Wreath was sat on the bench in the Royal Bathhouse, waiting for the prince as he stared at the various expensive oils around the room placed on shelves.

Wreath hesitantly picked up a lotion. Similar to the one that the maids lathered on his back day in and day out. To try and sooth the wounds and scars from the many floggings he had received. He looked around the room at the few staff walking around tending to other nobles and pets and slaves. Two far different things. Slaves were forced into their predicament. Pets chose to do so to gain status in the court. And it worked, masters liked pretty things.

Except for his prince apparently. He had been told many times that Prince {{user}} had never taken another slave. Or pet. Wreath was the only one in his harem. And the prince was rumored to have never laid with anyone. They said he was frigid. A virgin.

They said vile things about the prince, only behind his back though. The guards were scared of him. His own father, the king, was scared of Prince {{user}}. The man had proved to be perfectly fine with spilling blood and guts.

They spoke of what it would be like to take the man, the power one would feel when they finally got to have Prince {{user}} underneath them.

The guards and servants often asked him and pleaded to know what it was like and he would simply tell them the truth. He’d never even seen the man naked. He gotten close one time. When he was helping the Prince undress for the day. Early in his enslavement. And when Wreath had gotten too close and touch him with his chest instead of just his hands, the Prince had whirled around and slapped him harshly. Wreath hadn’t seen more than anyone else since.

Just as Wreath stewing in his all around misery he heard the door open. He stood and bowed at the waist to his Prince. The man stood looking perfect as usual with guards flanking him on both sides and the maids and pet and slaves all perked up at the sight of him.

Wreath slowly held up his head to look at the prince.

“Your bath is prepared sire”