onto the leg of the chair for balance.

The thought crosses my mind that I’m behaving with no shame, like a common whore, like some kind of an animal. But that thought is gone in an instant.

Once again, as the prince rubs my pussy and my ass cheeks, I feel my climax within grasp, but he suddenly stops me with a firm hand over my lower back.

“Looks like you were about to come, Rosemary.” From the way the prince speaks, he obviously knows I was.

“Yes, Sir,” I say with frustration, having had two potential orgasms ruined already.

“Did I say you could come?”

“I—I didn’t know I needed your permission, Sir,” I say.

“And now you know.”

“May I come, Sir?” I ask, mimicking the Submissives I’ve seen at the club.

“Yes,” he says. I’m about to start moving my hips again when he adds, “But only if you beg me to fuck you. I’ll make you come with my cock inside you. I want to feel your pussy muscles grabbing onto my cock. I want you to cream all over me.”

My ears grow hot from the dirty words the prince has just said. I’m already dripping onto his expensive pants, but I know I’m only getting wetter.

“Sir…”

I know the words to say. I know what I want. I know this is the right time. It has never felt this right, and it probably won’t ever feel this right again. But I can’t quite speak them out.

“Yes, Rosemary? Were you just about to beg me to fuck you? All you have to do is say the word.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say, hoping he’ll take that as a complete answer.

“Yes what?” he asks as his fingers draw lazy circles up and down the back of my thighs.

“Yes, Sir, please fuck me. I beg you,” I say in frustration.

“Good girl,” he says.

He wastes no time in pushing me up on my feet. He bends me over the big desk. I can hear his zipper sliding down, and his pants falling down around his ankles, his belt buckle clanging against the hard marble floor.

My heart is hammering so hard against my rib cage that my whole body is shaking. But it’s not fear; it’s excitement and anticipation. It’s desire. I can feel it just out of reach, the satisfaction I seek. And I know the wait won’t be long now.

“Spread your legs, sweetheart,” the prince says as he kicks my feet apart. “It’ll help stretch your tight, virgin pussy so it won’t hurt as much.”

I do as he says and feel something hot and hard sliding over my pussy lips, making me moan every time it brushes over my opening.

“You want me inside you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Sir. Please,” I say, softly and desperately.

The prince presses himself against my opening and pushes inside, forcing me open bit by bit. He’s so thick I feel like I’m about to tear in two, but I hold on. I push through the pain, like I always do.

“This is going to hurt,” the prince says as he puts his hands on my waist, “but you’re going to be okay.”

He pulls himself back and slides back in, getting a little deeper with every thrust. This hurts like a bitch. My little gasps and moans have turned into whimpers and cries.

“Hold on, sweetheart, we’re almost there,” the prince says, his voice hoarse with lust.

When I feel his balls press against my pussy lips, I know he has buried himself to the hilt inside me. He has taken my virginity, even though I told him it wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says, his strong hands grabbing my hips, hard.

He owns me completely now. He’s claiming my body as his own, and I’m letting him. Worse, I begged him to.

I should feel defeated and ashamed. But instead, the way he bends me to his will just makes me want him more. The fact that he has taken my virginity only makes me want to give him more of me.

I’ve never felt anything like this before, but I love this, the feeling of being completely dominated by a strong, powerful man.

James’ cock feels like a blade inside me at first, carving pain into my flesh. But as he slides in and out of me, again, the pain turns into pleasure, and my cries turn into breathy moans again.

“I told you it was going to be okay. You’re liking this now, aren’t you, sweetheart?” the prince asks as he leans down, his hard chest pressing me down against the desk, his hand pulling my hair so he can speak right into my ear.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer honestly.

“Yes what? You like my cock in your pussy?”

“Yes, Sir, I… I like your cock in my pussy, Sir,” I say. I close my eyes from embarrassment, knowing the prince is watching me.

“Tell me you’re mine now,” he growls in my ear as he grabs the hair at the back of my skull.

“I’m yours, Sir,” I say as I give in completely, letting the prince do what he wants with my body.

“Good girl,” he says, “I’m going to fuck you hard now, so hard you’ll find yourself craving me at night, so hard you’ll be ruined for other men.”

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper in submission, my tits and cheek squished against the surface of the desk.

The prince pulls his body upright, yanking my hair up with him so I’m arching with my head pulled all the way back.

He puts a finger against my clit and starts to slam into me, rubbing my clit with every thrust. As his movements get faster and more frantic, the sensations push me to the brink and over the edge.

I come with a violent shudder, my body shaking involuntarily as my muscles tense. As the orgasm overtakes me, I feel the prince’s cock inside me grow a little bigger and harder. When it starts to twitch, warmth floods within me, and I know he has spent himself inside me, truly branding me with his masculine claim.

“You’re all mine now, sweetheart,” the prince says victoriously as he pulls my hair back and grinds into me one last time.