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 Fifty-Two: Jorin
If there was a lesson to be learned over the next few days of training under Sergetten, it was that my cock had a mind all its own. I could no more make it rise on command before him than I had been able to make it lie quiet the night the king had banished me. Sergetten snarled and snapped at me, as if he were more frustrated by my inability than I was myself.
He had me on all fours and was merely strapping me with full force across the buttocks when I thought to ask whether he truly expected me to be able to accomplish it, or whether it was merely a test—an excuse to lay into me. When his arm grew tired and I caught my breath, that is what I asked.
He threw down the strap and I saw it skitter across the wooden floor, coming to a stop just to the side of my hand. He reached under me, where he found, to my chagrin, that I had stiffened during the beating. “I need no excuse to stripe or flay you,” he reminded me.
“That doesn’t mean you would not use one, if you thought it instructional,” I pointed out, then groaned as he tugged on my prick, ensuring its full engorgement.
“True. But yes, Jorin Weltskin, I expect you to master the ability to perform certain acts. One of them is readiness of this sort.” He pulled me up onto my knees with a fist in my hair and slapped my cock.
I gritted my teeth, seeing stars. “If I could use my hand, it wouldn’t be but a few—”
“Untouched,” he growled. “If it were merely a matter of needing you to be hard, I could snap my own fingers and cause it to be, remember?”
“This is not a matter of your ability, Weltskin, but of your obedience.”
I found I couldn’t muster the words to refute that in that moment, and found myself struggling physically instead. His open hand slapped my face then, and I knew I should not fight, but I could not help myself, my own frustration boiling out of me as I pulled against his grip. He slapped me again, and then a third time, each blow heavier than the last, the third making me go still at last, with a kind of relief.
Was I? I reached up to feel my wet cheek. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to, Sir.”
He swore softly, with a resigned air. In the brief struggle we had ended up half under the work table, my head in his lap. He loosened the hold on my hair. “I didn’t strike you nearly hard enough for tears.”
I reached to wipe at them hurriedly, but he trapped my hand, and reached up to touch them himself, tracing one wet track across my face.
“Tell me,” he said.
I shook my head. “I’ve already said I was sorry.”
“I don’t want an apology. I want an explanation. Or at the very least a conjecture.” His eyes were very black in the afternoon light that filtered through the narrow windows.
I took a breath. “Will you listen to what I say?”
“Are you under the impression I ask questions because I want something other than answers?”
“Well, actually, yes…” I flinched at the hardening of his eyes, but he did not strike, nor even move, so I went on. “It is easy to believe you merely want to torment me.”
His voice was dangerous, a low growl. “You believe me that shallow.”
“The truth, Weltskin. I promise you the punishment for lying will be far worse than that for telling me a truth I dislike.”
“Sergetten,” I said, trying to muster the right words, “I have no illusions about this. You have always despised me. You are cruel by nature and you enjoy hurting me. These things would be true were we bonded or not.”
He said nothing to dispute this, which I took for agreement.
“You said I should learn that you can and will hurt me for no other reason than because I have no power to stop you,” I went on. “I would say that is the first lesson I learned.”
He shook his head slightly and looked for a moment as if he were going to say something. Instead, he ran his thumb over my cheek in a rough caress. Then, “It is the only lesson you’ve learned, it would seem,” he said, “to the exclusion of all others. It was one I thought would take you much longer to accept.”
“Why? You drove the point home clearly enough, and… and… and I’m a whipping boy to begin with. You think the king never took out his frustrations on me merely because he wished to? He never spoke of it so bluntly as you, but I did not doubt the reality of my station.”
His tongue moved behind his teeth, as if he were tasting the veracity of what I said. “You never tried to escape taking Kenet’s lashes? You never railed against it as unjust?”
I paused before answering, trying to make sure I spoke true. “I cannot think of a time when I did,” I said. “After all, how could I allow anything like that to befall my prince? What loyal subject would not be honored to stand in his place and take his pain? Kenet is my protector, and I am his.”
He pronounced my sentiments “Noble, if simplistic” with a nod. “Very well. I believe you. But you must believe something about me, as well. Something other than that my sole motive is to cause you pain.”
“I believed Kan when he said you were my best hope of helping Kenet,” I said, looking up into his eyes, which did not waver. “When he said only you could trammel the runaway spell the Night Riders had laid on me, and that you would stand with us against Seroi.”
He was silent, searching my face, or maybe his own mind for an answer, for a long moment. “You still doubt I will stand against Seroi, though.”
I nodded. To my surprise he ran a soothing hand through my hair and I was reminded that my cock had finally taken an interest in what was going on.
He seemed to come to some decision. “The situation with the Lord High Mage is quite delicate,” he explained. “I have tried to stay as close to him as I could in order to root out his deepest plans. He thinks me loyal to him rather than the crown and I have done things in the court of Frangit that could, indeed, appear treacherous. But what I have done is train the Night Riders, not to bring down Korl and his line or to destroy Trest, though there are those among the Frangi who believe it so, but to purge the castle of the corrupt influence.”
“Night Magic,” I said.
“No,” he said, eyes narrowed in frustration. “Night Magic is not inherently evil. But the way Seroi has used it most certainly is. If what you told Kan is true.”
“You know I would not lie about Kenet.”
He nodded this time. “You must understand, though, Jorin, that I will yet need to play the part of Seroi loyalist, for Kan and his band to succeed. There is no avoiding that. And I will need to swear you to silence on this matter, now that we have spoken of it.”
“Hush, have a little patience, please. There are correct ways to go about it.” He let out a long breath. “You asked me once if I would swear my fealty in front of you, and I refused. I am… reconsidering my position on that topic. Do you know why?”
I shook my head.
“Guess,” he said, with a hint of a smile. “At the least you will amuse me, at best, enlighten me as to your thought process, even if utterly wrong.”
My mind raced. Why would Sergetten think differently now than he had the day he had bound me? He raised an eyebrow impatiently and I began to think aloud. “Since then… you have had more time to think about the things you learned from Kan?”
He shook his head. “My opinions on prior knowledge have not changed.”
“All right, then, you learned something new. Like, you heard about something more that Seroi has done.”
He shook his head again. “My opinions of the Lord High Mage and the situation in the castle have not changed.”
“Well, then…” What had he learned since then? Perhaps my cock’s impatient twitch led me to my next guess. “You’ve learned my milk is stronger than you expected. That your power from having me as a slave is increased!”
He did not deny this, but appeared to be waiting for me to continue.
“And… and so you… feel more confident that Seroi can be defeated?” I guessed.
“Tcha. You can be quick-witted at times, but thick as a stone others.” He held me gently by the chin. “You. You have held up to every lashing and never shrunk from it or shirked your punishment. You have presented yourself as obediently as I could expect any man to… No, moreso, especially given our enmity. You appear to be truly trying to please me, Jorin Weltskin. Even when your mind and spirit are trying to rebel, and your tongue gets loose, you still earnestly present your body to me without fail.”
As he spoke, I felt my pulse race and I was unsure why. My breath was short, but I moistened my lips and did not look away from his hawk-like gaze.
“You have earned my respect,” he said finally. “I know you now far better than I did when we bonded. I feel confident, now, that I can allow you to earn a boon from me now and then. Do you still desire me to swear fealty?”
I answered as if he had presented me with a logic problem in an afternoon lesson with Kenet. “If I say no, and I find myself doubting you later, I will curse myself for a fool for not setting aside my doubts when I had the opportunity. If I say yes, though, am I failing to give you the loyalty a slave should?”
He chuckled. “Do not doubt yourself so much. To grant you this boon, I will demand a demonstration of your fealty to me. If you prove yourself, you will be rewarded. All will balance.”
“Ah. All right. Then, yes, I am game to be tested.”
He shifted then and bade me sit up. I settled onto my knees, my bare bottom on my feet, the welts from the strapping still quite hot and sore. He sat crosslegged facing me, close enough to touch, though we were not. My cock stood nearly upright and I did not dare look at it or touch it.
“You may recall we spoke of the types of punishment,” he began. “Obviously, you have a high tolerance for the direct application of pain. Likewise, deprivation does not seem to have affected you unduly.”
“Deprivation?” I burst out in surprise.
He clucked his tongue. “Had you not noticed that I have not fucked you since the bonding ritual?”
Oh. “I… I had, I just… I assumed there must be some Night Magic reason for it. Or maybe you were letting me recover after… after…”
His smile showed his amusement. “After you were the fucktoy of the Riders? Indeed, that is a high number of cocks to swallow in a short period of time. You are correct in that I am withholding myself from you for good reasons. But some slaves would have withered from the lack by now. Even were they, like you, not eager to couple with me.”
“I never said I was… that is…” I closed my mouth before I could dig the hole any deeper.
“There is no need to lie to me, Jorin. You do not like me. You do not desire me for a lover. You do not lie awake dreaming of my cock. In fact, I am fairly sure you do not even remember what it looks like.”
For some reason, his recitation of these facts only shamed me all the more. “I… I do not think I have ever seen it, Sir,” I said. “The bonding was done in darkness and… and you have yet to spill into my mouth as well.” Him remaining clothed each time he had beaten me or made me come had seemed a part of his power over me, as if my nakedness emphasized my vulnerability.
Or maybe there was another possibility that I had not thought of before then. “You do not like me, either,” I said. “You do not want me for a lover. Else you would have done as Kan did, using me for pleasure and gratification, not just magic.”
He shook his head at that. “You are wrong there, Jorin Weltskin. I would like very much to bury my prick in your body and leave you brimming with my milk. But I know we are not lovers and that our goals, magical and political, are more important than my personal pleasure.”
“As I was saying. Deprivation and corporal punishment leave you largely unmoved. You are sensitive to humiliation, but perhaps so much so that it is counterproductive. I’ve little doubt that endurance will be met with the same earnest constitution that makes you near impervious to being beaten. That leaves us with what you yourself admitted is hardest for you, which is, admittedly, the sharpest of all the daggers Night Magic can bring to bear. Sexualized torture.”
I merely swallowed, my heart hammering, waiting to hear what my fate would be.
“So I must devise a task for you that is difficult for you to accomplish or withstand, such that you will truly feel you have earned the boon I give.” He leaned his chin on one hand, his dark hair falling over one eye, looking younger than I expected while he thought it over. “Perhaps it is high time I gave in. I have been emphasizing that we are a Night-bound master and slave, not bedmates. But I have already been surprised with how quickly you absorb the lessons I teach.”
He got to his feet then. “Very well, a sexual challenge. Hm, how shall we make this difficult? Let’s see.” He walked around behind me. I felt him move close, and then wrap something around my wrists, cloth or leather by the feel of it, not rope. Whatever it was, it held my wrists together behind my back quite securely, though I could still move my fingers.
“Hm, and what else? Ah, I know.” Now a cloth wrapped around my eyes, shutting out all light. “Now, stay still until I call you.”
I heard him move away from me and the rustle of cloth. Was he getting undressed?
His voice came from across the small room. “I am on my back on your sleeping pallet,” he said. “Your task is to take my cock up your arse, and milk it until I spill into you. You have one hour to accomplish this.”
Oh. “Sir? Are you soft or hard?”
“Soft, Weltskin. I suggest you might want to do something about that. Your mouth, after all, is unencumbered.”
And so it began.
* * *
About the author: Cecilia Tan is the award-winning author of many erotic books and stories and the founder of Circlet Press.