Undressing the princess
725 Words
The Princess’s face paled.
She searched the Prince’s eyes once more, hoping—praying—that he was bluffing. Finding no trace of deceit, she swallowed hard.
“Prince,” she said, terror threading her voice.
He was in no mood to reply. Instead, he hummed softly near her ear, savouring the way she fit into his arms. Her presence mesmerised him, completed him. He wanted a taste. Now he knew—this was the solution to everything.
Something feral stirred within him.
He wanted more.
“Prince,” she pleaded again.
Still—no response. No words. No mercy.
She prayed he was only testing her. This could not be real. She was unmarried. The very thought was unthinkable.
He must be a devil to ask for such a punishment.
The Prince stepped back, standing straight before her.
“Does my love need help removing her clothes?” he asked calmly.
Her mind recoiled.
Love. Clothes.
Nothing made sense anymore.
She looked at him. The smile on his face made it painfully clear—he was enjoying her distress.
She wanted to run. Or disappear. Or both.
Her gaze darted around—no one. No saviour.
Lowering her eyes, she whispered, “Please, Your Highness.”
“Shh,” he said, pressing a finger to her lips.
What should have been a simple touch turned deliberate. His finger traced her upper lip, then the lower, as though studying her.
Her heart pounded so loudly she thought it might betray her thoughts. Otherwise, she would have pushed him away and demanded an explanation.
“Your Majesty,” she whispered again.
“I should help you out of your clothes,” he murmured.
She froze. A single movement would place her lips against his. Gathering every ounce of control, she steadied herself.
“I will do it,” she said, summoning strength she did not know she had.
The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them.
The look in his eyes was predatory—as if she were prey awaiting the final strike.
Though she knew she must remove her garments, fear overtook her, and she clutched them tighter.
The Prince noticed—and smirked.
Her legs begged her to flee, but refused to obey.
“It seems the Princess has other plans,” he murmured near her ear.
He reached for the white drape and let it slip silently to the floor—as if it had never belonged on her at all.
Numbness spread through her.
Now it was only the Prince and his prey.
He took his time with her gown, his expression one of dissatisfaction—as though the fabric offended him by hiding her. He tugged it away and studied her reaction.
She instantly covered herself with her hands.
Shameless man, she thought bitterly.
“Princess,” he said softly, licking his lips, “remove your hands. I need to take the rest off.”
Bound by rank and circumstance, she said nothing—though every instinct screamed defiance.
Any woman would come willingly, she thought. So why humiliate me like this?
The answer struck her.
He hates me.
For defying him. For daring to cross blades with him. For challenging his authority.
Impatient now, he pried her hands away and removed the remaining fabric himself.
A shudder ran down her spine.
Never in her life had she been stripped of dignity like this.
She shut her eyes tightly, wishing the moment away.
For the Prince, time ceased.
He traced her form with reverence and hunger—as though admiring a rare, priceless creation. He feared breaking her. And yet, the desire to do so pulsed within him.
He touched her hair, her face. Lifting her chin, he found her eyes still closed.
He kissed her eyelids gently.
Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
What had once been ordinary now felt like a sanctuary—one he never wished her to leave.
He removed his own clothing without hesitation and stood bare before her.
She turned her face away, eyes tightly shut.
His quiet laughter filled the room.
If she trembles at this, he thought, how will she survive what comes next?
Pulling her close, he drew the covers over them both and wrapped himself around her—
Not letting her go.
- Writer
