I lay sprawled on the bed, my body slick with a messy cocktail of sweat, cum, and other fluids that clung to my skin like a shameful second layer.
My eyes fluttered open to the harsh morning light filtering through the curtains, and instinct made me yank the rumpled sheets over myself, hiding the evidence of the night before.
I had kicked Elaine out of the bed—literally—after I begged her to clean me up post-fuck. She'd taken my virginity with that thick dick of hers, pounding away like it was her right, and when I asked for even basic aftercare? She flat-out refused. "That wasn't part of the deal," she'd snarled, rolling away as if I were nothing more than a used rag.
Now she sprawled naked on the couch across the room, snoring softly, oblivious.
"It hurts..." I whimpered, wincing as I tried to sit up. My pussy throbbed with a deep, fiery ache, raw and swollen from her roughness, every shift sending fresh stabs of pain radiating through my core.
Elaine didn't even twitch.
This sealed it—divorce was inevitable. She wasn't a good partner, let alone a husband. I'd given her everything, opened myself up in the most vulnerable way, and she'd discarded me like trash. I mean, I have given her my virginity. No tenderness, no care. Just selfishness.
Gritting my teeth, I shoved the covers aside and swung my legs over the edge, wrapping the damp sheet around my trembling body like a makeshift toga.
My knees buckled almost immediately, weak from exhaustion and the lingering shock of it all. I stumbled forward, but my legs gave out completely.
I crashed to the floor with a heavy thud, a sharp bolt of pain lancing through my pussy like a knife twist. I cried out, tears springing to my eyes as I curled into a ball.
"Elaine! Please, help me!" My voice cracked, desperate.
Nothing.
"Elaine! For the sake of basic courtesy—anything—help me up!"
She stirred then, but only to sit up with a groggy grunt. Without a glance my way, she snatched her clothes from the floor, yanked them on, and strode out the door, leaving it to slam shut behind her.
"She's no husband," I muttered through gritted teeth, confirmation settling like lead in my gut. "I was right all along."
I sat there on the cold stone floor for what felt like an eternity—at least an hour—sobbing quietly, my body a throbbing wreck, until the door creaked open again. The maids rushed in, their eyes widening in horror.
"Your Highness!"
They fluttered around me like worried birds, gentle hands helping me to my feet and guiding me toward the bathing chamber. "I'll handle it from here. Thank you," I murmured, dismissing them with a weak wave once we reached the steaming pool.
Alone at last, I eased into the huge bathing tub, the warm rose-scented water enveloping me like a soothing embrace. I poured fragrant oils over my skin, working them into a lather with trembling fingers.
Dipping lower, I cleaned my aching pussy meticulously—rinsing away the sticky remnants, massaging the tender folds until the sting began to ebb, replaced by a faint, weary relief.
My pink dick twitched faintly beneath the water—a lingering echo of the night's chaos—before I reached down to clean it too, scrubbing gently with the rose oil until the skin felt fresh and untainted. The simple act grounded me, a small reclaiming of control amid the mess Elaine had left behind.
I clapped my hands sharply, the sound echoing off the marble walls. A maid slipped in moments later, bowing low with practiced deference.
"Can you wash my hair?" I asked, my voice steadier now, though exhaustion laced every word.
"Of course, Your Highness," she replied softly, kneeling at the tub's edge. Her fingers worked deftly through my tangled locks, massaging in lavender-scented shampoo that foamed richly, rinsing away the sweat-matted strands until my scalp tingled with relief.
"Also, send for a potion," I added, eyes fixed on the swirling water. "The strongest one—I don't want to get pregnant. Not from her."
"As you wish, Your Highness," the maid murmured, no judgment in her tone. She finished rinsing my hair, wrapped it in a soft towel, and hurried out to obey, leaving me to sink deeper into the tub's warmth.
The potion would come soon enough, erasing that final risk.
In my previous life, I'd been an assassin—a shadow slipping through the neon underbelly of the modern world, dispatching all kinds of scumbags: corrupt CEOs, human traffickers, politicians with blood on their ledgers.
I'd seen their kind up close, felt their pulses fade under my blade. Elaine? She was just another one, wrapped in alpha finery. Selfish, callous, unworthy of the throne or my bed.
The thought fuelled me as the potion's bitter tang faded on my tongue, chased by the last of the rose water's soothing warmth. I felt clean at last—body and resolve renewed.
Rising from the tub, I stepped out onto the heated tiles, water sluicing off my skin. A plush towel enveloped my curves, and I twisted another around my long silver hair, the strands heavy and gleaming like moonlight.
I padded back to my chambers, the cool air raising faint goosebumps on my legs. Four maids awaited there, arrayed in neat formation beside the grand four-poster bed, trays of silks and jewels at the ready. Their eyes flicked to me with quiet concern, but they said nothing—trained to serve, not pry.
They dressed me in a flowing gown of lace and chiffon, soft and airy enough to brush against my skin with every movement. The fabric fell in gentle layers instead of clinging too tightly, giving it a graceful look that still made me feel trapped in something meant for display. A wide ribbon was tied into my hair, and fresh flowers were tucked in around it so they framed my face like a royal ornament.
The maids kept adjusting the gown until it sat neatly on my body, smoothing the skirt, fixing the sleeves, and checking the flowers again and again. I looked less like myself and more like a beautifully arranged doll prepared for a formal occasion.
They placed a veil over my face to hide the bite mark, lowering it just enough that it covered the mark without falling over my eyes. The fabric was light and sheer, drifting against my cheeks like a soft curtain, but it still made me feel hidden and exposed at the same time.
It covered the proof of the mark neatly, leaving my vision clear, while also making me look even more like a bride dressed for ceremony, though I am already married. I hated how delicate it felt, but I could not deny that it completed the look.