The Prince’s Boy: Chapter 85

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 Eighty-Five: Kenet

85: Kenet

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I slept in his arms. Yes, I did. I was a fool to waste even a moment grieving over my petty illusions, wasn’t I? A fool to waste even a moment of precious time we could have spent together. We might all be killed in the coming attack on the castle. And my suffering was nothing when weighed against his. Nothing at all. I should have been the one tied to the post and called a fool.

I would waste not a moment more. I slept in his arms, where I had belonged ever since the first time I had clung to him and refused to let go. Continue reading The Prince’s Boy: Chapter 85

The Prince’s Boy: Chapter 84

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 Eight-Four: Jorin

84: Jorin

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I was sitting empty-handed by the Night Riders’ cooking fire when Kan sat down and thrust some waybread into my hand. “Idiot. Just because you would have killed any man who did what you did to him, doesn’t mean you can starve yourself to death.” He sat down on the log next to me.

Willim looked up from across the fire. “What? Who did Weltskin try to kill?” he asked. Continue reading The Prince’s Boy: Chapter 84

The Prince’s Boy: Chapter 83

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 Eighty-Three: Kenet

83: Kenet

kenet-theprincesboy

I was sitting up in a tangle of blankets on a sleeping pallet when Marksin came into the tent carrying a silver tray. He set it down next to me on a trunk and I saw it held a silver wine cup.

“I know it is better fresh from the source,” he said,”but…”

“Thank you, Marksin,” I said, and drank it before I could think about it much more. It was cold and thick, and had the scent of heartbreak. But I was now done with tears. Continue reading The Prince’s Boy: Chapter 83