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 Thrteen: Jorin
Days passed without Kenet letting me touch him after that. He kept telling me he wasn’t feeling well enough, though he’d let me hold him when we were in our nightclothes. He was sleeping fitfully, too, jerking in his sleep, and sometimes moaning and rocking against me. They must have been nightmares, but my deprived body interpreted the sounds as something else. More than once I hurriedly tugged myself to completion while he slept.
That was probably the only thing that kept me from the fate of one of the guards. I had gone with Bear down to practice with the men every morning, and one day the drill involved wrestling one another to the ground. I had already gone through three rounds when one of the others, a bearded man named Dubacki, got a bit too excited while wrestling Jaiks himself.
At first I didn’t see what had caused Jaiks to stop the match and force the man to stand at attention while being upbraided, but the reason became clear soon enough. Especially when after several minutes of being lectured about perversity and self-control, his erection still had not subsided. At that point Jaiks tore open his breeches, freeing a cock that would have been hard to hide even when soft.
“Line up!” he called to the men, and Bear nudged me to get in line with the rest of them. They lined up shoulder to shoulder facing the man, who was cringing. “Open hand slap,” Jaiks then said.
The first soldier in line then went toward Dubacki, and we followed. He delivered a hard slap downward on the man’s cock. So did the next man, and the next, and the next, as we filed past him. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I didn’t dare do anything differently from the others. He was whimpering but still very hard when I gave him his smack, and I was last in the line, following the others back to our places.
Jaiks inspected the offending organ. “If anything, this milk-sucking whorefucker is harder than before,” he announced with gritted teeth. “Spread your legs. Wider. Oh, you milksucker, that’ll never do. Up on the rail.” Dubacki hopped up to sit on the top rail then, spreading his knees as wide as he could and holding on tightly. Now his balls hung low below the jutting penis.
To the rest of us Jaiks said, “Two finger slap. Go.”
Now Dubacki cried out as each man put two fingers together and slapped him right on the jewels. “Faster!” Jaiks insisted. By the time I reached him, the man had tears streaking the dirt on his face. But still his little soldier stood proudly at attention.
“Can you believe this whorefucker?” Jaiks said. “On your knees. Now.”
Dubacki stumbled as he jumped down off the fence, and crawled to the center of the practice ring.
“Riding whips, belts, or laces,” Jaiks said. “On his back until he either softens or spills his milk.” He walked around to the front of Dubacki to judge. “Go.”
Several of the men had undone their belts already. A few just had leather laces and were braiding them into short lanyards. That’s what I did with the drawstring of my breeches. And some had their riding whips in their boots already, the ones who were on cavalry duty, I assumed.
For the first time through the line, Dubacki just took the blows stoically. But as his prick remained bloody red and hard, he finally gave in and started stroking himself furiously. The blows continued to rain down as each of us took a turn, until he was bent over, leaning on one hand while the other moved like a blur, and we closed around him in a circle, the blows raining down on him now not in any particular order. He screamed and gnashed his teeth, pulling on his flesh desperately. He must have been raw and bloodying himself with the grit and dirt, but eventually he did spill, heavy wet blobs falling to the dust under him.
Jaiks whistled to end it, and Dubacki collapsed onto the dirty puddle of his own seed.
I started to pull myself to completion every morning before meeting Bear after that. I also never saw Dubacki again. I finally got up the nerve to ask Bear what had happened to him.
“Oh, he’s fine, cub. He’s a tough lad, that kind of treatment wouldn’t put him out of commission for very long,” Bear said. “But he’s been sent off to Tiger’s Mouth.”
“Where the attack was?”
“Aye. Not an assignment anyone is wanting right now. Nigh unto a suicide mission, some say.”
“That’s awful, just because he… his…”
“Well, you weren’t going to send a milksucker like that to the Frangi border where the boywhores might make him crazy, were you? Clearly he couldn’t stay here, though.” Bear’s voice was low with warning.
“Right. Of course.” Kenet, I thought. What was wrong with Kenet? And what was wrong with me? When Kenet touched me, or let me touch him, everything felt right. And now that he was ill, everything had gone wrong.
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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.