Welcome to The Prince’s Boy by Cecilia Tan, a tale of a prince and his whipping boy ensnared in a plot of dark erotic magic. Warning: explores themes of dubious consent and situations of sexual jeopardy. NSFW.

A new chapter appears every Wednesday. This week is Chapter Ten: Kenet

10: Kenet

Jorin was as quiet as always during banquet. His eyes roamed the room as they always did, while I made small talk with the baron seated to my right and his wife, visitors from the western coast. Jorin truly would make a good guard, I thought, regardless what fancy I held in my head.

The baron and his lady got up to join one of the courtly dances and I remained in my seat, wondering what I was going to tell Jorin about my mysterious lesson with Seroi. I was magically bound by the promise not to speak of it. Presumably the tug I felt on my heart each time I tried to imagine the words in my mouth was a warning that if I broke the promise, I would die.

This only made me the more curious as to what exactly I could say. And what story would I tell in its place? Was I allowed to say the Lord High Mage was teaching me in place of Sergetten? Or did even that fact have to remain secret? Sergetten was not at banquet either, some high-born lady sitting in his customary seat at my father’s table. Where was he?

I decided the person who would know would be Bear, so I made my way toward him, sitting near the door, his eyes scanning the room, too. “What are you looking for?” I asked, as I placed myself in front of him, my arms crossed.

“Trouble,” he said, but he smiled a wide smile. “And how are you this evening, my prince? I would have thought you’d join the dancing.” At this he laughed. I never danced, and he knew it. I wondered if the reason I never wanted to was that Seroi’s magic had been suppressing my normal desire for girls all this time? The court dances often seemed to me to be an excuse to touch them.

“Do you know where Sergetten has gone?” I took a seat next to him then, the music for the dance getting louder as it sped up. “He was supposed to tut—”

“Hush about that now, cub.” Bear’s face still had a smile on it, but I knew the smile wasn’t for me, but for anyone who might be watching us talk.

“Trouble?” I asked.

He just nodded and clapped me on the shoulder. “We’ll speak more about it later, eh?”

I returned to my seat. Jorin watched the baron and his wife. He leaned over to murmur in my ear. “His doublet parts when they spin… see? Thunder’s roll, he looks built like a stallion, doesn’t he? I bet you they don’t stay through dessert. He wants too much to plough her on one of the castle’s fine beds.”

I tried to hide a laugh as I saw what Jorin meant. There were certain moves in the dance that inadvertently revealed the size of the sausage he was hiding under the rather tight cloth of his leggings, worn in the coastal style.

“I won’t take that bet,” I murmured back. Indeed, at the end of the dance the two of them returned to our table only to say their goodbyes to me. They then went to make their goodbyes to my father, and were soon gone.

“Do you know what room they are in?” I asked, as the musicians struck up another dancing tune.

“I heard him say the South Wing,” Jorin said. “But I don’t know which room.”

I tugged his sleeve to mean “let us go,” and then bowed to my father. It was one of the games we had played when we were much younger, of course, sneaking out of bed to spy on my father’s guests. They rarely did anything of note, sometimes playing cards, or drinking too much brandy. The ambassador from Rykik sang badly. But I found myself with the burning urge to see what these guests would do.

Not every room was suitable for spying on, but we knew the back passages, the niches and spaces, and if we were lucky we might even find them in a room we could see into. Some of the back passages were made for the passing of servants, but the best for spying only I could open the secret doors to.

My heart quickened its pace as we made our way up the dark, winding stairwell from the laundry to see a sliver of light from a room ahead. A warm light from fire and lamp.

Perfect. They were in a bedroom that was nearly round, the bed directly across from the door we now hid behind, two gaps between the heavy wooden boards allowing us both the ability to see.

“Get on your knees, you wanton harlot,” he was saying. His legs were bare, but he still wore the doublet and some of his other clothing, unstrung and hanging from his shoulders.

She was laughing as she turned around so that he could undo her dress for her. “Yes, my lord. A baroness in public, your own personal whore in private, is that what you want?”

“Yes, lightning strike me if I lie, yes, you know me too well.” He undid something and the dress fell open at the back. I found my mouth fell open as he rubbed the ruddy length of his cock against the white globe of her arsecheek. He bent her over the bed then, and the next thing I saw was his cock disappearing into her body.

Jorin’s hand found my breeches with unerring accuracy, and I felt him free my cock while I kept my eyes on the scene in the bedroom. But then I gasped as I felt something that was most definitely not his hand move wetly up my shaft. I looked down to see him looking up at me, his face striped by the lamplight through the cracks, and then he did it again, licking me from root to tip.

I pressed myself against the stone of the passage as he grinned at me, following on his knees and gripping my balls with one hand, not too tightly, just enough that I couldn’t pull away—though why would I want to? I wanted him to do it again. I couldn’t speak for fear the baron and his wife might hear us, so I asked for more by thrusting my hips up, resulting in a tug on my balls.

But he knew what I meant, and did it again, his eyes finally moving from mine to examine my cock as if it were a particularly delicious treat. And then licking it as if it were.

I wanted to ask what it tasted like, but I couldn’t. Now he moved to short licks all around the top and I had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out, it felt so good.

Quite suddenly he was doing up my breeches, but my pang of disappointment was short-lived. He led me back to our room as quickly as we could go, then knocked me flat upon my bed, divesting me of my clothes from the waist down and then kissing his way up my bare thigh until he reached my cock again.

“Jorin…”

“Hah?” He couldn’t really speak with his tongue now licking my balls. Why did I interrupt him to make him speak? I don’t know.

“What… what made you think of this?”

He shrugged as he worked his way up the shaft again, then tickled the most sensitive spot on my cock with the tip of his tongue. I nearly came from that, bucking suddenly, but he pulled back and looked at me, taking my balls in a loose grip again. “I know how good your tongue feels against mine,” he said. “I thought it might feel nice other places, too.”

“It does f—” I broke off then, though, as his mouth engulfed my prick, and I spilled quite suddenly. He coughed, caught by surprise, and spat out what was in his mouth, only to look curiously at the softer, later spurts now oozing from the tiny slit at the tip of my cock. He licked at it carefully, probing the slit with the tip of his tongue and causing a few stronger twitches to pump out even more.

“What does it taste like?” I asked.

He laughed and ran a finger through my issue and then pushed it into my mouth. I suckled his finger and found it bitter and salty, and in my mouth I tickled his fingertip with my tongue. I let go of it then, to say “Your turn.”

“Yes, my prince.” He shed his clothes and lay back, his cock jutting out gracefully from his body and curving back toward his stomach. I wiped myself clean of my own issue with my shirt and then threw it into the laundry before crawling over to him.

I licked a stripe from the root to the tip like he had done and was pleased when his eyes rolled back into his head. His flesh tasted quite salty, just like the palm of his hand, which I had kissed and tasted from time to time, and soon I found the slippery, clear fluid that leaked from him next was as salty as tears.

I carefully fitted my mouth over the head of his prick, but he did not shoot off as I had. I was vaguely disappointed by this, and wondered if I were doing it wrong. I sucked, then, drawing as much of him in as deep as I could, and the groan that came from him was pure pleasure all the way to my core. I felt my own cock begin to stir to life again.

“Kenet,” he rasped. “You don’t have to…”

I stroked him with my hand while I talked. “You made me spill with your mouth. Don’t you want me to do the same?”

He closed his eyes a moment. “I’m not sure it’s clean.”

I snorted. “You licked mine up eagerly enough.”

“Yes, but I’m a dirt-eating bastard child,” he said. “You’re…”

“A prince, I know. Well, royalty usually get their way, don’t they? I want you to spill in my mouth so I can taste it, too.” I held his cock and licked at the head like a treat. “All right?”

He laughed. “All right, but only if you can make me come.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“Oh, a challenge, is it? Fear not, I am up to the task.” I stroked him a few more times, then bent my head to suckle him like a calf at a milk cow’s teat. I eventually resorted to suckling on the head while my fingers pumped up and down his shaft the way they normally did. He bellowed as he began to squirt into my mouth.

I coughed, too, and lost much of what I might have taken otherwise, swallowing only a little. It burned on the way down, but something about the muskiness of the scent of it made me want to lick up a little more, and rut against the bed as I did it.

Jorin noticed this after a while, rising out of his post-orgasmic stupor to swat me lightly on the leg. “Are you hard again already?” He reached for me with his hand. “Have you ever wondered what’s the most times you could spill in one night?”

“I can’t say that I have,” I answered, pumping my cock into his fist. Was that because of Seroi’s magic? Did other people wonder these things? “You?”

“Someday, we’ll find out,” he said, running his thumb over the head of my cock, spreading the slickness. “But not tonight. I bet you won’t be awake for even a full minute after I make you come the second time.”

“Hah! I bet I will.”

“Hm, will you? What will you give me if you lose?”

“What do you want?”

He grinned. “I want you to suckle my prick again. This time in the back corridor while I watch the baron and baroness do what they do.”

In the end it wouldn’t matter that I fell asleep as predicted, though. I hardly needed to be convinced to do what he wanted. We had a new game to play, and I was happy, even if it meant something new to hide from Seroi.

* * *

Can’t get enough of Kenet and Jorin? Visit The Prince’s Boy fan art gallery on Cecilia’s website!

About the author: Cecilia Tan is the award-winning author of many erotic books and stories and the founder of Circlet Press.