Soon the servants began to bring out plates of food. They looked at Robellia in her nightdress with distant expressions, as if she were just another decorative vase in the room. Robellia bowed her head instinctively. The shame she felt didn’t last long; the aroma of food wafted through the air and her mouth watered involuntarily.

Akan began to eat, cutting the food into deliberate pieces and slowly bringing them to his mouth. Meat, cheese, fish, vegetables – dish after dish disappeared into Akan’s mouth. Each time he chewed, Robellia swallowed her own saliva, remembering vividly the taste of such food. Her toes curled against the cold floor. What could she have done to deserve even a single bite?

The meal was remarkably quiet. It seemed that Akan’s imposition of silence wasn’t directed at Robellia alone. The servants moved cautiously, constantly changing the plates in front of the emperor with meticulous care. Occasionally they glanced at the princess, who looked more like a beggar gazing longingly into a restaurant window than the last surviving member of the royal family. There was nothing noble left in her appearance.

By now, Robellia wasn’t even aware of the servants’ presence. She was completely focused on the food and the way it was disappearing into Akan’s mouth.

Finally, Akan took a sip of his after-dinner drink and wiped his lips. Only then did he look at Robellia. Instinctively, she met his eyes, almost grateful for his attention.

“Come here.”

Robellia hesitated, but stepped towards Akan. The rough texture of the carpet against her bare feet only added to her discomfort. She stood beside his ornate chair, her eyes darting repeatedly to the table. Most of the food was almost untouched; Akan had sampled only a small portion of each. The sight made her stomach churn with desperate anticipation.

Akan fixed his gaze on Robellia’s face. As their wandering eyes met, Robellia quickly looked down in embarrassment. Then she noticed that the front of Akan’s trousers were bulging. She knew he was about to give her an order, and perhaps he would allow her to eat afterwards. The thought gave her a sense of relief that made her feel disgusted with herself.

Akan slowly undid his belt. Robellia swallowed hard as her eyes fell on his raw, exposed p*nis. Hurry, hurry, she thought, her mind growing increasingly confused, unsure of what it was she was craving.

Akan’s gaze flickered to Robellia’s face before dropping back to the floor. Without waiting for instructions, Robellia instinctively dropped to her knees. It seemed the right thing to do as Akan parted his legs slightly to make room. Robellia moved closer, positioning herself closer to Akan’s gr*in.

She opened her mouth and took the tip of the man’s rounded p*nis. Tears welled in Robellia’s eyes as she parted her lips wider, her mouth filling with saliva, and moved her tongue eagerly to lick the gl*ns. At this point, her only thought was the hope that Akan would soon ej*culate into her mouth.

Although Robellia’s moans were weak, Akan made no effort to intervene. She would soon realise that taking half of the sh*ft wouldn’t be enough to make him finish. Akan rested one arm on the table and waited patiently and calmly.

As Akan had expected, Robellia quickly recognised the problem. Only a smooth, clear liquid dripped out and there was no sign that Akan had reached his climax. He neither forced her head down nor pushed it deeper into her throat. After all, the only one who would suffer from prolonging this ordeal was Robellia herself.

Robellia opened her scarred and healed lips wide and gradually pushed the p*nis, as if it no longer belonged to her, acting without hesitation. Her nose pressed fully against Akan’s gr*in.

Behind the overwhelming scent of the man, Robellia could still detect the lingering aroma of food. At this point, it was the primal instinct for food that drove her every action.

Robellia moved her head back and forth, taking the scarred, grotesque p*nis into her small mouth several times before it emerged. The slippery moisture coating it was her own drool.

Still no sign of release, she tightened her lips and sucked desperately. Each time the gl*ns touched her uvula and slid down her throat, a strained moan escaped her, but Robellia continued relentlessly, as if punishing herself. Soon the tears that had been welling up in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. Please. Please, just finish. She moved her head with fervour, pressing her tongue against the sh*ft.

At one point, Akan grabbed the back of Robellia’s head and pushed it down. She choked slightly as a stream of s*men was released into her throat. First a long spurt filled her throat, then he pulled back halfway, allowing the remaining fluid to coat her tongue. Robellia’s throat worked as she swallowed the sharp, bitter substance.

When Akan’s hand didn’t release her head, Robellia moved her tongue again and licked the now half-released p*nis clean. The corners of her mouth stung, as if they had torn again. Slowly, a sense of reality crept back in and Robellia reflected on her actions – how, overcome by hunger, she had willingly cast aside her dignity.

Akan loosened his grip and casually patted Robellia on the head. As his hand moved away, Robellia’s strength gave out and she collapsed to her side. Akan wiped himself clean with the cloth he had used on his mouth, then tucked himself back into his trousers.

Rising from his seat, Akan looked down at Robellia sprawled on the floor with a smug expression on his face. His gaze met the abyss of self-loathing in her tear-stained eyes.

“Enjoy your meal.”

Akan made a breezy farewell and left the dining hall without a backward glance. As Robellia sat in stunned silence, the servants promptly began to clear the table. Plates, still filled with untouched food, were carried away one by one.

‘No, this can’t be happening!’

Robellia suddenly jumped to her feet. So much food had been served that even the untouched remnants still filled the table.

Robellia hastily grabbed a meat pie with her bare hands. The servants didn’t stop her, but they didn’t stop clearing the table either. Panic set in. As she hurriedly chewed and swallowed the meat pie, Robellia desperately grabbed at anything she could find and shoved the food into her mouth. Tears streamed down her face, but the food was so delicious. Pride was no longer an issue – it had already been cast aside.

Robellia stuffed food into her mouth, bite after desperate bite, until her stomach could take no more. When there were no more dishes on the table, a servant moved to take away the basket of bread. Like someone possessed, Robellia lunged at it, grabbing as many pieces as she could.

A familiar man entered the room. At the sight of him, Robellia’s face darkened once more. It was time to return to her cage.

Her face and hands smeared with food, Robellia walked down the corridor with an armful of bread. Every time the servants looked at her, the shame was so overwhelming that she wished she could disappear. But she couldn’t bring herself to let go of the precious bread – not knowing when she would have the chance to eat again.

Akan had made a trivial request and given her an equally trivial reward. That, more than anything else, made Robellia feel utterly miserable. Perhaps if the request had been harder to fulfil, or the reward greater, she wouldn’t have felt so humiliated.

Robellia measured the depth of the despair she couldn’t escape. “I want to die” – no, that wasn’t quite right. If she had the courage to die, she would have done it already. The window in her bedroom was always open. She didn’t want to die. Had she continued to starve, her will to live might have been crushed. But the fullness she felt now kept that will alive.

She stopped abruptly at her bedroom door. The pitch-black night sky stretched endlessly through the hall window. If she couldn’t take her own life, she wished Akan would do it for her. If she was struggling to survive, let him end her mercilessly – with one swift blow.

Robellia’s despair and hope were painted in the same shade.

A rustling sound startled Robellia awake. The faint moonlight filtering into the dark room illuminated the bed. She could make out the shape of a man below her waist. Robellia gasped and held her breath.

Just as she was about to scream, a hand reached out from under her chin and covered her mouth. Turning her head in alarm, Robellia saw m*n on either side of her, both of whom had climbed onto the bed. Another man was holding her arms.