I Exist For His Pleasure (Interracial Harem BDSM Erotica) (eBook, ePUB)
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Jamie is a new actress who gets an amazing, strange offer. What she thinks is an acting gig is actually a one-way ticket to a sexy and handsome middle eastern prince's harem! When she causes a massive faux pas at one of the prince's lavish events, the prince is forced to take matters into his own hands and remind Jamie of her place via chains, a whip, and his own commanding voice. This 10,000 word erotica short story features BDSM, bondage, and a woman learning her place at the feet of a powerful and darkly sexy prince. Adults only. -EXCERPT- "No, no," Prince Fahim says, stepping closer. "Let...
Jamie is a new actress who gets an amazing, strange offer. What she thinks is an acting gig is actually a one-way ticket to a sexy and handsome middle eastern prince's harem! When she causes a massive faux pas at one of the prince's lavish events, the prince is forced to take matters into his own hands and remind Jamie of her place via chains, a whip, and his own commanding voice. This 10,000 word erotica short story features BDSM, bondage, and a woman learning her place at the feet of a powerful and darkly sexy prince. Adults only.
-EXCERPT-
"No, no," Prince Fahim says, stepping closer. "Let me see you, my pet. Would you refuse me that?"
I look down at myself, slowly burning to a bright red. His tone is so commanding that I can't even think of denying him. How could I? With a great effort, I force my arms down to let myself be put on display. Just him watching me is enough to cause me to shift in my place, sliding my thighs together as I grow moist. Like most men, he's clearly liking what he sees, but unlike most, he's not drooling all over himself like a moron, either.
He's taking his time as he examines my body, nodding with silent appreciation at this or that curve. He's like a connoisseur, reviewing me like a wine critic would a fine vintage. It might've been creepy if it was some sleazeball at a bar, but Prince Fahim did it with a strange class that made it seem almost respectable that he was objectifying me.
As he steps around me, I see the bed, and my eyes widen at all of the items on it. Chains, paddles, and whips, all in gleaming metal and black leather, sitting there and waiting to be used. I feel myself tensing up immediately. What exactly was he planning here? Was this Prince Fahim's idea of punishment? I don't know what I was expecting instead. Extra chores, maybe? Being grounded for two weeks. Being sent home, even. Definitely not this. A big paddle was not even in the darkest recesses of my mind.
"Um," I say, and start to say more, but the prince shushes me.
"You speak when spoken to, my pet," he says. "Not before. Do you understand?"
I frown at that. That's a step too far, isn't it? Not even speaking just because he says I can't. Even then, the sense of power he exudes... I feel it's only natural to obey what he tells me to do. It seems perfectly natural to do everything he tells me to do. Maybe he's using some weird magic on me to make me feel this way, I don't know, but there's something strangely liberating in the thought of accepting his will.
"Yes," I say, finally, and feel a sense of joy at the sound of the word. "I understand."
He waits, and I realize what he's waiting for. There's no disconnect between the realization and my words, "Milord. I understand, milord."
He nods at that, and the praise sends a rush of giddy pleasure up my spine, "Very good. Now, you had a question for me?"
Oh, right. All of the stuff on the bed. I had almost forgotten it in his presence, as if they hardly mattered as long as he stayed close, spoke to me in that voice that demanded my full and utter attention. Now that he was asking me to speak, though, it felt like a crime to refuse him an answer. Besides, remembering the whips and chains, the worry returned to me. What were they for, anyway?
"Um, yes, milord," I say. "What, well." I pause, gather myself, and try again. "What is it that you intend to do with me, milord?"
Prince Fahim chuckles, as if the answer were the most natural thing in the world. "Why, whatever it is I wish to, my pet. Isn't that obvious?"
-EXCERPT-
"No, no," Prince Fahim says, stepping closer. "Let me see you, my pet. Would you refuse me that?"
I look down at myself, slowly burning to a bright red. His tone is so commanding that I can't even think of denying him. How could I? With a great effort, I force my arms down to let myself be put on display. Just him watching me is enough to cause me to shift in my place, sliding my thighs together as I grow moist. Like most men, he's clearly liking what he sees, but unlike most, he's not drooling all over himself like a moron, either.
He's taking his time as he examines my body, nodding with silent appreciation at this or that curve. He's like a connoisseur, reviewing me like a wine critic would a fine vintage. It might've been creepy if it was some sleazeball at a bar, but Prince Fahim did it with a strange class that made it seem almost respectable that he was objectifying me.
As he steps around me, I see the bed, and my eyes widen at all of the items on it. Chains, paddles, and whips, all in gleaming metal and black leather, sitting there and waiting to be used. I feel myself tensing up immediately. What exactly was he planning here? Was this Prince Fahim's idea of punishment? I don't know what I was expecting instead. Extra chores, maybe? Being grounded for two weeks. Being sent home, even. Definitely not this. A big paddle was not even in the darkest recesses of my mind.
"Um," I say, and start to say more, but the prince shushes me.
"You speak when spoken to, my pet," he says. "Not before. Do you understand?"
I frown at that. That's a step too far, isn't it? Not even speaking just because he says I can't. Even then, the sense of power he exudes... I feel it's only natural to obey what he tells me to do. It seems perfectly natural to do everything he tells me to do. Maybe he's using some weird magic on me to make me feel this way, I don't know, but there's something strangely liberating in the thought of accepting his will.
"Yes," I say, finally, and feel a sense of joy at the sound of the word. "I understand."
He waits, and I realize what he's waiting for. There's no disconnect between the realization and my words, "Milord. I understand, milord."
He nods at that, and the praise sends a rush of giddy pleasure up my spine, "Very good. Now, you had a question for me?"
Oh, right. All of the stuff on the bed. I had almost forgotten it in his presence, as if they hardly mattered as long as he stayed close, spoke to me in that voice that demanded my full and utter attention. Now that he was asking me to speak, though, it felt like a crime to refuse him an answer. Besides, remembering the whips and chains, the worry returned to me. What were they for, anyway?
"Um, yes, milord," I say. "What, well." I pause, gather myself, and try again. "What is it that you intend to do with me, milord?"
Prince Fahim chuckles, as if the answer were the most natural thing in the world. "Why, whatever it is I wish to, my pet. Isn't that obvious?"
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