THE TIGER AND THE PRINCE, PART THREE 


The reign of the Tiger Queen over Chali was one that would be remembered as much for its strict, yet unyielding fairness, as for the strangeness of its ruler.  The Rakhshasa was fundamentally a creature who abided by rules. Her rules, but rules nonetheless.  Pannalal watched with growing jealousy and bitterness as she proved herself far superior a ruler to both his father and to the sort of ruler he had dared to imagine himself becoming, once.

As she had promised, wealth began to flow back into the city, and the treasuries of Chali grew heavy with the accumulation of coin. All other treasures were rendered down or sold to other lands, for the Rakhshasa had a curious aversion to gemstones, and had disinterest in art or curios. All that mattered to her was filling the letter of the bargain, of making Chali a city of spectacular wealth, as defined by the size of her credit.

Taxes grew, but only on the rich. With a utilitarian logic, the Tiger Samtjamdar knew that to feed hardest on the weakest of lambs would satisfy her little and kill the flock. But the fattest sheep, the nobles and the merchants, she could tax again and again, and tax ever harder, for they could best bare her needs. Those that complained were punished with terrifying swiftness.

And so the wealth began to trickle down. With no boot on them, the poor became ever less poor, and small businesses flourished. The Rakhshasa suspended all tithes to the temple, caring not if she angered the Gods, for she was already anathema to them. With even this little given back to them, more and more of the once destitute and unworthy aspired beyond their stations, and the once rigid caste system began to flow, more and more of the undeserving climbing up on ladders of copper and gold.

Those that resisted or complained too loudly suffered the same swift and brutal justice that the Rakhshasa always met out, though she would usually indulge her other appetites as well. Rumours of her cuckoldry of the prince became widespread, and Pannalal knew with bitterness that he was a laughing stock. 

He had aspired so hard to please his father above all else, his life was now empty, and the Rakhshasa filled it with strange demands and ruthless hardness which he struggled to fathom. Once, briefly, he had imagined a connection of sorts might form between him and his new wife, but something had changed.  

Now he sought to conspire a way to escape the bargain he had made, and to claim the ruler-ship for himself. It was a difficult proposition, he knew, in more ways than one.

He moaned as he felt her rough, yet intimately skilled, tongue slither around his cock. He was pinned against the wall of their boudoir, his silk pants pulled all the way down, whilst servants both male and female watched, concealing their mirth. 

She wore her tiger-guise, and Pannalal felt his shaft pinned between her sharp fangs, razors that made it imperative he stand very still as she suckled him within her mouth, sliding her muzzle back and forth along his length with skill. She made him want to buck and yelp, his member growing ever harder, beads of pre-cum forming on the head.

“Keep still, princess.” she mocked, her claws hands gently stroking his balls, another thick paw circling underneath him, ready to finger his prostate. It was by far the best blowjob he had ever received, but if he moved but an inch, she would surely claw or bite him severely. He strained to keep still, even as his body trembled with pleasure.
“Please...ah..let me...have release...” he begged, shuddering, his hands gripping tightly onto the crenellations in the wall decorations, his butt slamming repeatedly against the panelling as she pushed him back and forth with her mouth and tongue.

“Not until I feel like it.” She purred. He glanced down at the strange sight, finding himself oddly aroused by her intense, glaring green eyes. Looking straight down, seeing a Tigress with his cock in his mouth, was some kind of surreal nightmare. But looking further down, he could see she was naked from the waist-up, and despite being coated in striped fur, her breasts were far too large and supple to be anything but human. It was an odd contrast, and the sensations she helped him feel made that experience all the sharper.

“Please...I can't...hold on...” He shuddered, his balls aching as he felt his seed coursing through his painfully erect cock. He was about to let forth, finally breaking his dam, when she squeezed his balls with painful tightness, causing him to yelp in agony, his orgasm denied.

“You do not come before I command you to.” she reminded, before letting his thoroughly lubricated penis flop free from her muzzle, as she stretched out, laying on her back.

He sighed with relief, the imminent prospect of castration by fang or claw now removed, at least for the time being. But before he could do anything else, she grabbed his cock in her claw, yanking him down and towards her. 

“Now, try and pleasure me with that shaft of yours. And if you cum before I do, I will give you a mark of my displeasure to remember.” He shuddered. His back still hurt from where she had clawed him the last time.

As he slid himself within her honey-pot, her drenched folds easily admitting his comparatively tiny member, she shuddered a little with pleasure, letting forth a catlike purr of satisfaction. “Good, good. You are learning. Now, thrust...”

As he began to build up rhythm, his balls, still sore and throbbing, gently brushing against her thick fur, A guardsman burst into the boudoir, panting, his uniform askew. She growled, looking up at the intruder.

“Can't you see I'm busy? Grab my breasts.” She commanded, and Pannalal quickly did so, feeling her soft flesh through the thin coating of fur, gently rubbing and tweaking her dark nipples as he did so.

“My Queen! I...I'm sorry for the disturbance, but this is urgent.”

“It better be, or it'll be your head.” she growled. She idly gripped Pannalal by his long dark hair, making him wince, as she encouraged him to thrust into her ever harder. His need to orgasm was overwhelming, but the pain she inflicted into him counter-acted the release he so craved, and he felt tears coming to his eyes, his shaft was so raw and throbbing.

“Harder! Now, deliver your message.”

“My Queen, 40 fierce bandits calling themselves the Thieves of Ali have taken control of one of your trading stations. They are demanding a heavy tithe of your goods and wealth. We would send in the army to clear them out, but they have almost half of this year's spider-silk harvest hostage. They say they will burn the goods if we try anything.”

She growled with a mixture of anger and growing arousal. “How dare they steal -my- goods!  This is a flagrant disregard for my rules. Spider-silk is a royal monopoly of Chali, and I will not be bribed for what is mine.” She shuddered, her heavy back arcing, her vaginal muscles clenching tight around Pannalal's member, and he felt himself unable to resist any longer.

Her climax was but a fraction of a second before his, much to his relief. He emptied himself deep within her, his fluid coating her insides, a powerful stream of semen exploding from within him. His chest heaved with effort, his lungs burning, as he let out a feminine cry of satisfaction, deafened by Rakh's bestial roar as she thrashed against the floor with pleasure.

The guardsman simply paled, wincing at the sight of man and tiger-woman locked in explosive sexual climax. She shuddered, her fur sinking back into her flesh, her muzzle and fangs retracting as she shrunk and flowed back into a human form, her now bare coffee-skin rising and falling in exhausted bliss.

His face reddening, the guardsman looked away, aware that his queen was now very human, and very naked. Somehow this was far more embarrassing for him, and also arousing.

She sighed a little, her long tiger-striped hair fanned out behind her. She pushed the exhausted prince away, and leaned up on her elbows. “You do not need to avert your eyes, guardsman. You find my human form desirable? Good. That will serve me. For your swift service you may have an hour with one of my harem. Pick out one of the girls you see and they will do whatever you desire.” She yawned, the exertion of her play with Pannalal draining her for a few moments. 

“Tomorrow I will deal with these Thieves of Ali, and secure my spider-silk. Let all in this land and all around it learn that nothing is stolen from me.” She grinned, revealing tiny fangs. “I have more ways of conquest than fang and claw.”

Pannalal simply leaned back, too fatigued to intervene, but his ears listening for every detail. So, Rakh planned to deal with the bandits personally? That would mean she would be leaving the palace.

He concealed a wry smile. This would give him time to seek out the old man, and anwsers within the great library. Perhaps he who had helped him bring the Rakhshasa here might also help him send her away.

The Guardsman saluted his Queen and Prince smartly, before blushing, and heading off with one of the palace girls, a sheepish grin on his face.

Pannalal's mood soured. Despite her earlier claims, it was impossible for him to spend time with any of the harem, or seek pleasure or affection elsewhere. The Rakhshasa consumed all of his energy and his time, and the fear that all had of displeasing her meant that no girl would dare risk the Tiger Queen's wrath by abiding by his wishes or commands. Not that he was particularly good at exerting such authority either.

No, he decided. Finding a way to be rid of the Rakhshasa was the only way forward. Though, even as he lay supine against the wall, he had to admit that she was really rather good with her tongue.

===========================================================================================

The Thieves waited, watching with hawk-like focus as night fell over the trade station. A loose circle of Chali's guardsmen had been formed around them, but the Thieves had hoisted the bundles of spider-silk up onto the roof, displaying them proudly, three men waiting nearby at all times with a barrel of pitch and some torches. They held a significant portion of the city's most valuable goods to ransom, and they were confident that this bold strategy would pay off for them.

Inside the main courtyard of the station, thirty more of the thieves camped and feasted, arguing over the other spoils they had taken. The Thieves of Ali were a notorious band, but they shared all spoils equally, bound by a strict code of brotherhood. To steal from one another was the ultimate crime, and was punished swiftly.

This unity was their strength. It would also prove to be a weakness that Rakh intended to exploit.

She wore her most revealing lingerie and harem pants under a thick brown cloak, sauntering steadily across the no man's land between the trade station and the guard pickets. The thieves watchmen quickly noticed her approach, but seeing she was alone and garbed like an old woman, heavily cloaked, they did not attack. Instead they waited till she drew up at the front of the door, before challenging her.

“Halt, old woman! What is your business?”

“I bring tidings from the Samtjamdar of Chali, master of the road.” She spoke croakily, yet with authority, addressing the thief with mocking honours. “I am to negotiate with you and ensure the release of the spider-silk bundles.”

The watchman scoffed. “Be off with you, old hag! We have made our demands known to the tiger-headed bitch. Either they are met or we will burn the silk by next sunset!”

“Perhaps there is another way we can negotiate...”she lifted her cloak, showing the watchman her youthful and slender human body. His breath was taken away by the sight of her alluring and shapely form, her coffee-skin and firm, bountiful breasts barely restrained by her purple brassiere.

“I...will have to let the Chief decide.” he gulped, his desert pants already growing tight as his spear rose to attention. “Fine, you may enter.”

The heavy wooden door swung open, and the disguised Rakhshasa entered the compound, where the thieves quickly formed a thick circle around her. This is the origin of the saying “as thick as thieves”, meaning both a tightly bound group, but also a group that was stupider than its individual parts, for seeing the astonishing young beauty now walking confidently through their camp, every man thought only with his spear, and those who had doubts did not voice them, fearing the disapproval of their rowdy peers.

“I am the Chief of this Band. You wish to negotiate with me?” A stocky man with a thick beard and a rich turban stepped forward, a huge scimitar stuffed in his pants, in more ways than one. 

“I am the emissary of the Samtjamdar. I am authorised to secure the release of the spider-silk by any means necessary. I can offer you riches and...”she pouted her thick, inviting lips. “Other treasures.”

The Chief grinned, revealing a mixture of rotten teeth and gold ones. “Sadly, girly, you won't be seducing me. This is the Band of the Thieves of Ali! Any reward you seek to offer me, has to be shared equally with all my men. And we have already named our price in gold. If the Tiger Bitch isn't willing to pay that sum in full, I see no reason to negiotate.”

The band laughed heartily, though all licked their lips and edged closer around the young woman.

She smiled. “And If I do share this treasure with all of your band equally, you will let me and the silk go?”

The Chief laughed, and the whole band roared along with him. “You are quite the harlot, young emissary. But I doubt even you can satisfy all 40 of us with equal skill and care. If you should tire or flag or call for any sort of respite, my men will take you anyway, and your bargain will be over. Are you sure you wish to offer yourself so readily to so impossible a task?”

The disguised Rakhshasa simply smiled cruelly, with all the hunger and intent of a predator. “If you keep your end of the bargain, I assure you, I will keep mine.”

The Chief hesitated for only a moment, before grinning, and waving to his men. “Very well. You have until sunset. Bring each and every one of us to climax by your own will and you can have the goods.”

The band roared its approval. Her eyes flashed, and she intoned ritually. “It is done. Shall we begin?”

“Yes. Start with the youngest, for they are the most eager.”

The thieves pressed in, cackling, as the young woman with the tiger-striped hair undid her brassiere, letting it fall to the ground, revealing her firm, dark breasts and hardening nipples. She licked her lips seductively, and threw her brown cloak down upon the ground to serve as a mattress.  Her work began.


Pannalal knew he only had until the morning to make the most of Rakh's absence, and hurriedly he searched the archives. At first he searched for the old man, but he could find no trace of the one who had helped him, or indeed anyone who had ever heard or met such a person. 

Then he spent hours combing the shelves, the scrolls and the book-piles, looking for lore eldritch and old that might give him some clue as how to defeat the Rakhshasa, and escape the bargain made. He could find only two ways- either to learn her true name, or to compel her in some way to fail her end of the bargain. He could think of no way to achieve either at present, and he sighed with frustration. 

He called for more oil for the lantern, and sent servants scurrying, leaving him alone in the dimming light.  He was sure the Old man must know more, perhaps even the true name!  But how to find him?

As he wandered the shelves, idly glancing at a scroll, he recognised his place in the library. He was near where he had been he had met the kind sage that night, all those months ago. He struggled to search his memory. What had he been doing when the sage came to him? He scanned the shelves, looking for any clue that might trigger his memory.

Suddenly, his eyes alighted on an old tome. A treatise on ancient economics. Inspiration struck him. He had been reading this ancient dusty tome to learn how to better manage the economy, to find a way to improve his city's wealth to impress his father. He quickly pulled the tome off the shelf once again. How had the old man known to find him? Noone could have been in this part of the great library in centuries. Who would want to read such an old tome on such an obscure subject, other than a bored or desperate prince?

“You seek me again, young prince.”

Pannalal spun round, his suspicion confirmed. The Old man stood in the same place he had before, his robes disheveled with age, his eyes bright green and warm with humour.

“I do. I would be rid of the Rakhshasa you bid me free.”

The Old man yawned, before shuffling over to seat himself at the same reading table the Prince had been sat at when he had first begged for a way to enrich his father.

“I am an Old man, who simply happened to know some things. Why do you think I can help you now? You already got what you wanted.”

Pannalal sighed, sadly, but his resolve was set. “I am sorry for my rash wish. What I want...no, what I need now is a way to get what this land needs. A wise and generous ruler, one who is not a beast.”

“It seems to me thats what this land has already. Is she not fair? Is she not just? Do the poor not become ever less poor, and the corrupt and greedy ever fewer in number?”

“She's an animal! She...she treats me like a...like a toy or a pet, in the bedroom.” He confessed, blushing. “I no longer wish to be a slave to my wife.”

The Old Man grinned. “So it is jealousy and pride that motivates you now, rather than weakness and servility to an uncaring father. Which is the worse motivation? But perhaps I can help you with your wife.” He said, sighing reluctantly.

“I do know of a way you can tame her here. I sense an opportunity for you is arising even as we speak. She is labouring mightily with her powers to meet the bargain. She is attempting to secure the wealth of the city, and if she should fail, she forfeits more than the bargain she made with the Chief of thieves, but with you and the city as well. Go to her, and give her what she has secretly craved from you all these months, and in so doing, compel her to break her bargains.” He raised his hand, and in them were two shining emeralds. “You can imprison her thusly, if you so wish, or merely tame her to your side. The choice is yours, but remember, she is your wife, and I suspect she has longed for you to be her husband.”

Pannalal was confused and uncertain at the sage's words, but he understood enough to see a way forward. “So she must fail at her present task with the Band of thieves? I understand.  I better get going right away. Thank you old man, though I know not why you help me, I am grateful.”

The sage merely indicated the ancient book. “Economics is a dismal science, a dreary tome for a dreary age. I wrote it long ago to help men manage their greed. But those who turned their greed into management...they became Rakhshasa, and what was meant to be a system of invisible checks and balances became a game, a gambling shop, a place where those who best managed the rules could enslave and exploit others. You could say I am the memory or spirit of the laws I tried to set out, whilst the Rakhshasa are the letter of the law, masters of applying the rules without understanding them.

I help you now as much for her sake as for yours. She was never truly one of them, and has always had more than greed in her heart. Learn what she would teach well, young Pannalal, or learn it not at all.”

The Sage vanished, and the ancient book began to crumble as a sudden wind blew through the Archives, scattering the tattered fragments of parchment and binding like so much dust. Pannalal did not understand much of what the Sage had spoken to him of, but he knew that this would be the final time he could call on such help. 

Tonight he would have to tame the Rakhshasa, and be a Prince no longer, but a true Samtjamdar.

======================================================================


Dawn was rising when the Prince thundered into the trade station, his horse foaming at the mouth, the guards too tired to object as he hurtled past them, his feet digging into the sides of his mount.

He brought the horse to a final, skidding halt as he raced through the open gate, noting that there had been no challenge, that the thieves watchmen had all been...incapacitated. As he threw himself from the saddle, his legs wobbly and his chest heaving for breath, he ran over to the centre of the compound. Locating the Rakhshasa was not difficult.

Dozens of men lay stretched out in various poses around a pile of mats and cushions in the middle of the courtyard. Trails of cum lay spattered along the ground, and men lay groaning and panting, their pants torn away, some entirely naked.

Pannalal watched with awe as she took three men at once, the strongest and roughest of the crew, including their Chief, his gold-teeth flashing as he heaved into her from behind. She was completely naked, her dark-skin absolutely drenched in sweat and other fluids. Her chest heaved with incredibly exertion, her dark nipples erect and raw. Her eyes had lost much of their sheen, the green light and command that had once shone so readily now dimming. She looked almost as far gone as the horse he had ridden to exhaustion getting here.

The Chief pulled back roughly on Rakh's long, matted hair, the vibrant tiger colours soaked in men's sweat and cum, making her seem like she'd bathed in wax. She struggled to fit one man's huge member into her tired, chapped lips, her mouth spilling goo everywhere as she slid the meaty shaft back and forth. Her hands gently massaged the man's balls, her finger almost lazily fingering his prostrate as he grunted, thrusting into her, his own limbs leaden and tired.

Another man was on top of her, his dick squelching as he thrust into her overladen pussy, his hands groping at her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples. Rakh winced a little at the treatment, but not as much as she did when the Chief pounded her roughly, sawing her back and forth between the two other men, making it hard for her to maintain her focus and balance on the third bandit.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene, and felt a strange war of emotions in him. To see her humbled like this, the once proud domme now all but exhausted from servicing men. And it couldnt have been just once each, either, he noted. She would have had to fuck all of them many times to make them this exhausted, without any let-up on her part. It was truly...godlike. 

And as the first rays of the sun crept into the murky twilight of the trading post, he realised that she was close to failing here. He need do almost nothing and she would lose the bargain she had made with the bandits.

With a mighty heave, the man pounding her vagina finally climax, his dark hairy chest straining, his eyes slumping into his head as he cums painfully, a low moan escaping his lips as he collapses side-ways, the exertion of this final eruption having exhausted him utterly. Rakh kicks him away weakly, limply, as her thoroughly battered slit oozes yet more of the seed that had just been pumped into her, her legs covered in bruises and marks where men had held her down roughly.

“What you staring at boy? You want a turn?” The Chief grunted, undeterred, continuing his brutal assault on the woman's asshole. He rose one of his hands, grabbing Rakh's face, squeezing her cheeks and turning her to face the shocked Prince.

“Hey! Think you got it in you to do it with one more?” he chuckled evilly.

Rakh's eyes seemed to flash with something. Anger? Pain? Sadness? Pannalal could not interpret her moods. She had always been an enigma to him. But now, seeing her laid bare before him, brought low, her human form thoroughly used and abused by a large group of men... something stirred within him.

Rakh tried to speak, her breath ragged, but the other man shoved himself deeper into her throat, face-fucking her with a passion, gripping onto her shoulders and breasts roughly as he sought to exhaust himself the same way the rest of his comrades did.

“Ah yes! Take it you whore!” he yelled, slamming his balls against her chin, hilting himself in her overloaded mouth, straining her humanity to the limit, her eyes watering.

He clenched his fist, feeling the emeralds dig into his flesh. He tried to reconcile what he was seeing with the Rakhshasa he knew. Why would she do something like this? Why not simply kill everyone brutally, and recover the spider-silk that way? 

These men had already broken her laws. Why offer them a bargain? Or...he frowned. Was it really for -their- sake that this had been done? What -was- the Rakhshasa's motivation, anyway?

Her body seemed to be on the point of total collapse from exhaustion. Her eyes were flickering, as if she was about to faint from the violent exertion of it all. He realised that the violent throat-fucking was driving all the air from her lungs. It wouldn't kill her, but it would make her fall unconscious.

She was moments from losing out on the bargain.

He only had to watch a little while longer, kill the thieves, and claim her unconscious body with the emeralds. He would be Samtjamdar. Victory was being handed to him on a plate. 

With one last great effort, Rakh plunged her shaking, weary fingers into the prostrate of the man throat-fucking her, hard, and he let out his own shaky grunt of enjoyment, as he spurted deep within her, her lips painted white by his pleasure.  He sagged, and fell over too, leaving Rakh alone with the Chief and her erstwhile husband, the Prince.

“Stop it. Stop fucking my wife.” he managed to say at last, mustering the courage within him. “Stop fucking her! That's enough.”

The Chief wheezed with laughter, not pausing in the slightest from his brutalisation. “You? Married this whore? A scrawny bitch-boy like you? No wonder she came to us. You're not man enough to satisfy this...this, animal! A whole camp of my best men, and she's still going. But I will best her. I have a secret.” he grinned, leaning over and whispering in her ear.

“I don't even like women. I've been pounding your ass for hours but I'm not going to cum anytime soon! It takes a man to satisfy me.” he chuckled. “You've already failed.”

Pannalal roared with anger, and drew his sword, ready to kill the disgusting man who had betrayed his wife...his Rakhshasa.

She looked up at him with tired eyes, pleading with him.

He knew what she wanted. What she had promised. If he valued her love of bargains, he would do this for her.

But this obsession would not change this between them. It never could. To do what she was pleading with her eyes, to lower himself to pleasuring the chief... he shook his head. That would not free either of them.

“What are you going to do with that, eh? Kill me? You haven't got the balls for it. Take your other sword out instead, maybe I'll let you and her go afterwards.”

He paused, considering. “You mean you never intended to fulfil your end of the bargain?”

“Of course not!” he wheezed, slapping Rakh's ass, yanking her hair up roughly. “The spider-silk is all but ruined anyway, soaked in oil. I've got my pleasure, tiger-bitch. Brought you low!” he wheezed.

Pannalal allowed himself a small, weak smile. Surely this would...

The Chief's eyes bulged, as the woman he was fucking began to change before him. Fur sprouted from her dark, stained skin, red and black in stripes. She roared with pain and fury, her mouth and face elongating into a long muzzle, her eyes blazing again with a feral green.  Her hands, once limp and shaky, now formed once again into backwards-facing claws, her arms twisting and bones re-shaping.

Her tail sprouted, thwacking the Chief painfully in the nose. He tried to pull out, to pull away, but her control of her own muscles was phenomenal, and she held him fast as she stretched upwards, growing taller and more muscular, her breasts bulging outwards, soft downy fur enclosing her chest.

The Chief finally pulled free, his huge cock now turning limp as the beast-woman rounded on him. “A Bargain betrayed....will see you flayed.” she said, husky, animal-like. Her claws extended.

Blood splattered her muzzle, and she licked her lips, enjoying this new coppery-taste.

Pannalal felt ill, wondering if he had squandered his chance. He looked up at her, tall, defiant. She stood proud and naked before him as she always did, her ears twitching, her fur spattered with blood and the dried cum of 40 men. Her woman-hood oozed with the mark of two score and more bandits, who'd exhausted themselves thinking to master her.

The Rakhshasa could not be tamed.

She began to speak, but then staggered, exhausted, collapsing to her knees, her claws splayed out. She made a low, whining noise, like a cat in pain. She began to shrink, and he watched with amazement as she transformed again, her breasts sinking into her body, her feet and hands becoming paws, her head becoming more heavy and leonine.

She had transformed fully into a Tigress, it seemed. She sat watching him with feral eyes, too tired to move.

He finally walked forward, the two emeralds in his hand. “I could imprison you again, Rakh.  You cannot stop me. I have power now.”

She did not, or could not, answer him.

“I could become Samtjamdar. I could rule over this whole land, and be rid of you, and take another woman as my wife. A hundred women, even. I could be greater and wealthier and fatter than my father ever was!” His eyes were shining with tears, his voice shaking only a little.

Her tail wagged a little, as she began to close her eyes, seeking sleep, or perhaps accepting the inevitable.

He walked up to her, his hand reaching out to her head, stroking her ears softly. “I could do it all..” he said, softly.


“But I don't want to. I want...I want you to make me happy.” He threw the emeralds away, as the sun rose, bathing the courtyard in warm, rosy light.

A small force of guardsman approached cautiously. He waved them in. “Take the thieves away, they should not resist.” He commanded sadly, stroking the tiger's mane.

“Yes, my Prince.” they answered uncertainly, before beginning to haul the groaning, exhausted bandits away.

Pannalal found a rope, fashioning it crudely into a leash, and tied it around the Tigress. He would lead her back to the palace. What the future held he didn't know, but he knew that until she recovered, he would be Samtjamdar in deed.

But he didnt want to be the ruler anymore. He had never truly wanted that. His whole life he had always sought to please others, or meet their expectations. Now...now, seeing what Rakh had been willing to do in the name of meeting those expectations, of fulfilling bargains, of being a slave to the power and the law that she had gained... he knew he would rather seek his own happiness, in his own way.

The walk back was long and quiet, and many ran from him or watched oddly as he walked back to Chali, a tired tiger padding along behind him quietly.  A story began to circulate of the Tiger and the Prince, and how he had tamed the great Rakhshasa at last.

But this is not that story.


“You DARE to leash me?” she roared, tugging at the rope around her neck with very human hands, her face contorted in rage.

“You didn't object much yesterday.” He chuckled, watching her wake in their bed, restored to some semblance of her former energy.

“You are a fool, Pannalal. A weak pathetic fool. You think I will treat you any differently for what you have done? I am still Samtjamdar by law, not you.”

“I know.”
“I will flay your hide if you ever for one moment think that you can escape our bargain.”

“I know.”


“I will have the guards whip you around the streets of the city naked if you ever disobey me in anything...”

“I know.”

She roared, and tore at the leash, ripping it from her neck.

“Damn you! Why?”

He simply grinned. “Maybe I shouldn't care so much what others think of me or want from me. I'm Pannalal. And I am your Prince...”

“Hah! Princess, more like.” she grinned, and there seemed to be a note of warmth in her voice. “Perhaps I should reward you after-all. I will let you wear the finest dresses money can buy. A neat ribbon for your cock.” She yawned a little. “Yes. I will have everyone in the city see how pretty a princess you are. You will serve me well.”

He smiled. “Your will, Samtjamdar.”
He turned to leave, seeing her falling back to sleep again.

“My name is...Jezzhara.” she whispered, before slumping back into the bed, to recover her energy.


He didn't comment, and simply continued to walk back. Well, things would get interesting again soon enough, it seemed. He decided to have the spider-silk she had saved woven into a dress for her- or rather, him. It would be embarrassing but...well, who cared what anyone else thought?

He walked into the throne room, ready to deal with a thousand problems on his wife's behalf.  

===============================================================================================================

Somewhere, in an old trading station, long abandoned, a wind blew, sand scattering across an empty courtyard. Two shining emeralds were revealed. Foot-steps, as an old man approached, bending down to retrieve them, polishing them a little on his dirty brown robe. He grinned to himself.

“Another satisfied customer.” He chuckled, before vanishing into the winds once more.

THE END