The Alpha and the slave princess

Humiliation

Elara’s POV

I stood in the center of the room the next morning, and memories of the night before didn't leave me. It's even crazier that Julian had called for me again when he saw that I left the room a before he woke up.

My legs were trembling so violently that I thought I might collapse. Julian stood before me, his silver eyes glowing with a cold, terrifying light. The two guards who had dragged me in remained by the door, their faces like stone, their presence making the air in the room feel suffocatingly thick.

Julian didn't look away from me. He didn't even blink. He reached out and wrapped the leather lead tightly around his hand, jerking it just enough to make the silver collar bite into the raw skin of my neck.

"You like the smell of the pits so much, Elara? I warned you yesterday" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You seem to prefer the company of servants to the comfort I have offered you."

"I just went there to see if I could help, I couldn't just be locked in here. Besides, I prefer the company of people who have hearts," I spat, though my voice broke at the end. The image of the whip hitting Ashanti was still flashing behind my eyes.

Julian’s jaw tightened. "More than peoplewho have hearts, I value obedience. And since you have forgotten your place, I think it’s time we start your education from the beginning."

He looked at the guards, then back to me.

"Strip," he said.

The word was so simple, so quiet, that for a moment, I didn't think I had heard him correctly. I stared at him, my mouth falling open slightly. "What?"

"You heard me," Julian said. He took a step closer, his massive frame blotting out the light from the fireplace. "Take off the dress. Every inch of it. Right now."

I felt the blood drain from my face. My heart began to hammer against my ribs with such force that it was painful. I glanced toward the guards. They didn't move. They didn't look away. They stood there, waiting to watch the Princess of Silvermoon humiliate herself.

"No," I whispered, my hands flying to the collar of the red wool dress. "Not in front of them. Please... Julian, don't do this."

"You lost the right to beg the moment you snuck out behind my back for the second time," he growled. He jerked the lead again, forcing me to stumble toward him. "You want to act like a common thief? Then you will be treated like one. I will not have a pet who thinks she can hide things from me. I want to see every bruise, every scar, and every bit of defiance you have left."

"I won't," I said, my voice rising with a desperate, frantic energy. "You can kill me. You can whip me like you did her. But I will not do that."

I saw the change in his eyes. The coldness turned into a white-hot rage. He didn't scream at me, he just moved toward me.

Before I could even gasp, his hand was at the collar of my dress.

"I gave you a choice to keep your dignity," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "You chose to disrespect me. Now, you get nothing."

He gripped the heavy wool fabric with both hands. With a single, violent jerk, I heard the sound of the seams screaming. The dress tore from the neck down to my waist. I let out a cry of shock, my hands scrambling to hold the fabric together, but he was too fast and too strong.

"Stop! Please, stop!" I sobbed, struggling against him.

He ignored my pleas. He grabbed the sleeves and ripped them away, the fabric fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dead bird. I was fighting him now, scratching at his wrists, trying to kick his shins, but it was like trying to fight a mountain. He caught my wrists in one of his massive hands, pinning them behind my back.

With his other hand, he reached for the remaining fabric at my hips.

"Julian, no!"

The rest of the dress was torn away in one brutal motion. I felt the cold air of the room hit my bare skin, but it wasn't nearly as cold as the shame that flooded my soul. I was standing in the middle of the room, naked and shivering, pinned against the chest of the man who had murdered my father.

I looked down at the floor, my hair falling forward to hide my face, but it wasn't enough. I could feel the eyes of the guards on me.

He released my wrists. I immediately dropped to the floor, curling into a ball, trying to cover myself with my arms. I felt small. I felt broken. I felt like the dirt he had washed off me in the dungeon.

"Look at me," Julian commanded.

I didn't move. I couldn't. The sob that had been building in my chest finally erupted. It wasn't a quiet cry, no, it was a loud, jagged sound of pure agony. I put my forehead against the plush rug and let the tears fall. I cried for my father. I cried for Ashanti. I cried for the girl who used to dream of leading a pack with honor.

"I said, look at me!"

He reached down and grabbed my hair, forcing my head up. I was forced to look at him through a blur of hot tears.

"This is what happens to wolves who forget their place," Julian said, his voice dropping to a whisper that was scarier than any shout. "You are not a princess here. You are not a warrior. You are mine. Your body, your breath, your very thoughts belong to the Alpha of the Eclipse."

He then looked at the guards. "Get out."

The doors closed behind them, but the damage was done. They had seen me. They would tell the others. The story of the broken Princess would spread through the pack like wildfire.

Julian let go of my hair and stood back, watching me as I shivered on the floor. The rage seemed to have left him, replaced by a dark, satisfied calm.

"You did this to yourself, Elara," he said. He walked over to the bed and picked up a heavy fur cloak. He tossed it at me. It landed on my shaking shoulders, the warmth of the fur mocking the coldness in my heart.

"Cover yourself," he said. "And get in the alcove. Tomorrow, the real work begins. And if I find you out of that bed again tonight... I won't just whip the maid. I will make you watch as I give her to the scouts for their amusement."

I clutched the fur cloak to my chest, my body still racking with sobs. I didn't say a word. I couldn't. I crawled toward the small room, my knees scraping against the rug, and didn't stop until I was huddled in the corner of the tiny cot.