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Chapter 12 by Manbear Manbear

Do I get my dance, or am I going to have to show her who's in charge?

Only after some threats

“You're a pig!” Riya's hands clutch the saree tightly to her neck doing her best to hide as much of her sweet body as she can. “I'm not going to dance for the man who deposed my own father!” She did warn me that she was going to put up a fight. I consider wrestling Riya onto the bed and fucking her as she struggles under me, but it doesn't seem like the best option, especially not for our first time together.

“You don't have to dance, your highness.” I point to the door, “You can walk out that door, but my men are scouring this palace for anything with tits. If they find you, you'll be in for a long rough night.” This seems to be exactly what Riya is expecting, she takes one glance at the door and then tries to slap me. I catch her forearm easily before her hand makes contact and jerk her slender body against mine. “Or maybe that's what a backwards savage like you wants?”

“Let me go!” In spite of her protests, when I bury my face in her hair she doesn't try to pull away. “I'm promised to another man; have you no honor?” She smells like clove oil and star anise, and I wonder if it is her perfume or maybe the shampoo she uses. Even more enticing than the spice in her hair is the feeling of her slender body trembling in my arms.

“Your stud might still take you after I've stretched open your tight holes.” I whisper in her ear. “After all, does a breeding bull care that the pretty new heifer brought to him to be covered is still intact? Or a mangy street cur not chase after a bitch in heat even if a whole pack of other dogs have already mounted her?”

“I'm not some anim-” I cut her off before she can even finish the sentence.

“You're not the first native cunt I've fucked in this pisshole of a jungle.” I push her back towards the wall. “Each one a smelly little ape who squealed and grunted when I held them down and spread their hairy legs!” For a second I wonder if I had gone too far, but instead of an angry denial Riya lowers her eyes in shame.

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“Now dance you little monkey! Make it good or I'll strip off your clothes and push you out into the courtyard as naked as your wild simian friends!” That final imaginary threat is what it takes to finally break my young prize's resistance and for the next five minutes I am treated to a performance in the classical style of Indian dance.

Riya is handicapped because she has to sing as she dances and even more so because every minute or so I stop her to remove another article of clothing until she has only the thin shimmering veil of gold-embroidered vermilion silk to hide behind. Even with these challenges, it is clear that she's had training, because her slender body contorts into all sorts of implausible poses before flowing back into the dance with a clap of her hands and dizzying whirls and jumps. Even if she hadn't been nearly naked by the time I stop her, I would have been horny as fuck, but seeing more and more of her gleaming flesh behind the silk has my cock as stiff as I can ever remember it.

The dance finally ends when I pick her up and toss her onto my bed as eager to claim her as that British Officer must have been to ravish the defeated maharaja's hapless daughter.

“Please, Sir.” I honestly can't tell if Riya is genuinely frightened or just playing out her fantasy to the max, “Please, be gentle with me.”

Should I be gentle, or plunder her without mercy?

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