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 Sixty-Two: Jorin
62: Jorin
The next morning Sergetten hooded me again, and broke his fast upon the terrace outside his rooms. Besides the hood I wore only a drape of cloth that covered my privates, and he bade me kneel beside him while he ate, favoring me with morsels from time to time as the hood left my mouth free. A bit of meat, then a crust of bread sweetened with honey, and so on. The autumn chill was starting to creep down the mountains and I shivered some while trying to hold an obedient pose, warmed only by his quiet praise when I succeeded.
A knock came at the door. He answered it, leaving me where I was, and I could hear him raise his voice but not make out the words. He returned to me a few moments later and led me back inside.
“I am summoned to a meeting with the Lord High Mage,” he said, voice dry, but I heard the tightness in it.
“Sir?” I kept my hands behind my back as I settled back on my heels, resisting the urge to try to lift the hood.
“I do not think it would be safe for you to accompany me, and yet I fear if I leave you here, he will suspect…” He trailed off as if considering. “No, I cannot risk it. If he were to stick his cock in you, he would know your secrets. And your arse is far too enticing to tempt him with. No, I shall have to tell him that you are still recovering from Korl’s treatment of you. Perhaps I will learn something of his mind if I share that little tidbit.”
“What should I do?”
“You will have to remain here. The maids will come to straighten the bed and retrieve the dishes. I will chain you in place. Do not speak to them. I do not believe they would dare touch you.”
“Yes, sir.” I felt the tug as he used the lead to pull me toward the foot of the bed, and then chained me there. “What shall I do if you do not return?”
He kissed me suddenly then, and I was startled into struggling for a moment before I surrendered to him. He ate at my mouth as if he could devour my soul through it and still wanted more. “I shall return,” he said as he let me go and then departed.
The maids did come, a short while later, and I could hear their female voices whispering around the edges of the room as they cleaned. I could hear soft footsteps, too, as one of them approached me, then retreated twice as fast as she had crept up.
A giggle. Then another. There must have been two of them, and they didn’t sound any older than Kenet or myself. Another whisper.
I stayed as I was, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, my hands at my sides.
I gasped as a ticklishly soft sensation ran across my nipples, followed by a burst of giggles and again the pitter-pat of retreating feet.
Sergetten had said not to speak to them. So I held my tongue and waited for them to go away.
But the soft sensation came again, for longer this time, and I realized it was one of the maids using her duster on my skin. This time she “dusted” my chest until my nipples were aching hard, and other parts of me were beginning to stir. I felt my cock begin to protrude past the hanging scrap of cloth that was intended to cover it.
Oh, the curious minx, she went there next, the softness of feathers—or was it fur?—all over my cock, which rose to its full length. The whispering took on a sharp, urgent tone as the sensation lifted. They went back and forth quite a bit, and then with a last burst of scandalized giggles, they at last left me alone.
Once they were gone, I stroked myself with a firm grip, just to remind my skin what a real touch felt like, and then I settled back to wait once more. I could feel my heartbeat in my cock, and it counted out the moments until Sergetten would return.
When he did, I heard the door open and shut, and then him speak a few words in the old tongue. I presumed it was either a magical way to lock the door or to prevent spying, perhaps both.
He came to me then with a chuckle. “Are you so eager to show me you are ready to be ridden?” he said, kneeling close and swatting my erection. I gritted my teeth against the next slap, but it did not come.
I did not say anything about the maids. “I feel fine, sir.”
“Very well. Tonight, after banquet, I will attempt the far-seeing spell. That is, if you have not changed your mind.”
“I have not.”
His hand closed around my cock and he milked me for a while, until he made a satisfied sound in his throat. “There we are,” he said, and a moment later I felt his tongue brush across the head of my cock, then the tip worming at the slit.
And then he let go and sat back with a lip-smacking sound, as if he had just tasted the most delectable thing in the bit of clear nectar that precedes the white milk.
“You cannot appear at banquet in such a state,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “Not even as a whoreslave.”
I jerked a little in surprise. “I am to appear at banquet?”
“We both are,” he said, wrapping his hand around my length again and stroking slowly. “I will swaddle your cock and arse well enough to prevent a scandal, perhaps even put a tunic on you, but you will still kneel at my feet and remain hooded.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We will be seated at the high table, of course, where all can see you, but I do not believe there will be any demand for a demonstration of your talents. Sit still and we will stay no longer than necessary. Once we return to these rooms, I will try far-seeing.” His hand moved a bit more quickly then, and he nibbled at my chin. “For now, I think I should take care of your unseemly state by non-magical means.”
“What are you—” I broke off as his mouth gave me the answer to my question, enveloping me in wet heat as his head bobbed up and down in my lap.
I spilled fairly quickly and then he unchained me and put me into bed. I did not think I was sleepy, but when I woke, he was shaking me gently and telling me it was time for banquet.
It was like and yet unlike every banquet I had ever taken part in, as I knelt there, blind and docile, yet I could hear the activity going on all around me, so familiar and yet now so very different. I even heard the low-voiced report of Jaiks explaining that the latest messenger from the military had not arrived as expected and that sentries were being sent out along the road.
I do not have to tell you that it was frankly terrifying to crawl into that room where both Korl and Seroi would sit just a few feet from me while I tried to play the part of good pet. It was especially hard when the king at one point took it upon himself to approach as if I were a noble’s hunting dog, brought to table for the novelty of it. He petted my head and spoke quietly to Sergetten and Seroi about what a good pet I was, in fact, but I could not help but tremble when he did.
The king expressed that he was surprised to see it, and it was Seroi who answered that it was but expected, for would not a hunting dog that had been beaten cower?
Sergetten took me back to his rooms quickly after that.
He removed the hood from my head then, tousling my hair and then tying a soft cloth over my eyes. I touched it questioningly.
“For far-seeing, you will need to see inward, not outward,” he said.
“Wait, what? I thought you would be the one doing the seeing.”
“We both shall,” he said, and explained nothing more. “I will bind you for this, too.”
“Being bound or not, does it matter?” I asked, bitterness rising in my throat. “Korl did not bother to bind me when he—”
“Silence,” he hissed, and ensnared my wrists in straps of strong cloth. I felt the pull and the next thing I knew my chin met the post at the end of his bed. “There are many ways to be helpless. And many ways to be violated.”
I said nothing in answer to that, merely rubbed the raw edge of the memory of the king’s abuse like picking at a scab. I gritted my teeth.
His hand ran down my back as if checking my skin for blemishes. He pulled my arsecheeks apart, examining me, then gave one cheek a swat.
But he did not progress farther in the ritual preparation, for there came a thundering at the outer chamber’s door.
“Leave me be!” he roared in answer, but the pounding only redoubled.
Sergetten growled and spoke a word, and suddenly a voice came clearly to my ear—the small window at the top of the door had flown open at his command.
“Sergetten, you are harboring a known criminal, a traitor to the crown,” came Jaiks’ gravelly voice. “Hand Jorin over to us and you will face no penalty yourself.”
My breath caught in my throat and I struggled against the straps. He stilled me with a hand between my shoulderblades. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he answered. “There is no one here but myself and my Frangi whoreslave.”
But then came the King’s own voice. “Sergetten, you disappoint me.”
“My king, you know I would never betray you,” Sergetten said in answer. “I would do nothing to bring you harm—”
“You disappoint me greatly,” Korl continued. “Seroi himself is here, Sergetten. You will not be able to keep this door barred for much longer. Did you truly think that I could fail to recognize the scars on Jorin’s back at close quarters?”
Sergetten was silent then for a long moment, as if he were trying hard to think of an explanation. I could feel the tension in his hand.
Korl was impatient as ever. “Not when I put every one of those scars there myself,” he said, anger and betrayal burning in his voice. “No, there is only one back I recognize better than Jorin’s, Sergetten.”
Sergetten drew a sharp breath. “My king—”
“Yours.”
Sergetten’s hand tightened into a fist. My own breath was none too smooth as my mind reeled. I suddenly made sense of the familiarity with which they spoke to one another in private, their intimacy, and Sergetten’s seething resentments. It had to be true. Sergetten had once been none other than Korl’s own ladra’an.
* * *
Impatient to find out the fate of Kenet and Jorin? Book one (chapters 1-56) is now on sale for only 99 cents in ebook from all your favorite retailers or direct from Circlet Press!
About the author: Cecilia Tan is the award-winning author of many erotic books and stories and the founder of Circlet Press.
