Story for the Day: Prince Lamir

Here is a little bit about Prince Lamir of Lucentia.

Lamir’s Footman
                A new footman was brought to the palace in Lucentia for Prince Lamir’s inspection. He had not expected the business to detain him by any means. It was to be a simple investigation one to make certain his preferences were obeyed and one to convey what was expected of her service. The last one had not done for him: she was spiritless and obedient to be banal. Lamir required someone with more animation, someone who knew when to give offense and incite his infamous temper, and someone who would bear his punishments with a closed mouth. He would take someone who cried when beaten but not someone who remonstrated against his sometimes vulgar and scalding reprimands. Beauty, however, was his first object. He felt it was wrong to beat someone who had already been punished by nature, and someone with such splendor and magnificence greater than that of his own deserved every blow his hand or lash could bestow.
                He sat in his chambers in wait of his newest attendant when he received a message: there was a delay at the Thellisian border, which increased the prince’s dour and strict humour, and when he was to be attending his guests from Frewyn, a hindrance would tarnish all his designs for the morning. He decided he would remain until he was in receipt of his newest assistant. He stood before the vanity mirror adjusting his long flaxen mane when a knock at the door to convey that his object was ready to be delivered. He called for the door to be opened and in came one of the royal messengers followed by a tall, veiled woman.
                She was brought before him, bid to bow in honour of her new master, and her veil was removed. She was graced with astonishing beauty: her eyes were soft and low, her lips were plump and sleekly shaped, her nose was sloped, her neck was slender, her dark hair was long and finely combed. Here was an article of majesty, and she now belonged to the princedom.  
                Lamir made a momentary glance at her and then flouted his messenger. “Why was there a delay?” he said in a vicious tone, keeping his features composed.
                “Thellisian officials, Your Highness,” said the messenger, bowing low. “The guards on the Imperial Highway wanted to examine the documents for her.” He held out the purchase report, and once the prince snatched it from his hand, he bowed again and backed away.
                Lamir scrutinized the documents and made certain everything was in order. He observed the price paid for such an exquisite woman. “Has she been touched?” he firmly asked.  
                “No, Your Highness. Just as you requested.”
                The prince deemed the price then to be a worthy one, for who would pay one hundred silver, a small fortune by Lucentian standards, for a bird with clipped feathers. “Leave us,” he demanded, waving his messenger off.
                Due supplication was given, doors were closed and locked, and Lamir was alone with his new purchase. He circled the woman, inspecting her with a conscious gaze: her figure was upright, her limbs graceful, her poise elegant. He deemed her appearance worthy of his company, but would her temper answer and would her character suit his. He neared her and he noted that she did not incline her head or supplicate herself, neither had she looked up nor did she flinch at his abrupt closeness.  Her perfect stillness conveyed her fearlessness, and Lamir was immensely pleased.
                 He sought to address her and examine her smooth complexion with his fingertips. He raised his hand to her face and grazed her fine cheek with the back of his forefinger. Her lithe flesh warmed with a blush when he touched her. The crimson trail followed his hand toward her ear and down to the nap of her neck when upon reaching hitherto stopped at a mark branded into her flesh.    
                “A Marked?” the prince said in heated disappointment. He gripped her chin and pulled her head back to expose the imperfection carved into her flesh. He pressed his fingers into her cheeks and craned her features upward. “I requested someone with intelligence,” he hissed, marking the sparkle in her downcast eyes.
                “My empire says I am ignorant,” said the woman in a quiet but steady tone. “But I am able to do many things, My Lord.” She looked at his hand and felt how tightly against her jaw he held.
                “I expect you are. Otherwise I would not have paid so much for damaged property.” Lamir tossed the documents onto the vanity and sighed in frustration. He was hoping at least her more desirable assets had not been destroyed. “Remove your cloak,” he commanded her.
                She obeyed and took the silken fabric from around her shoulders. Her body was tall and straight, her chest high, her waist cinched, and her hips wide where her legs were delicate and trim. She was fashioned for worship and her benefactor was all appreciation. He stood behind her, pressing his chest against her back, and inhaled the scent of sandalwood combed into her hair. Her cloak was taken from her and her limbs were carefully caressed.    
                “You may be ignorant,” Lamir murmured in her ear, “but beautiful all the same.”             
                “Beauty matters little in Thellis,” she said softly, her breath hastening as she felt her master assessing her hips with his hands.
                “Does it?”
                He made him no answer and endeavored with respect to tranquilize herself while being touched by one who would dominate her.
                Lamir peered over her from behind and glanced down at the valley between her ripened breasts. He must at once he must examine every part of her faultless form and he reached beneath her arm to grasp what he would be biting later. “I paid well for one of the emperor’s servants,” he purred in her ear, feeling her knees bend as he massaged her breast. “It is a disgrace for one so beautiful to have been left untasted.”   
                “I am a Marked,” she gasped. “No one is permitted to touch me other than my own.”
                “You are not in Thellis. You will be used well here, inpala.
                She did not recognize the endearing Lucentian phrase but the notion of being useful whether in service to the prince or service to the princedom was agreeable to her. Someone would feel her valuable and helpful, whatever that may mean to her new owner, and she was prepared to fulfill the task but felt she would disgrace the one who had saved her from a life of idleness in the cages of the Thellisian palace by debasing him with her attendance. “Even if I were considered . . .” she began to say, but was silenced by Lamir’s breath cooling her neck and his fingers tracing the lines of her brand. She felt his lips abrade the tip of her ear and she swallowed her anxieties in one conscious gasp.
                “You enjoy being touched,” Lamir remarked, watching her curl into his slow motions. Her soft moans intrigued him and he was obliged to grip her harder to prove that her place would not be so easily earned. “You will enjoy my hand on you whether I chose to give it in pleasure or in pain. I have no preference, but your obedience will decide how you receive me.” He held her chin up and he learned down to her, their parted mouths barely touching. “I will see you smile.”
                His order was kindly made but it was disobeyed: she recollected herself from wilting into his arms and stood straight once more, looking down. This conduct would not be borne: he had saved her from uselessness and obscurity, he had brought her into a palace of immense wealth to be his personal attendant, and her inability to obey a simple order was her gratitude.  


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