Demon Prince of Mangala Ch. 03

The servant took off at a run and Yelena looked around for a more effective way of getting Nataliya away... She knew that she couldn't count on the prince, he may even not have returned.

Nataliya's head was spinning, she didn't know how many glasses she had drunk but she couldn't seem to focus. All around her she saw the faces of strange men, leering and laughing. Every time she tried to stand up, hands would push her down. On top of this, she had to keep pushing hands off her legs and arms - but every time she did, another hand would appear from somewhere else. She felt frightened but she couldn't seem to focus enough to do much about it. It felt like she hadn't seen Yelena for hours. She just wanted to go home.

Yelena grabbed a bucket of slops from the side of the bar, hefting it to throw.

"Vasily, go get help... Find some sober officers, get the guard, anything. Just do it quickly!"

Looking upset and torn between throwing himself back on the crowd around Nataliya or getting help, Vasily dithered, halfway between the crowd and the door.

Yelena struggled with the wooden pail, half-lifting, half-dragging it closer.

The crowd had definitely got the better of Nataliya now. Barely aware of her surroundings, she was lain out on the couch, her dress high about her waist, her lace panties uncovered. One man was rubbing his hands along her legs, gently stroking her flesh to much encouragement from his friends. A second was miming pulling her dress down over her tits, with much laughing and encouragement.

Yelena hefted the bucket. For just a moment she paused, staring at the men as if trying to find the most effective place to throw it, then she swung the bucket back and hurled the slops over the nearest portion of the crowd with a cry of anger.

For just the briefest moment, everything stopped. But very quickly a new round of laughter broke out amongst the men - the object of which were the two or three she had managed to soak with the waste alcohol.

"Fucking bitch!"

"What...?"

Very quickly their anger was turned on her and Yelena felt afraid for herself for the first time. Seeing quickly how it was going to be, Vasily grabbed her hand and pulled her away toward the stairs. For a moment she thought the men would chase her, but the attraction of what their friends were going to do to Nataliya seemed to pull them back and, in the end, they laughed and pressed closer to the supine girl.

Nataliya was really frightened now. For some reason she was on her back surrounded by the leering faces of men. One of them was holding her hands above her head while a second had hold of her ankles, stretching her over the sofa. A third man was slowly pulling her dress up, something the others had seemed to find really funny a few moments ago, but were now regarding with a forbidding intensity.

"No... Stop it..." Nataliya struggled to form sentences, the room was spinning, but she knew she wanted them to stop. "Don't! Please."

She struggled feebly, trying to pull away - but the men held her firmly. They had her dress above her waist now, exposing her purple lace panties. That done, the hands moved to the top of her dress. Ignoring her struggles, her dress was gently pulled down over her tits, exposing her matching purple bra. Even drunk, on some inner level Nataliya knew what was going to happen and she started to struggle desperately.

"Stop. Please don't!" All laughter had ceased now as lust overcame hilarity and a new tension entered the crowd. "No. Let me go, please. Please."

Nataliya stood no chance. Drunk, barely able to focus, her arms and legs pinioned, she was held still as rough hands kneaded her breasts through her bra. Helpless, tears of anger and humiliation filled her eyes.

"No, not like this... Please," she said, but it was clear that she was incapable of resisting, the drink robbing her of any volition.

A fat finger slipped beneath her bra, brushing the fabric down over her flesh, lifting her tit over the seam. The crowd sighed and she felt the rough hand rubbing her nipple to the encouragement of the surrounding men: laughter and hilarity returning as this new humiliation was heaped upon her. She felt hands on her panties and she struggled vainly - to no avail. Quickly, roughly she felt them pulled down her legs to tangle in the hands holding her ankles. A collective sigh passed through the crowd, a rumbling very close to a growl as her cunt was exposed.

Now rough hands pulled her panties from her, her ankles only momentarily free before hard fingers renewed their grip. She felt sick, she knew what was happening but everything was like a horrible nightmare - her body felt numb, as if it belonged to someone else, the room seemed to be a spinning sea of leering faces.

"Please. Help me..." she said, her voice slurring now. "Please, don't..."

Roughly she felt herself pulled about so that her legs were on the floor, hands on her thighs pulling them open, exposing her cunt. Other hands still held her hands, her arms splayed wide, her tits bare above her dress, hands rubbing them roughly - hurting her. Vaguely, as if in a dream, she watched one man taking off his trousers and she knew what was going to happen - she felt helpless - overwhelmed - tears soaking her cheeks.

"Please, not like this... Please, don't."

Yelena saw him first.

She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

He burst into the room at the run, his presence like a cold northern wind - all fury and animal grace. Behind him a handful of soldiers in armour fanned out across the room, the servant boy trailing in their wake.

Exactly as Nataliya had described, his eyes seemed to glitter with some inner light - just like cut crystals before a flame - but there was nothing of kindness or warmth in them on that night. Even innocent as she was, Yelena felt her skin shiver with goosebumps, her hairs standing on end. Nataliya was right about one thing though, she thought, he was beautiful - beautiful like a frost, like ice.

"Stop!"

He didn't shout, at least not in any conventional sense, he didn't need to. Instead his words seemed to crack through the room with an elemental power - like the breaking of a glacier - the sound somehow visceral; a sound you felt vibrate in your gut as much as hear with your ears. In their wake silence fell like a shroud.

As if to support his words, the armoured soldiers behind him drew weapons from sheaths with mechanical precision - the distinctive whine of firelances being made ready, levelled at the crowd, adding an ominous undertone to his anger.

"The next man who touches her will find himself impaled before the palace gates!"

His voice was quiet now, only loud in the context of the suddenly silent room, but in those words Yelena heard a cold-blooded fury the like of which she had never experienced.

The crowd around Nataliya froze to a man. In a flash of dawning terror all thoughts of lust just drained away - the crowd scuttling from Nataliya as if she were suddenly toxic.

Andrey hadn't moved. There was about his stillness at the end of the room, she thought, something infinitely more intimidating than any display of bluster or fury. It was an unnatural stillness - like a spring coiled tight the moment before release, a stillness that spoke of horrifying self control and that made a mockery of the courage of men.

And the crowd around Nataliya seemed to be all out of courage, babbling apologies in voices rich with newly found terror.

"Highness, it was just a game..."

"Sire, please, nothing was meant."

"Lord Prince, forgive us, we didn't know she was yours."

Boot heels clicking loudly in the now silent room, not deigning to spare a glance for the petrified rabble, he walked to Nataliya's side - his very movements filled with a grace and power that left Yelena awe struck.

She lay where she was left - stretched over the sofa, unconscious - her dress ruched about her middle, her tits and cunt exposed. For a long moment he stared down at her and the stillness returned like the onset of winter.

Andrey knew well the effect of his heritage on women. Had used it countless times - had fucked countless women - so it wasn't that. But something about this girl, for she seemed little more, affected him. That kiss they had shared, he had thought of it often since - as if she had bewitched him. It was as if she appealed to a softer part within him, something he was not used to feeling.

He sensed the crowd standing just behind him.

"Get out," he said, voice as cold as death - once again reaching inside himself, drawing on the anger coursing through him to energise the words, sending them scuttling about the room - spreading fear into the hearts of those who heard them.

Very quickly he heard the scum retreating from his presence, his bodyguard hustling them down the stairs, his pensive gaze never leaving Nataliya.

Even drunk she looked beautiful. Her skin soft - cream dusted with gold - so innocent. He felt the stirrings of lust inside as he had the first time he saw her. Lust and something more.

"Please highness, can I cover her up?"

Surprised, Andrey looked over at the speaker - a young woman, only a little older than Nataliya.

"Of course."

Yelena quickly pulled Nataliya's dress over her tits and down over her cunt - making her as presentable as she could. All the while she could feel Andrey's eyes on her back. There was something going on here, she had to admit. That look on his face as he was watching her...almost gentle. Maybe Nataliya wasn't so hapless after all. Vasily handed her a blanket from somewhere and she covered Nataliya with it.

"Do you have somewhere to go tonight?" Andrey said, his voice was even, cultured. No trace of an accent.

"Uh... No, Highness. We had planned on going back home, but..."

"Yes. There are guest rooms at the keep. You can stay there tonight and head back tomorrow." It wasn't an offer, more a command.

"Yes, Highness."

Quickly he sent the servant boy on ahead to warn the keep. Then, to Yelena's shock, he scooped Nataliya up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a small child. To her amazement, the expression on Nataliya's face turned quickly into one of genuine contentment and, asleep though she was, she seemed to snuggle into him. For the first time since she had set eyes on him, Andrey smiled and its warmth transformed his face.

It was indeed a day for revelations, thought Yelena.

If only you were able to enjoy it, eh Natasha? Yelena thought as they walked.

******

The sunlight was burning her eyes, something had crawled into her mouth and died and there was a marching band in her head. Feeling absolutely awful, Nataliya woke to a bright day and was instantly disorientated. The room was unfamiliar, the sun brighter than she was used to: where was she?

God she felt terrible, what had happened last night?

"Ah, you're awake. Welcome back."

"Wh..." her mouth was too dry to speak. "Where am I?"

"Azarov Kremlin. Guest rooms, to be exact," said Yelena.

Slowly, comprehension dawned on her. She looked around at the massive room - many times larger than even her parents' room in Rostov Kremlin - its rich décor so redolent of easy wealth.

"How... Uh... How did we get here?"

She could recall next to nothing of the evening, her head was pounding.

"In your case, Natasha, Lord Prince Andrey Zmeyevich Azarov carried your unconscious and semi-naked body here in his arms and laid you down in that bed himself," she said, a hidden smile playing in her voice. "Vasily and I walked," she added, as if she had been waiting a long time to say just that.

"What?" Nataliya felt her heart lurch and she tried to sit up but her stomach heaved and she lay back. "How?"

Then something else dawned on her - she was wearing unfamiliar nightclothes.

"Lena, my clothes... Did he? Did you?"

Yelena laughed, genuinely amused.

"Who undressed you, you mean?"

Hands holding her head, Nataliya nodded gently.

"I'm not sure if you want it to be the Lord Prince or not?" Yelena laughed.

"Lena... Please."

"Okay. House slaves - who also found you that dress you wear - undressed you. They also cleaned up your vomit after you were sick in the middle of the night."

"Oh."

"Yes, quite," she said. Then, overcome with relief, she hugged her. "Oh, Natasha, I'm just glad you're okay."

"Why? What did I do?"

"You don't need to know. Just thank the Lord Prince, I think we owe him a lot after last night," Yelena said.

Perplexed, Nataliya looked once again at the room, her nightdress.

"Oh, and drink this," Yelena picked up a glass containing a thick black liquid. "I don't need you hung-over all day. This will help, the Azarov family doctor left it for you."

The liquid smelt sweet, a little of herbs and a little of minerals. Stomach heaving, Nataliya sipped it gently. It tasted like it smelt, perhaps a little too sweet.

"Uh, Lena, I don't think I can."

"Just do it. This is your one chance to impress your Lord Prince: he's seen you drunk, perhaps you'd like to try sober?"

******

By the time breakfast was organised, Nataliya was feeling much better, the drink settling her stomach and relieving her pounding head - although she wished that they could tone the sun down a bit.

Joined by Vasily, the three of them took breakfast in the drawing room adjacent to the guest suite, waited upon by liveried Azarov servants. The sun shining in through two full length draped windows, tinting the room in shades of lemon and white. It was as they were finishing that Andrey joined them, causing them to rise from their food.

"Please, sit down," he said, smiling warmly.

The moment he entered the room, Nataliya felt goose bumps on her arms and her nipples harden. She could feel his presence, even across the room. It was incredibly distracting, overwhelming almost.

He pulled up a chair and sat at the empty side of the table, opposite Nataliya.

"How are you feeling this morning? Did Doctor Drugov's potion work?"

"Mmm... Much better, thank you, Highness," Nataliya smiled. "Yelena tells me that I also have to thank you for what you did for me last night."

"Indeed. Don't think that I will fail to collect payment, Nataliya," he said, laughing, but catching her eye with a meaningful glance. "We Azarovs always collect our dues."

She felt a shiver of pure anticipation pass through her.

"Yes, Highness," she said, looking down demurely.

Yelena watched the interaction with interest: this was delicious!

"But, I also came to apologise for what happened last night," he said, his sapphire eyes taking in all of them. "It is unfortunate that you chose last night to pay a visit to the Guards' Mess. The regiment you saw had just taken up residence after a year long posting to the outer border. It was their first sight of drink in a long time - and things got out of hand, I think."

The three of them made assenting noises.

"Still, no excuses. I have arranged for some disciplinary measures to avoid a repeat occurrence," he said, serious now. "I would also like to invite all of you to dinner at my dacha next week, it's a little quieter than the city," he paused, turning his eyes full on Nataliya. "Nataliya, it would be my pleasure to escort you... Unless there is another?"

"No, Highness... I mean yes, Highness," Nataliya felt flustered, blushing bright red. "I mean, I don't have an escort but I would like to come. As your guest, Highness."

She felt hot and embarrassed, her lip finding its way between her teeth once again. From the corner of her eye she saw Yelena grinning wildly.

"Good. I shall meet you at my dacha. I shall have my majordomo arrange the details with you. Until then," he said, smiling.

As they left Yelena couldn't help but notice that there were new heads impaled above the gate to the kremlin, opposite the Palace of Butterflies. She didn't need to look to know that she'd recognise many of them. Glancing at Nataliya, who seemed oblivious, she shivered, suddenly cold.