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 Twenty-Nine: Kenet
We passed a check point of some kind around dawn, the guards bantering with Jort before letting us pass, and the wagon rolled on and on. I wondered why I didn’t feel hungry at all, but my stomach was in such knots from fear and worry I couldn’t have eaten anything now even if my hands had been free and a banquet were in front of me.
I had plenty of time to try to free myself from the chains if it could be done. It could not. If they were truly delivering me to General Roichal, I might find myself headed straight back to Seroi and my father if he were to recognize me. I tried to remember when the last time he had banqueted at the royal table had been. Ten years ago? When he had been made commander of the whole army. I was fairly sure he had not returned since, and even then, I don’t know that he ever got much of a look at me. I remembered him as a broad-shouldered man, with his hair in need of cutting and a perpetual frown creasing his brow.
We changed horses again at midday and no one opened the back of the wagon to find me there. A few miles later, Jort made me drink some water but I really could not eat. I finally slept fitfully through the heat of the afternoon, and then woke as the wagon went through another check point. The sun was setting as we came into a camp, a circle of tents visible all around in the fading light. I could hear many voices.
And then suddenly the back of the wagon was flung open and Jort was standing there grinning, gesturing at me. “Here you are.”
The man standing next to him was in some sort of uniform, but not like a soldier’s. He had an apron on as well. A cook? He wore a disdainful expression. “This? This is what our king sends to boost morale? Whiskey instead of grain? And what the hell are we supposed to do with a whoreslave?”
Jort clapped him on the shoulder. “You said it yourself. He’s a morale booster. Surely if you just leave him in a tent by himself at night, it’ll ease tensions, eh? Word’ll spread quickly enough among those with a taste for that sort of thing.”
The cook rubbed his chin. “True. Not a tent, though. We’ll have to keep him chained like the spy we caught a couple of months ago.
I bowed my head, trying to appear docile, but the knowing laugh that Jort gave sent shivers down my back. The only way I was going to get free was if they decided I was no threat.
“All right. Well, let’s get him out of the way of unloading.”
Jort unlocked the chain from the bolt in the wagon and then nudged me with his elbow. I climbed carefully down, my wrists still bound together. The cook and he marched me toward a rough hewn building.
“The stables?” Jort asked.
“Yes,” the cook said. “Then the muckboy can clean up after him and feed him, too. I don’t have time to deal with a whoreslave or prisoner with a hundred new soldiers arriving every day now.”
I looked back and could see a line of men taking the barrels off the wagon. Ahead of us the stable looked like it had stalls for ten or twelve horses, though as we went through the wide door I could only hear two. It smelled just like the stables at the castle and I wondered if that would matter to the men who would come to relieve themselves in secret with me. The roof was made of canvas, but the walls were solidly constructed, and of course each stall had a place where a horse could be tethered. Jort locked the chain to an iron ring in the far wall of one stall. He took the cloak from my shoulders, but before I could protest, had made a sort of bed for me by gathering it around clean hay. He handed the key to the cook and the two of them left me like that.
There were no more tears left for me to cry now. I pulled at the chain, but if a horse couldn’t dislodge the ring, where was I going to find the strength to?
This is what you have reduced me to, Seroi, I thought. You have made me nothing more than an animal. He had trained me like a hunting dog, and now I wasn’t even that, not even a prized pet, but just a beast waiting to be slaughtered. Only it would not be knives the men would cut me open with, but their cocks.
Jorin, where are you? Was he here somewhere with the army? Was there any hope he might hear the rumor of my arrival and deduce what had happened? In my mind’s eye I could see Seroi beating him and hear him screaming. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the image, but it was as if I could not stop thinking about what had happened. I could hear my father accusing him of wanting to bed me, my own father slashing open my tunic in front of him as Jorin’s cock strained toward me.
I had no doubt at all that Jorin desired me, that had we been able to steal an hour together before that fateful banquet I would have begged him to bed me as a man does a maid.
Now my vision changed, and I imagined him breaking the chains that held him taut, and stealing me out of the arms of my father. Yes. Straight into one of the castle’s secret passages, with Bear blocking the way… I whimpered as I imagined him taking me against the rough stone of the passage, pushing his way into me. What would being fucked be like? All I knew is it would feel a hundred times better than Jorin’s finger had, and a thousand times better than the slick thing Seroi had put into me…
I was asleep and dreaming of Jorin’s cock inside me.
I woke at the sound of someone unlatching the stable door. Night had fallen and I realized with a start that I was erect and throbbing.
A fact I could not hide as a soldier slipped into my stall and uncovered a small lantern. He hung it over a peg by the door and then turned to look, his breath catching as he saw me. “Thunder’s roll,” he swore. “It’s true.”
He was an older man, and by the markings on his jacket I could see he was an officer. He stared at me for a few moments longer. I had only one strategy and so I employed it before he could think of what he wanted to do next. I beckoned him to come closer and I started to work his belt open with my bound hands.
He seemed too shocked to protest, and in short order his pants were down around his knees and his musky cock was in my mouth. He smelled nearly as strong as the horses and yet it wasn’t an unpleasant smell in its way. Each stroke of my mouth up and down his shaft made my own cock throb.
He spilled quickly, his cry sounding as much surprised as anything, and then he hurried away, taking the lantern. He had not touched my cock, or anything but the back of my head as he’d spilled, as if afraid I might pull away too soon. His seed was acrid down my throat, but not bitter. I wondered how long it would be before the next one.
It wasn’t long. Another officer, this one heavyset and carrying what looked like the identical lantern. I heard the stamp of a horse a few stalls over and worried that if we were too noisy, we might spook them. Perhaps war horses were not so easily spooked.
He, too, let me suck him as I wished until he spilled, and then he fled. My jaw ached and I rubbed it against my shoulder, hoping for a longer break between this one and the next.
Instead, it seemed this one had been waiting right outside for his turn. He had dark hair and eyes, his hair pulled back in a tail. He slipped his jacket off. I couldn’t make out his rank either, but it must have been fairly high given the glimpse I caught of the markings.
“Lightning strike me if I’ve ever seen a sight as beautiful as you,” this one said, and before I could do what I had to the others, he had knelt down beside me and stroked a hand up my shaft. I quivered under the touch. “Will you stay like this all night, to keep your hole tight? You’ve been well-trained. Where between land and sky did they find you, I wonder?”
I pretended I hadn’t understood him, but what he’d said suddenly made me wonder if Seroi’s training me for the ceremony had actually been something else. Was that why I couldn’t come? Had I been made into the whoreslave these men assumed I was? Had it all been a charade to make me Seroi’s whoreslave? That had to be Night Magic of the darkest kind! Difficult to believe, and yet given the situation I was in, I could believe such evil of him.
“Let me see how tight you are,” the soldier went on, and pulled a crumpled bit of paper from his pocket. He was a handsome man, his hair black and straight like an inkstroke. In the paper was a whitish blob of grease, and he took a dab of it up on his finger and then pushed at me with his hands until I was on my knees, legs spread, holding onto the iron ring for support. He pushed his slick finger into me and I cried out at the sudden intrusion.
“Thunderclouds,” he swore. “Any man’s cock would tear you open, you’re so tight,” he said, pushing the finger in and out.
It felt good. The grease and the slickness and even the intrusion itself, now that I was getting used to it, felt good. I could not hold back a groan.
It seemed, though, that it would not be Jorin who would be the first to breach me with his cock. I was out of tricks for how to stop it from happening. I could not worry over Night magic I did not understand, all I knew was that my heart ached in my chest to think that it would not be him. The most I could do now was imagine that it was his hands pulling at my cheeks, his fingers that were spreading me open.
“Good as you’d feel on my prick like that, little whore,” he said then, “I don’t have it in me to hurt you like that. Let’s have you come first to loosen you up, and then I’ll take you.”
I cried out softly as he wrapped his slick hand around my cock, resting his own against my tailbone. Jorin, yes, I could imagine Jorin doing exactly this. Tying my hands to the headboard behind our bed so that I could not cheat and touch myself, and then teasing me like this.
My hips rocked into his grip and I could feel the hardness of him sliding up and down against my spine. How would it feel when it was inside me?
“You don’t have to hold back,” he whispered into my ear. “It’s all right.”
But I knew when I came—if I could come—he’d spear me, and I didn’t want that. So I tried to hold back, and I hoped that whatever it was that had kept me from coming so far would keep working, at least for a little longer. It was the only way I could fight. But it was a fight I knew I could not win.
The strain was too much and I began to cry.
“Oh, sky above.” He slowed down and then stopped his motion, though his hand stayed around my cock, his chest pressed against my back. “Listen, I’m not one of those who like it when you cry. I know there are the ones that like to hurt, that like it when you play at it like that. But I’m not like that. I’m not… Don’t cry. Please. No no no, I can’t do this if you’re crying.” And on he went like that, eventually letting me go and kissing away my tears and wiping them with his thumbs, trying to get me to stop any way he could, and failing. The tenderness, if anything, only made me cry harder.
And then there was a gruff voice at the door. “Marksin.”
“Yes, Sir,” he answered, though he did not get up from where he was cradling me in his lap. He had gone soft. I felt a bit bad about that.
The door opened and through my tears I recognized the man standing there. His hair had silvered a little at the temples, but he was largely the same frowning, broad-shouldered figure he had been ten years earlier at the banquet in his honor.
Marksin urged me to get off of him, then stood and put his uniform back on, all while General Roichal watched. Only when he was fully clothed did the general speak again. “You should have told me the moment you heard about this.”
“I had to come see for myself, Sir.”
Roichal made a harrumphing noise. “How long has he been here?”
“I am fairly certain not more than a day. He’s in remarkably good condition. Far better than the last one.”
The last one? I curled up as much as I could with my hands chained as they were.
Roichal shook his head. “You know I turn a blind eye to the men taking certain liberties with prisoners of war, but where did this one come from?”
“I will find that out, Sir. You can be certain of that. I will get to the bottom of this.”
“Good. Now shield him.” A moment later Marksin was using my cloak and his arm to shield me. The general himself struck at the chain with something, once, twice, thrice, and suddenly my arms were free. The manacles that held my wrists together were still in place, but I said nothing about that. “Does he have shoes? No? Carry him then, Marksin. Take him to my tent.”
“Sir? Are you sure you want that rumor spreading?”
“Rumors be damned.”
“You have your orders.”
Marksin picked me up, cloak and all, and carried me as far as a horse tethered some distance away. He helped me up into the saddle and then walked, leading the horse.
Even in the dark I could tell the camp was far larger than I had thought. The small part of it I had seen before was only the station for provisioning. I drowsed a little as the horse walked, but we passed tent after tent, and I could smell the smoke of many different fires.
Eventually he stopped and helped me down, leading me into a large tent. He lit the lantern and then bade me sit on the low sleeping pallet. “Might as well put you there, little whore,” he said. “I thought he’d long ago given up the appetites of the flesh, but you apparently tempt him beyond reason.” He reached down and stroked my hair gently. “Don’t be afraid. He’s like me. No crying, all right? He’s a good man and he will be good to you. He won’t hurt you. He’s… he’s not like that.”
As he spoke, I had the sudden feeling he was telling me far more than he’d intended. Perhaps because he believed I didn’t really understand him. His voice grew soft with longing, and then he drew away suddenly as we heard someone outside the tent.
The general entered. “Thank you, Marksin,” he said.
“Sir…” Marksin said, with a slight bow. “Will you be needing anything else?”
“No no, go get some sleep.”
But I could see Marksin hesitate. “Sir…”
Their gazes met. Roichal was the first too look away. At me. “That will be all, Marksin. Tomorrow we’ll need to start inspection of all the newly arrived companies.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“And yes, I will forgive your lapse.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Marksin swallowed, apparently feeling he had pushed his luck far enough. Two strides to the tent’s flap and then he was gone.
That left me alone with my next would-be conqueror. He regarded me, then pulled a ring heavy with keys from his belt. “Come here,” he said.
I knelt at his feet and lifted my hands. He clucked his tongue, but said nothing, trying key after key until he found one that opened the manacles. He took them away and then rubbed my wrists. “All right, boy. I don’t know how much of what I say you understand, but I have a feeling it’s much more than you let on, eh? Just shake your head if you don’t like what I say, all right? Now dig in that chest there and find something that fits you.”
I must have looked startled because he chuckled at me and pointed to the chest. Inside there were shirts and trousers, all too large for me, but he dressed me with the cuffs rolled up and a belt to keep the pants from falling off my hips. “Better,” he said and then sat down with a groan on the pallet, rubbing his thigh as if it were in pain. “Now, I know this isn’t probably what you’re used to, and it certainly isn’t the kind of serving the men think is going on inside this tent. But get my boots off, boy. I can’t bend as I used to.”
Oh. When he’d put clothes on me, I’d had an inkling he wasn’t going to bed me, at least not right away, and now I think I must have broken into a dazed grin. He chuckled as I worked to get his riding boots off. When his feet were bare, he wiggled his toes and sighed. “Work the knots out of my feet, boy. Go on.”
I had never done anything like that before, but I rubbed the heel of my hand against the bottom of his foot and he seemed to like that quite a lot. He undid his jacket and tossed it aside, and undid his belt and let it fall as well, but it did not feel at all threatening to me. That was as much disrobing as he did.
Eventually he lay back on the bed and I kept rubbing at his feet. I found I could dig my thumbs in and that seemed to please him greatly.
“I need a boy like you to assist me,” he murmured, his hands folded across his chest. “I have not had a page in years. The old wound in my leg pains me. Especially when it gets cold. The summer heat has been good for it. But I can feel a cold fog coming off the coast. By morning, there will be a chill.”
I said nothing.
“I don’t suppose you have a name? Or is it one of those Frangi names I’ll never be able to pronounce right? Ah, yes, right there. Page. I suppose you will answer to that well enough until you decide to tell me. Eh, Page?”
I gave a small nod at that.
“Don’t get any ideas about running off, unless you want to end up fucked raw by every milksucking pervert in the ranks,” he went on. “I’m not threatening you, Page. Just saying it’s all too likely to happen. You’ll never get out of the encampment without being caught, and well, the last spy they turned into a fucktoy… that was a very dismal business. War is not good for men’s souls, Page.”
He had said that tomorrow they would begin some kind of inspection, didn’t he? Was that my best chance to find Jorin, then? I was sure if Jorin caught sight of me, he’d find a way to reach me. And it seemed I was safe with Roichal, at least for now.
“Enough for tonight, Page. Your fingers must be getting tired. All of you must be tired. Lie down here next to me.” His words were slowing as he got sleepier and sleepier. But I decided I must not try to sneak off. Not until I knew more about where we were and the lay of the camp at the very least, and even then, staying with him might be my best chance to reach my goal.
Roichal patted the pallet next to him. I lay down tentatively.
He snorted. “You are the most skittish whore I’ve ever seen. I won’t hurt you. But I told you, a chill is coming tonight and these tents are not made to keep out much cold.” He pulled a light blanket over us both, and then curled me, spoonwise. His frame was larger than mine, and it was surprisingly comfortable. I half expected to feel an erection poking me in the back, but there was nothing. It seemed the general did not desire me, despite what Marksin had said. At least, not in that way.
And he was right about the change in the weather. I felt the chill on my nose as the night deepened, and I was grateful for his warmth. He seemed to sleep soundly.
Now that I felt safe and comfortable, I thought I would start to feel hungry, but I didn’t. Maybe I was just so happy to be out of imminent danger that it would be a while before I felt hunger again? I wondered about such things until I fell asleep, too.
* * *
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.