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 Ninety-Three: Kenet
93: Kenet
I tried to be stoic as the fight began. I tried to kneel off to the side where the mage had put me and draw no attention to myself. I needed him to believe me harmless and cowed.
When Jorin felled Bear, though, I am sure I had been as wide-eyed as an owl. I had never seen Bear bested in combat, and I had never seen Jorin attack someone that way. I held my tongue, though, saying nothing, not even a whimper.
The mage’s eyes were not on me then, anyway, but on the fight unfolding before him. I had leaned forward, too, in anticipation, and now as I tried to settle back, I drove the stone phallus deeper into myself. Oh, I wanted it out! I was no longer aroused, I was spent and scared, and it went so deep I was afraid to move quickly. Which was no doubt the purpose of it.
It was also rooted to the spot where Seroi had set it, so that when he dragged my father close to me, I could not even edge away.
“Alas, my king, I deem you the most expendable as well as the most violable.” Seroi said to him. “Your hole will be by far the tightest here and you will enjoy being fucked the least.”
My father put up as much of a fight as he could, but between the mage’s actual hands and his magical, invisible ones, he soon had my father trussed in such a way with cords and ropes that his mouth was stretched wide like a horse’s with a bit, his arms were bent immobile behind his back, and another set of ropes framed and exposed his hole. He was bent over directly in front of me, his cheek to the stone, which turned his face toward me, his eyes begging me for something, though whether it was help or forgiveness or what I could not tell.
“Violation,” said Seroi. “The basis of the simplest form of Night Magic. The cruder the violation, the more raw the power. Let this be a lesson to you, Prince Kenet.”
He opened his hand and a rusted metal spike, smaller than the phallus inside me, but much rougher looking, flew to him.
“It is, in a way, shame to ruin you this way, Korl. I could have gleaned so much more from you later, in time. Indeed, which would you find worse, my prick tearing you open? Or the kind of pleasurable fucking that would cause your milksacks to empty it feels so good? We have no time for the latter, I’m afraid.”
Seroi held the rusted iron toward me and I could see that it was not entirely rust that was flaking off it, but dried blood and darker things. “Spit on it if you think your father deserves even that small mercy,” the mage said.
I had no desire to see Seroi tear anyone, much less my father, open with the thing, but I could not help but remember what my father had said to poor Captain Jaiks in the reception room this morning. I also knew that my spittle upon the metal would not ease the way at all, but only make me even more of an accessory to the violation than I already was… so I sneered and said, “My father always said that only the kind of men who enjoyed something up their arse should receive anything to ease the way.”
My father made a choked sound and I could see his eyes full of regret.
“Spoken like a true prince. Well then, I shall prepare the way for myself with this spike, which is coated with the blood of the innards of your old friend Sergetten, Korl. I used this on the miserable traitor but hours ago.”
My father made more helpless noises against the rope in his mouth. Seroi tugged on two of them and they pulled his arsecheeks even further apart. Then he pressed the tip of the spike to the center of that dark pucker and pushed.
It went in perhaps as deep as a finger would have gone. Seroi pulled it free slowly and my father’s arse grabbed at the metal as it left him, pulling like bread dough on a baker’s hands.
“Help me with him, Kenet,” Seroi said. My hands sprang free of the bonds that had held them behind my back and I stayed silent as he clamped my fingers around the handle of the obscene spike. So much for my attempt not to be a part of this violation.
The mage held my hands around the metal and pushed it in again. This time he moved the spike in a circle once it was seated, prompting more wordless sounds, these more enraged. I could not meet my father’s eye, looking instead at the place where the metal went into his body.
“Oh yes, such power, I haven’t even put my cock in you, Korl, and already you feed me deliciously,” Seroi said. “I’ve half a mind to just cut a hole in you somewhere and fuck you there, to make sure you don’t accidentally derive any pleasure from the action at all. But oh, there’s a part of me, too, that knows that it is this hole in particular that you loathe, this action in particular that you fear. Common men and kings alike have cocks, and common men and kings alike can be fucked like whores…”
Then quite suddenly a dark shape flew over my head as something struck me on the cheek. When I looked, for a moment I thought Jorin had escaped the circle and was wrestling with Seroi, but this attack had come from behind me. And Seroi’s attacker was screaming at him.
It was Sergetten. I called his name as the two mages rolled on the stone a few feet away from us, but Sergetten was unlikely to have heard me over his own shouts and the straining of his limbs as he tried to get his hands around Seroi’s throat.
I set the spike down and pulled at the ropes on my father. I loosened the one at his head, but I could not budge the ones around his arms.
“Kenet,” he croaked as he worked his mouth free.
I lifted myself carefully off of the stone phallus, which stayed where it was affixed, and then dragged my father back from the fray. I pushed him into a sitting position and cast about for a knife to cut the ropes with.
“Kenet,” my father said again. “I… I’m so sorry.”
“For what, Father?” Ah, there, the knife Jorin had been threatening Seroi with when we’d arrived. I cut my father’s arms and legs free, while the two mages continued to wrestle.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get to say that to him, so I’m saying it to you, instead.”
“Him? Do you mean Jorin?”
“I mean Sergetten,” my father said, just as Seroi wrapped an arm around Sergetten’s throat, cutting off the words that Sergetten had been screaming. I had not realized what they were until they had stopped. Don’t touch him you filthy traitor, you’ve ruined him well enough, and things of that nature.
“I love you, my son,” my father said, “but I owe this to the man who has been most loyal to me. I know not whether I can ever truly atone for my wrongs. But I must try.”
And then he leaped upon the back of Seroi, while I sat there, stunned. Utterly stunned.
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About the author: Cecilia Tan is the award-winning author of many erotic books and stories and the founder of Circlet Press.
