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 Seventy-Eight: Jorin
My master did not tell me which room he was in. He expected me to find him.
A lesser man might have asked the servants of the household where he could be found. I had no such need. I took a few steps into the shadowed hallway, the shrouds of evening thickening even as I did, and closed my eyes.
He had described the connections between bonded masters and slaves as something like strings tying us together. If that was so, I felt the string tug somewhere around my navel. I went in the direction it suggested. I went down the hall and down a set of stairs and pushed through a heavy wooden door into a bedroom.
The door shut behind me as I stepped in and slipped to my knees without opening my eyes.
I felt the heat of him near, and opened my mouth mere moments before the head of his cock drew a line of salty slickness along my bottom lip. He pressed in then, and I suckled before I gagged. He pulled free after only a few moments, though, saying, “It’s not your mouth I want, boy. That was just to give you a taste of how hard I am for you.”
“Yes, sir.” I stayed where I was, awaiting his command.
“You have been a perfect slave for an imperfect master, Jorin Weltskin,” he said then. “But I must tell you one more secret. I have already told you that you must be hard on him, that you must impose discipline and your will on him, lest he wrest control from you and turn magic to disaster. But what I have not told you is that no master is perfect. No matter how well you keep him, there will be a time when you will abuse your power, when you will push him beyond how far he can yield. I know what you are thinking. If his very life is yours to use as you wish, how is it possible to go too far? Indeed, much of what will bond you more and more tightly as time goes on will be the thousand ways you invent to chip away at the resistance you find, the territories of his heart and soul that you will conquer one after the other.”
But Kenet wants to give himself to me, his whole heart and soul, I thought. But I did not contradict my master.
“When it happens—and it will—it will only strengthen the bond of magic between you. But do not let it weaken your bond of love.”
Oh Sergetten, what befell you and Korl that such bitter lessons should be your legacy? “Yes, sir,” I whispered, bowing my head.
The air around me cooled as he walked away. I heard rustling. Then his voice from across the room, hard and sharp. “On the bed where I can see you. Grease yourself and make a good show of it.”
I grinned inwardly, thinking of Kan asking me to do the same thing our last time together, wanting to burn it into his memory. Would Sergetten ask me to ride him also?
He was already on the bed, stretched out on his side, naked atop the coverlet. There was plenty of room for me, and a jar of cock grease sat open awaiting me.
I took it in my fingers and then turned around, kneeling on the bed facing away from him. I spread my knees and leaned forward onto one hand, the other digging into the jar. I reached back and smeared the stuff liberally up and down the crack.
“You might be able to see better, Sir,” I suggested as I got a bit more of the stuff onto my fingers, “if you spread my cheeks a bit wider for me…?”
He growled with lust, but did so, digging his thumbs in and pulling at my hole. I used one finger, then the other, and then both together…
With a snarl he was upon me, thrusting in so quickly and savagely I barely got my hand out of the way. So much for my speculation that he would, like Kan, want me to impale myself on him and do all the work. No, he let me feel every bit of the lust that tore at him, the intense need he had for my body.
Sergetten pulled my hands behind me, crossing my wrists in the small of my back. He did not bind them there—he did not have to. I held them in place to please him.
He fucked me hard and at a quick pace, but he did not finish quickly. He drew things out just a bit, slowing at one point to talk to me. “You know,” he said, “I had considered that perhaps for our farewell fuck, I should let you turn the tables on me. After all, you have yet to practice. But I am far too selfish at this moment to allow you anything but this, but the taking of my cock, where it belongs. In you, Jorin. While you are still mine.”
I could answer that only with a grunt of agreement.
“Perhaps there is something right in this, too, that you are spent from feeding your prince. So you do this truly for me and not for your own pleasure.”
I nodded. This was not like when he had ridden me cold. How could I tell him in adequate words that my body welcomed him, even when my lust was supposedly spent? I wanted him and needed him in a way that was wholly separate from the need to come. His cock inside me felt right, his breath against my skin wholly familiar. I had said all I could say to him over the past few days and there were no more words left for how I felt. He knew.
At last he spilled, as his nails dug deep into my hips and he held me trapped by his teeth in my shoulder, his hips snapped at a furious pace and he spilled.
This time he did not jerk free quickly, though. He lingered long, letting my arms free and rubbing them with his palms, and then gently licking the spot where he had bitten, sending a flash of pleasure all over my skin.
“I will miss you,” he whispered.
“And I you,” I answered, as I felt him reach for my collar.
It came free leaving a stripe of chill on my neck, and then with a strangled cry he was quite suddenly gone.
I don’t mean he pulled free of me and climbed off the bed. I mean that he vanished, leaving me suddenly empty and my back cold.
“Sergetten?” I called, disbelieving it. I turned over and felt the bedcovers as if he could have been hiding there. That strangled cry he gave, had it been a cry of distress? Or anger? Had he… flown off to Kan, the way he had the night he’d set his previous apprentice free? But no, I was sure for that I would have had to come, too, and he would have disappeared at the moment of orgasm, not minutes afterward like this.
He had dropped the collar as he had vanished. Could it be that the magical ropes tying him to me were what had prevented Seroi from being able to reel him in like a fish?
“Kenet!” I shouted, running out into the hallway. “Kenet!”
“Jorin?” He appeared from a doorway and I crushed him in a hug. I had been so fearful that perhaps Seroi had caught him, too, in his mystical net.
“Sergetten is gone. Taken by Seroi, I think. He… he just disappeared, right from the bed.”
Roichal emerged then, too. “What has happened?”
I explained my theory, that at the moment he released me, Sergetten was made vulnerable to the mage’s long reach.
“We must consult with Tendrif,” Roichal insisted. “And put some clothes on, boy!”
Kenet merely pulled one of the layers of tunics he had on over his own head and pulled it down over mine, then tied his own sash around my waist.
If I could have, I would have tied us together with that sash, if that would have helped. Instead I held Kenet’s hand as we went to look for the Pellonese mage, and did not let it go.
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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.