Waiting for the prince inside the carriage was Emma, his personal slave. She had dirty-blonde hair, a kind yet alluring face, adorned by a pair of dee... hazel eyes. There were a few lines around her face, being forty-five years of age, but she kept herself in shape and firm with household chores and exercises, with hardly any loose flesh or skin anywhere on her body. Emma had been a royal household slave, and while the king was still healthy and she was still young, she performed various. The trouble was I still had the hots for her little girl and was always trying to get a look up her skirt or accidentally brush against her and the little minx was no better, constantly flirting with me. Then one day Karen told me her friend had invited her to her birthday bash and asked if I could sit in with Brooke as it was likely to be a very late finish. I tried not to seem too eager in agreeing and so it was settled. Ten days before the event Karen told me the birthday bash was off. I pretended to look at videos on display and watched as men file in and out of the viewing booth area. I wasn’t attracted to any of the men there at all, but that didn’t matter, I just wanted to suck their cocks. I came to realize that you couldn’t tell what kind of man he was by looking at his cock. I watched for a while and saw guys going into the booths next to one that had I light on. I figured that the light meant someone occupied it. I watched for a bit and decided it was now or never and. I just could not believe it. The tears flowed freely down my face, mixing with the spit of my tormentor and pooling on the end of my nose and chin.?Ssssh slaveboy!? the bastard whispered, inches from my inconsolable face. He adopted a tone of mock concern, the way a parent would speak to a small scolded child. ?Ssssh! Nothing to get upset about boy. You is serving a purpose for yo Master boy. When you is working down here with me boy, yo slave pussy is my ashtray from now on. Keep that.