Chapter 13: "Gods, I need to save my poor sister before that beast kills her," he thought desperately. But no matter how hard he tried, his body refused to obey. Pain and pleasure held him captive, rendering him immobile. "Somebody… help," he cried, his voice trembling. His hand moved instinctively, pinching his engorged nipples as he gasped at the conflicting sensations. "Oh, by the sky, what's wrong with me!?" he thought, his mind spiraling in a mix of fear, guilt, and helplessness. SLAVE AMIE Amie did her best to ignore the screams. They always made her uncomfortable, reminding her of the sickening things the slave masters did to her at the barn. She simply needed to pick up the bathing oil she had forgotten after running a bath for Princess Aekeira. As she approached the quarters, she heard muffled cries, filled with agony. The cries grew louder as she drew closer. Amie quickened her pace, following the sound until she reached the end of the hallway. She stood outside the closed door of Princess Aekeira's chambers. Wasn't Prince Emeriel the only person in there? Amie opened the door and entered the room. A female figure lay on the bed, facing away from her, writhing in pain. The figure was partially unclothed, with some sort of chest binds around her upper body. Long, jet-black hair surrounded her, her body glistening with sweat. The figure convulsed and let out a loud sob. "Are you alright?" Amie's voice trembled softly as she approached the figure on the bed. Only whimpering sounds answered her. L∆Ŧ€$† Ç♄₳þŧëяŞ ¡η g????l????ovєl????.????оm Amie moved closer to the front of the figure and froze. "Prince Emeriel?" Amie couldn't believe her eyes. She blinked hard to clear her vision. Perhaps cleaning the whole floor of the Westside yesterday with barely any break in between had been a bad idea. I'm definitely seeing things. But even after the third blink, the figure didn't change. It was still Prince Emeriel… as a girl. "Help me," Prince Emeriel cried, his voice strained. Fresh tears filled his eyes. "Somebody… please help me." Right. Amie had almost forgotten about his pain. "Are you sick? How do you feel? Should I fetch the healer?" she asked, turning toward the door. "No, don't call anyone! No one… can… see… me like this," he panted, his hand gripping the cloth wrapped tightly around his chest. "I hurt everywhere. I don't know what's wrong with me." At only nineteen years old, Amie, one of the slaves, was often mocked by the others for being slow-witted. This was likely why she struggled to fully grasp what Prince Emeriel was saying. "I need to inform Madam Livia," she thought to herself, her mind racing. "Hang in there, I'll be back!" Amie exclaimed before swiftly running off, leaving Emeriel alone in his torment. Prince Emeriel panted through another painful spasm that clenched his belly and radiated down to his most intimate areas. Despite his fear of someone discovering his secret and Amie's intention to fetch help, he couldn't muster the energy to panic. The pain was overwhelming, consuming him entirely and leaving no room for anything else. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!