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A Royal Pain In The Ass
by John Brooke

She lolled luxuriously among the pillows behind silk drapes. Her gleaming raven hair curled above flirtatious eyes. Spice scented bare belly flesh flashed beneath loosely fitted embroidered vest and above partially opaque pantaloons.  

Svetlana’s body swayed rhythmically as the slaves carried the Royal litter through the crowded marketplace. 

Into this mass of unwashed humanity a dashing young gallant riding a white stallion caused an exuberant stir. 

The commotion caught Svetlana’s attention. One look and her hormones rose on the escalator of passion. She commanded the slaves to halt and bring him to her. 

The gentleman saw them coming, spurred his horse, and rode directly at her. She was shocked and thrilled at his audacity.

He parted the Royal curtains with the tip of his sword. Took one look at her captivating beauty, grimaced and galloped off. Pique would be a mild word for her wounded feelings. 

In truth, he was a sharp-eyed Crown Prince who instinctively knew she was an impostor. Not a Royal Princess. She was nothing, a brazen slave girl delivering a new litter to the Royal Palace.