CHAPTER SIX

[POV: Daphne]

Daphne stared horrified at the garments explicitly arranged for her on the narrow bed. A selection of grotesque brothel wear. A sickeningly short skirt and a tiny leather bralette designed only to prominently display flesh. With shaking hands, she quickly forced herself into the demeaning outfit. She couldn't afford a beating. She absolutely needed to project obedience.

But a princess forced into slavery for merely a week simply could not seamlessly master the speed required. She arrived in the great hall exactly two minutes past the deadline.

Leonidas was already pacing the marble floor, his massive frame vibrating with contained fury.

He stalked toward her, a terrifying juggernaut of unchecked wrath. “I specified five minutes,” he growled, the low frequency vibrating in his chest.

“I-I apologize—”

“Kneel.”

Daphne momentarily hesitated. She had never knelt completely on the floor for anyone.

It was a fatal miscalculation. Leonidas’s hand lunged forward, roughly grabbing the heavy chain dangling from her iron collar. With a violent jerk, he brutally hauled her forward and downward. Pain flared brightly, and her knees slammed hard onto the unforgiving marble. Hot tears blurred her vision, but she fiercely glared up at him, raw rebellion sparking in her ocean-blue eyes.

“Do you inherently enjoy agony, Daphne?” his voice was shockingly calm, observing her like a disappointing specimen. He squatted down, dangerously close, his large thumb brushing dangerously against the tiny red button embedded on the side of her iron collar.

A spike of pure terror obliterated her rebellion. The button initiated a horrific electrical charge that caused slaves to convulse until they lost consciousness.

“Please,” she whimpered, frantically shaking her head. “Please do not press it. I understand. Master.”

“When I command you to kneel, you kneel instantly. If I command you to cease breathing, you suffocate,” the King dictated coldly. “You will display absolute compliance in the Court today. Do not embarrass me.”

He released the chain, and she scrambled obediently to her feet, meekly trailing behind him as they progressed toward the massive Royal Court chambers.

As the colossal doors swung open, the scent of expensive wine and rampant lust hit Daphne like a physical blow. The Court was utterly chaotic. Three visiting kings—Frederick of Garrison, Malachi of Ithaca, and Gregory—lounged indolently around a massive central stone table, their hands carelessly entwined in the bare flesh of their own collared, moaning slaves.

King Malachi, a heavy-set monarch in his forties, leaned eagerly forward, a visible, hard bulge stretching his breeches upon spotting Daphne. He did absolutely nothing to disguise his predatory intentions.

Daphne dropped silently to the floor beside Leonidas’s dark iron throne, immediately pressing her forehead onto his heavy velvet cloak, trying desperately to become invisible.

“King Leonidas!” King Gregory raised a golden goblet, signaling a pause in the ambient debauchery. “This marks the absolutely unprecedented introduction of the Wolf’s first personal slave! A woman possessing the incredible beauty of ten!”

The surrounding lords erupted into raucous cheers. Across the room, King Gregory casually commanded his own slave onto the central table to perform an explicit, writhing dance. Yet, the ravenous, predatory eyes of King Frederick and King Malachi never deviated from Daphne’s trembling form.

Daphne subconsciously clutched the heavy fabric of Leonidas’s cloak. He abruptly glanced down, a flash of irritation crossing his stoic features. She snatched her hand back as if burned. “Apologies, Master.”

When the grotesque dance concluded, the true nightmare began.

King Frederick stood, his gaze burning intensely a hole directly through Daphne’s flimsy leather garments. “Nobles!” he shouted, drawing every eye in the chaotic hall. “It is a sacred tradition! The formal introduction of a King's personal slave demands she be presented and shared among the present monarchs. A true mark of absolute royal possession!”

Visible delight flooded the eyes of the gathered lords. Malicious jealousy radiated from the surrounding female slaves. Daphne’s stomach churned. They were eager to watch her be destroyed.

“Bring the slave to the absolute center of the hall!” Frederick bellowed.

Daphne slowly, painstakingly pushed herself to her shaking feet. She robotically walked toward the grand center table, her terrified mind fiercely attempting to detach from her physical body.

King Frederick closed the distance like a starving wolf. He circled her trembling form, his heavy hand reaching out to squeeze her hip, trailing obscenely across her bare abdomen. He offered a cruel, triumphant smirk toward Leonidas’s dark throne.

“I shall happily be the first to sample her. Right here upon this table. Right now.”

The lords erupted into a deafening, unified roar of approval.