A LESSON FOR BALTHAZAR
by Ayame 2003, 2004...all rights reserved, etc.

Notes: Story contains heterosexual sex between anthropomorphic characters, one of which is pretty chubby. Just so you know. This is a WIP right now.

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When morning arrived, Prince Balthazar woke and reached sideways, grasping his black cane and slowly swinging his legs around. He looked back at the harem girl, Najya, sprawled, tangled in the covers of his bed. Her long black hair was all over his pillows. She slept soundly, which was rare for someone from the harem. He was glad of this though. In the morning, under the warm sunlight, he felt fatter and bigger than ever and was ashamed.

He pushed on the cane and stood, stretching a little and scratching the fur on his large, round belly. He took a red robe off of a chair and wrapped it around his body, tieing the fabric with a knot in front of his belly button. He stood, still sleepy and unsteady and then, after a moment's thought, sat down again in the soft chair the robe had been draped over. He wanted to look at Najya.

Her tiny body was revealed in teasing glimpses under the sunlight that filtered through his white drapes. The covers didn't hide many of her more private physical traits: her small tawny breasts pressed against the celadon green of the sheets, their brown nipples pointed and tight. The sheets were tangled around her shoulders and up under her neck. Her face was half covered by her long hair, which, unbraided, reached down to the small of her back. Her muzzle, long and narrow for a hyena-morph, was a dark brown, as were her forearms and lower legs. She had dark spots running down the sides of her face, over her back and even on her short tail. Her sex and round buttocks were covered by the sheets.

He had been asking for Najya by name for some time now. He wasn't sure when she'd come to the palace, but since she seemed young, just barely a legal adult and therefore eligible for the harem, he didn't think she'd been there a long time. He liked her because she was kind and did not seem to think less of him for his injuries, or for being overweight. He believed she genuinely enjoyed their time together. When they had sex, she did not seem to mind always being on top, or even to perform some of the oral activities some of the other harem women did not like to do. She had an easy laugh and when she climaxed, riding his body, she threw her head back and howled. Then, she always licked her lips, relaxed and put her arms around him--as much as this tiny woman was able.

But that was at night, where he could control the lighting, drape his body in sumptuous clothes and blankets, hide in candlelight. He usually asked her to leave at a few hours after sex. But last night, they had fallen asleep, tangled together.

Najya seemed to stir a little, so Balthazar pushed himself up and went into the bathroom, turning the cold water on and splashing it into his eyes and over his own dark muzzle. He looked into the mirror and saw his unchanging blue eyes looking back out at him. He turned the gold earrings in his ears, washed his ears and brushed out his long blonde hair which was so light, it was almost white. Mostly, he was a dirty beige color, but on his back and muzzle, he was a slate gray. He had dark stripes on his shoulders and the same gray on his paws and legs.

He turned sideways in the mirror and untied his robe. The cloth fell aside, revealing the round curve of his stomach. He placed a dark paw on the curve of it and tried to determine how he looked. He decided he hadn't gained any more weight, nor had he lost any. He was hardly trying to loose weight, but he didn't want to be fatter, either, not with his bad legs and back. Sighing, he closed the robe, finishing his morning cleaning rituals.

When he emerged, Najya was still asleep, her arm thrown over her eyes, her legs curled against her body. This was the first time for a long time that Balthazar had observed her separated from their usual sexual encounters. He wondered briefly if she slept like this in anyone else's bed, even though he had heard that Najya was called “Balthy's girl” by the servants and overseers of the harem. It had been that way ever since he'd seen her down there, alone, quiet, watching the exotic birds imported from Hispera hop around her bench. He wanted her then and had never regretted choosing her every night, even though his brothers felt that she was too small for someone like him.

He did not want to disturb Najya's sleep so he left his bedchamber and emerged into the larger area of his private quarters which functioned as living space, study-room and small library. Servants were already there, busying themselves with cleaning, laying out breakfast and some, who acted as assistants to his research, already laying out books and going through his papers.

His head servant, a large woman nearly as broad and fat as Balthazar himself, came up to him and looked him over in her critical feline way, her white head tilted sideways, green eyes difficult to read. “You look well-rested, my lord,” she said finally.

Balthazar inclined his head. “Thank you, Killy.” He spread his arms wide and she came around behind him and drew off his robe. Another woman, a slim gazelle with black eyes brought his clothing to Killy. For a moment, Balthazar was naked in front of everyone in the room, but as they were servants, their eyes never seemed to meet his body, sliding around it or over it, as if he was a hole in space. But Killy looked at him.

“Your legs look stronger,” she said, as she helped him into his under clothes. These were a light, traditional wrapping made of a single piece of cloth. She tucked it under and around his legs and over his buttocks and around his waist, under his belly. They fastened in the front.

Balthazar nodded to her as her hands moved lightly over his body. “I've been getting more exercise recently--more walking around the grounds,” he said. “The pain medication from the States is truly worth its weight in gold.”

“Mmm,” she said. There was an old rivalry and historic tension between the old world and the new. Her utterance was an acknowledgement of the skills and ingenuity of the people of the West, but her reticence also spoke volumes. Balthazar smiled slightly. He, too, felt the old tensions and had experienced Western ignorance first-hand. But he had to admit when something was good and worked.

Killy took the royal, heavily embroidered robes from the gazelle's flat, open palms. The robe was somewhat like a kimono in its intricacy, but the designs were not naturalistic, but rather stylistic. This robe was fashioned in Balthazar's personal color of dark purple. It was his symbol as the seventh son in the family. Balthazar again spread his arms and allowed Killy to wrap the robe around his ample body and fasten it.

When she was finished, Balthazar lowered his arms and nodded to Killy, who took his night robe from the ground and busied herself elsewhere. Gripping his cane tightly, he made his way to his breakfast table which was low to the ground and had a number of pillows placed around it. Balthazar lowered himself slowly to the floor and reclined somewhat. He picked up a remote-control and turned on the television which was flat and encased incrongrously in an ornate picture frame on the opposite wall. He put it on “mute” so that he could read the news on the screen, rather than listen to it. He turned his attention away from the “idiot box” and picked up a newspaper and began to scan the headlines. While he read, he ate, sampling from the selection of meats, fruits and breads laid out in front of him, making quick work of the food.

He was deeply involved in the news and breakfast when Najya entered the room. As a harem girl, her status was a little higher than a servant, and so she moved freely and ignored by the servants as she approached Balthazar's table.

She was dressed in the clothing she'd worn when she'd come to him the night before. It was a loose and flowing garment that nevertheless hid little about her body. It was sheer across her breasts and a light purple. He believed she'd adopted the color because of his own interest in her. It may or may not have been her idea to do so, but it pleased him anyway.

She bowed slightly as she approached the table. A mischievous smile played over her muzzle and she said, “My lord, I don't think you should eat like that.”

Everyone in the room seemed to freeze. Balthazar himself stared at her openly. Killy stepped forward and hissed, “How dare you?”

Balthazar held up his hand and Killy backed off. He wiped his mouth delicately and said, “What do you mean by that, Najya?” He fully expected a small lecture about his weight and how he should eat less. He had had other harem girls say similar things to him in the past, which was part of the reason he did not have any stay for breakfast any longer. If he hadn't had such bad dreams and overslept, he would not have allowed Najya to stay either.

Najya smiled and lowered herself to the floor, sitting at the table without an invitation to do so. She reached for a grape and put it in her mouth, giving Balthazar a momentary glimpse of its dark red skin on her tongue before she closed her mouth. She said, “If you eat in this manner, there will be nothing left for me, my lord.” She smiled at him, her brown eyes still mischievous.

Balthazar laughed out loud and put a hand over hers as she reached for another grape. “My dear, please call me Balthazar. You did last night. And you are quite right, I was being rather greedy even though I knew I had a guest for breakfast.“ He picked up the grape in his own hands and placed it in her mouth. She did not do as he expected, as other harem girls had: she did not close her lips over his fingers. She did not attempt to be seductive at all. Instead, she gently put her teeth on the round red skin and drew it from his hand without touching his fur. Somehow, that was even more erotic.

She said, “My--Balthazar, you didn't sleep well. May I ask why?”

Again the room became suddenly silent and Balthazar felt Killy bristling nearby. He looked up and dismissed everyone except the research assistants who were on the other side of the room and oblivious to Balthazar's business. “You may return this evening, Killy. All the servants take the day.”

“But your lunch!“

Balthazar smiled gently. “I'm in no danger of wasting away.”

Killy bowed and herded the servants out of the room. Soon, it was quieter. He turned his full attention now to Najya, who was eating small bites of kiwi fruit. She smiled again. “I appreciate the privacy. I am surprised that you feel I am worthy of it.”

“My dreams are private.”

Najya bowed suddenly, her head on the table. “I'm sorry! I've been too forward!” Her movements were sudden, and Balthazar was caught by surprise.

Balthazar lifted her chin. “No, I enjoy your attention.”

Najya lifted herself slowly and sat back. “Really?”

“Yes. We've never talked this way before. I'm enjoying it.”

“Really?” Her eyes were bright. “Then, maybe you will let me be a little more forward.”

Balthazar chuckled and leaned back. He liked her youth and her daring. “What is it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I'll tell you if you tell me about your dream.”

“Making bargains with a prince?”

She lifted a grape and said, “Is there anyone else here to bargain with?”

“There's Zed, my research assistant.”

“It is not his dreams I want to hear about.”

Balthazar was touched by this attention. He got plenty of notice every day, from the ministrations of his servants, through his discussions with his family about government issues within their principality, even through academic recognition by many people within his chosen field of study: theoretical physics and mathematics. However, he never received this kind of personal attention. She seemed to want to know for no reason other than sheer curiosity and perhaps she also cared.

Balthazar shifted and smoothed his robes over her belly. “It's a recurring dream, Najya. Sometimes, I dream about my injury, about how I took a spear through my hips, and another through my legs. I was nearly paralyzed. But that's not what I dreamed last night.”

“That sounds like a terrible thing to remember.”

“It is, but I was trained to deal with that sort of thing. I was a warrior when I was younger.”

“Balthazar, you are still young.”

He smiled, “I feel like an old man. Anyway, that is not what I dreamed. Instead, I remember being in the hospital, waking up with a pain so great, I could hardly stand it. I remember the whiteness of the place, the alien feel of it. I'd been rushed to the States because the best neurosurgeons were there. I know they saved my life, but they didn't know I was awake. They were saying that we are a barbaric people in Rhiyad, that our ways are foolish. When I dream and remember in my dreams, I feel the anger I felt on that day all over again.”

“I didn't know.”

“You wouldn't. No one is supposed to talk about it. My family feels it brings me pain to remember what I once was and to remember what I went through. No one is supposed to mention it. I'm not what they had hoped I would become.” He stopped and looked at Najya.She was watching him and listening, her eyes steady. “What were you going to be forward about?”

Najya's face became even more serious. “I'd like to ask you something.”

Balthazar automatically stopped eating and folded his hands in front of him as if he were receiving a supplication, even though it had been years since he had done so. He wondered what she would ask and found himself full of the feeling he experienced when faced with a particularly sticky mental puzzle. He was full of anticipation, and he had to admit, that a foolish part of him hoped it had something to do with love.

“I'd like you to teach me read.”

At first Balthazar was disappointed, but then he felt intense curiosity and was warm with pride that she asked him--she could have asked anyone. Anyway, it was foolish to expect her to have feelings for him. She liked him, but he was sure it didn't go any further than that. She was a harem girl: it was her job to make love.

Balthazar shifted a little. “Why aren't you able to read? Education is important in the harems. All harem men and women have the opportunity to go to college for free once they retire.” Retirement was often at a fairly young age, making the harems more than just the “dens of pleasure,” as they were imagined by outsiders.

“I didn't grow up in this harem or any other harem, Balthazar. I was a thief and I tried to pickpocket your mother in the market!”

Balthazar laughed. “My mother? She probably put you in a head-lock.”

“She did,” Najya laughed. “Then she asked me what I was doing and took a good look at me. I was really a mess, Balthazar. I was skin and bones, I had fleas. I had nobody to look after me. I'm only just 18, and I've been living on the streets since I was 12, when my parents died. The Queen, she took pity on me and asked me to come here as either a servant or a harem girl. I chose to be in the harem.”

“Your parents didn't teach you to read?”

“They couldn't read either, Balthazar, but they did bring me up to speak properly and to have some manners. I can't say that we were always close, but they did try their best with me. They died of the Fever.”

“My mother brought you here?”

“Yes. The day I turned 18, they released me in the women's harem, dressed in the kind of outfit I'm wearing now. The months prior to that, they fed me, groomed me and taught me how to behave. The day you saw me and asked for me, the first day, that was my birthday.”

Balthazar was tickled. “Why didn't you say anything about that?”

“I did not know that you would care. I was new and you were my first.”

“Not your first lover?”

“No... they trained me in the harem. You know they do that.”

Balthazar really didn't know. He'd never bothered to learn such things before.

She was looking at him expectantly. He realized that her eyelashes were very long and as beautiful as she looked coming to his rooms at night, she was even more beautiful in the daytime, her fur shining and glossy. “I will teach you to read.”

He drew himself up, pulled his legs up under him and snapped his fingers. He smiled at Najya's open surprise and then her obvious joy. The finger-snap brought a scribe carrying a folded laptop under his arms. Balthazar looked at him and frowned. “Sit,” he commanded. The scribe sat and opened the laptop. “Send this message to the Matron of the Harem.” The scribe moved his hands over the computer's keyboard, his dark paws fluttering over keys as he opened programs and awaited further commands. “'Dear Matron Lightner, I declare Najya to be my servant in the harem and want her marked appropriately. She is to be brought to my rooms every evening at sundown unless I indicate otherwise. She is to belong to me.' Now send it and go.” The scribe did something to the computer, folded it back up and hurried to the other side of the room.

Najya looked up at Balthazar. She seemed a little frightened. He wondered if she was worried about what she'd just gotten herself into. To be marked as a “possession” of a prince was something many in the harem aspired to, but some women and men felt it was restrictive and disliked it. He couldn't imagine that anyone would want to belong to him.

He shouldn't have worried. She launched herself at him, tackling him and knocking him over with her tiny body. She planted a kiss on his muzzle, straddled his body and hugged his shoulders, which she could get her arms around. Balthazar smiled up at her, her head tilted sideways, tears welling up in her eyes. He reached around and put his hands on her arms, stroking her fur gently.

She kissed him again, more passionately, causing the blood in his body to stir. The servants looked away, pretending that nothing was happening, as she kissed down his neck, over his chest, parting the robes to reach the fur below. Her small, deft hands played over his body, touching him everywhere. Balthazar sighed and propped himself up on his elbows, watching her undo the clasps of his robes and undergarments. She found his cock, growing hard and Balthazar cursed his fatness, trying to lean forward to watch her better. He stretched his neck, craning forward, finally catching a glimpse of her dark paws playing over the smooth skin of his organ. Her warm touch drove him wild and any thoughts he had left him. He could only think of her touch.

She did not do what he expected. She didn't take his cock in her mouth. Instead, she pulled down her own loose trousers and mounted him, there in his day room, next to the breakfast table, in front of his servants.

He didn't care. It was her way of saying “Thank you.”

When she leaned back and howled, he smiled, watching her back arch, her small nipples tighten. She gripped the fur on his belly tightly, nearly ripping some of it out. He climaxed right after her, and she tightened her muscles around his orgasm, as if she was climaxing a little again, and perhaps she was. She licked her lips, flashed her teeth and crawled in closer to his face, wrapping her arms around his chest.

He rested there with her, looking up at the ceiling. In his mind, he began to work on a lesson plan, but the weight of her head on his chest brought him back to the moment. He stroked her fur for a few moments and held her close. It was the first time he hadn't started work on time in years, and he didn't care at all.

* * *

Najya was escorted back to the harems later that morning. She had finished breakfast with Balthazar and he seemed happier than ever with her. She was surprised that he seemed to welcome the extra work she knew she was bringing his way. It was widely known throughout the palace that Balthazar was always busy with work. Whether it was his own research that occupied his time, or it was work for the Royal family, he was constantly busy. She had once heard him say to a servant one night in his rooms that if he couldn't make war with his body, it would be with his mind. He would employ it for strategy in wartime and to create order out of the universe in peacetime.

She found it interesting that he still thought of himself as a warrior. He hardly looked like a warrior, until you looked into his eyes. They were hard and icy. As soft as the rest of his person was (he hardly even showed teeth when he smiled), his eyes were terribly sharp and she suspected his mind was dangerous. He was quick with his thoughts. Although she noticed his thoughts were faster and more decisive with the servants than with her. She wondered if it was possible that he really did like her.

Walking down the corridors, her bare feet feeling the cold stone, she remembered that she was never to entertain such thoughts as a harem girl. It was unbecoming. It was foolish. Hardly any of the hundreds of women in the harem would become a concubine to a prince--maybe a baron, but probably not a prince. And that was saying a lot, since there were seven princes in this family.

But it was hard to let go of fantasies. When she'd lived on the street, that was her biggest form of entertainment--making up stories for herself. She listened to outdoor storytellers and watched puppet shows whenever she was able to. She had a large imagination and fantasy life and she found herself immersed in it sometimes.

She followed her guard until they reached the large gated doors of the women's harem. The guard, a female warrior from Hispera, inclined her head and ruffled her wings. She was a gryphon with white wings and a sharp beak. Najya had never seen anything like her before, but then, the palace was always full of surprises for Najya. She wondered if she'd ever get used to it.

Another guard came forward and whispered to the gryphon. They looked at each other and then at Najya and the second guard finally said, “Mama Light wants to see you straight away.”