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-Nine: Kenet
I suppose I should not have been shocked to find the sovereign lord and his mage in bed together.
Well, and I was not surprised by that. But given the shock I had just received, I treated them a bit more harshly than I should have, bursting in upon them as I did. They hurried to dress and present themselves before me, and then I told them that Sergetten had been snatched from us, and then they were the ones who were shocked. Indeed, if Solliran had not given him a good slap across the face, I think Tendrif might have collapsed into hysteria on the spot.
We reconvened with Roichal and Jort in the reception hall. I took the seat at the head of the table and their grave faces lined the long table like a solemn gantlet. A servant poured us water and wine and I jumped as her sleeve brushed mine. Jorin pulled his chair closer to me then.
Tendrif still looked ready to bolt on the spot, however he tried vainly to invent another explanation for our fears. “How do you know it was our enemy? Are you certain Sergetten did not merely vanish because he could not stand the sight of Jorin with another man?”
Jorin looked at him. “He was possessive and jealous, and prone to rages, but he was—is—loyal to Kenet. He would not leave without explanation.”
“But he said the strands that connected our enemy to Prince Kenet could not be used to pluck the prince away!”
“But he also said it could be done—just not with Kenet. I can only assume he did not know how strong the strands were between the Lord High Mage and himself. Or perhaps the snake found some way to use the connections between Sergetten and others in Maldevar as well.” Jorin shook his head. “I’ve traveled now several times by Night Magic, including going all the way from Maldevar to here. I think I know something of it now. And you, Tendrif? Have you made many such travels?”
Tendrif’s cheeks colored. “Er, no. That is not one of the disciplines I studied.”
I sharpened my attention on the mage. “And have you the ability to see these threads that Sergetten described?”
“Alas, Prince Kenet, I lack that skill also.” His gazed darted to his lord, then back to me. “I am… I am not much of a mage, really.”
“Because the Night Arts are not practiced openly in Pellon?” I asked.
He seemed to shrink down in his seat. “Not every man has equal ability to call on the Arts,” he said. “Else every bumfucking milksucker out there would be making some kind of magic… if you will pardon my language. Training helps, but a man must have the ability inherent in his blood. It runs in families. Unfortunately, the strongest practitioners of Night Magic often have grave difficulties with Day Magic. They have few children, if any, and some lines have died out.”
I pondered this. It seemed obvious, now that I thought about it, that any man who did to his cock what Seroi had would be unable to father children. And even if most mages did not go to such an extreme, there must have been other complications. Perhaps if a man’s seed was continually used for other magic, it could not be used to seed a child in his wife. “And if our enemy is defeating other Night Mages? If he becomes the last one?”
“There are still the Night Riders,” Jorin said. “Kan is no mage but he learned some from Sergetten and his followers have the aptitude as well. And we have Tendrif, here, even if he is no match for Sergetten.”
Lord Solliran looked fit to burst then, and I realized he was trying not to speak out of turn. I nearly smiled—I had not realized he would still think my previous decree not to speak out of turn still in force and it amused me to see him struggle. But our situation was too dire for my amusement to last more than a fleeting moment. “Speak freely, Solliran, please,” I said.
“I will not have you besmirch dear Tendrif any longer!” he said. “He—”
But Tendrif spoke up. “Calm, my lord, please. My thanks for defending my honor. But it will be no surprise to these men to learn I am a bastard.”
“Bastard?” Jorin asked.
“My exact origins are unknown. I was abandoned at an orphanage while still an infant. My guess is that I was either the child of a woman whose family studied the Arts, or that I was a chance blow-by from a mage who did not think his seed would take root in a woman, but which did.”
I saw Jorin fall into thought, so I asked the question I wanted most to know. “And how did you know you had abilities in the Night Arts?”
“I fell into whoredom, as many do in Port Aris, at a young age. Younger than the city watch allows, actually, but there were always sailors passing through who were willing to give me coin and bed me. The first time I found one who wanted to be the receiving partner, though, I discovered I could hear his thoughts. With an ability like that, I did not stay a whore long.”
“So I imagine.” I looked at the men gathered at the table. “With Sergetten gone, we have no way to know if the fight for dominance between Jorin and the others has any effect. Should we proceed with the challenge anyway?”
“My prince,” Roichal spoke. “I am willing to go through with the exercise anyway, just in case.”
Tendrif shrugged. “I do not see how it could do any harm to the situation if it brings you one step closer to being bonded. Will you try again after that?”
“Solliran,” I asked, “were you injured by the defensive magic?”
“No, Prince Kenet. I was tossed aside, but I do not seem to have suffered any ill effects.”
I met Jorin’s eyes. “Then after you… vanquish Jort and the general, we should… make an attempt.” I felt my heart leap in my chest at the thought, dry though my words were.
“Yes, my prince,” Jorin said with a nod, all business, yet I was sure his heart leapt, too. “I can make the preparations for the challenge, if one of Solliran’s men can assist me.”
I dismissed them to do that, and Jort and Roichal accompanied him, leaving me and the two Pellonese at the table. Solliran ordered one of the serving girls to prepare the bedroom where I had slept, asking her to change the linens for the finest and to perfume the bed with flowers. I blushed while overhearing what he said, but his smile was kind.
My pulse quickened as I thought on what Jorin and I would do. Would he begin with a kiss like the one from this morning? Would he tease me until all I could do was whisper his name helplessly, as he used to in our bed at night in Maldevar? I shivered in delighted anticipation, but brought my attention back to Solliran and Tendrif.
Solliran had called for some food to be brought. “Prince Kenet, I do wonder about your man, Jort. He does not seem happy with his lot.”
“Jort has much to answer for,” I said. “If he truly objects, I will not force him to go through with it. But more likely it is just a soldier’s superstition that bothers him.”
“Superstition?” Tendrif asked.
“Yes. Men in the army in Trest have come to believe that if they stick their cock in another man the night before a battle, they will live, but that if they are the one who takes the cock themselves, they will die. I imagine they treat the cock as a symbolic omen for the sword.” I shrugged. “The general tells me that any man in the army has ample evidence that this is not so, and yet the belief persists.”
Solliran chuckled at that. “You cannot control what your people believe, Prince Kenet. Some things you must simply accept. Now, supposing that you successfully bond to your man, have you given much thought to how you will take back your throne? You will be seen as a usurper if your father still wears the crown, unless it be proven to all he is merely a puppet.”
I took a sip of the wine while I thought. Even were I to expose Seroi’s evil plots and overthrow him, how would the people of Trest take to the idea that their king was whoreslave to his former whipping boy? And with the dark magic that bound me, could I even father an heir? “I do not know what my next step shall be.”
Jort hovered behind Solliran. “All is in readiness, your, er, your lordships.”
“Thank you, Jort.” As we made our way to the place that had been prepared, I put a hand onto Jort’s shoulder. “Are you apprehensive about this?”
“No, my prince. Well, perhaps a little. Your champion is quite formidable, I think. And I fear he will be upset at my previous behavior.”
They had piled rugs in a wide area near the windows overlooking the city and covered them with layers of cloth. Jorin was touching his toes while Roichal ran his hand over the surface of the cloth thoughtfully. I maintained a calm expression. “Your previous behavior?” I asked, my voice mild.
“Please, my prince, I know I have not been virtuous in your eyes. The general had it right. Stealing from the crown, deserting, and… and trying to force myself on you. I know there is a spell on you, but… but I have not been a virtuous man.”
“Have you taken advantage of others in the past? The truth, Jort, have you ever raped a man, woman, or child?”
“Well, no. Not in the sense of forcing myself on an unwilling person, no. But sometimes a man like me doesn’t know where he’ll find comfort next. I’ve, you know, taken sex in place of money or payment of favors, from those who might have preferred not to. But they chose to. I wasn’t always generous to them, either, but, well… I am not a virtuous man, my prince.”
“Tell me, Jort. How do you think can you repay those you’ve wronged? Think on it.”
“I will, my prince. I don’t know can make it right with all of them. But with you, my prince, is it justice enough if I… if I accept my fate here? I am not… that is, I do not normally take the receptive role, if you know what I mean.”
“Is it justice enough?” I gestured to Jorin, who was greasing his cock in preparation now. Jort swallowed hard, taking in the sight of it, so red and eager. (Truthfully, so did I.) “I will tell him not to injure you seriously, but not to go too easy on you, Jort. And then I would say, yes, it is justice enough.”
Jort bowed low, and then reluctantly began removing his clothes.
I moved to the other side of the competition area. My Jorin pressed a kiss to my cheek and merely winked. I was sure he had heard all we talked about. If there was such a thing as justice, I left it in his hands to mete out. He toyed with his foreskin as he sauntered to the edge of the rugs, so very much like a soldier hefting his sword before a battle.
Solliran’s servants had set chairs for me, Tendrif, and their lord along one side of the rugs. I turned to Tendrif as he was taking his seat. “Is there anything I should do, other than watch? Given that I am the prize, of a sort?”
Tendrif shrugged. “Kiss the winner, perhaps?”
I took the chair in the center and Solliran sat on my right. Jort and Jorin stood facing me. They were of similar height, but Jort hunched his shoulders and that made him look smaller. His hair was thinner, and his skin more sallow. Jorin, on the other hand, looked as if his time with the Night Riders and Sergetten had served him well. He had lean muscle all over, his hair glossy and dark and longer than I had ever seen it, though not as long as Sergetten’s. My eyes lingered over him as I thought, not for the first time, how incredible it was that he was there. After all the times I wondered if I would ever see him again, I could only feel a fierce sort of joy each time I looked at him.
Jort raised his hand timidly and I nodded to give him permission to speak. “If I might ask your lordships what the rules are?”
Jorin bowed before speaking. “The rules are simple. We cannot leave the prepared area. We cannot draw blood or maim. The first man to penetrate the other is the winner.”
“Oh, wait, I’m not ready!” Jort said. He scurried to the jar of cock grease and slicked himself hurriedly, until he was quite erect. “There.”
Jorin was trying to hide his smile and failing.
“Bow to each other,” I said, “and you may begin.”
They did, and then Jorin crouched, facing his opponent. Jort looked as if he wanted to do nothing more than flee, and suddenly what had been an expanse of carpeting and cloth must have looked terribly small now. He ended up backed into one corner, then lunged at Jorin who stepped aside. Jort went down as if he had been tripped. Rather than jumping on him, Jorin waited for him to get back up.
Despite his fear, Jort lost his patience first and lunged again, this time catching Jorin around the waist. Down they went together, tangling and straining against each other, each trying to gain the upper hand. I could see Jort’s cock was only half-hard now. A serious disadvantage.
A worse one was simply that Jorin was a better fighter. All those days he had spent training with the castle guard had served him well. I lost sight of Jort’s cock as he was flattened against the slick cloth, face down. Jorin straddled his legs and held him down with one arm behind Jort’s back. He worked his hand between Jort’s legs as if massaging him, then pushed his thumb between Jort’s arsecheeks.
Solliran made a noise of surprise. It looked like Jorin was stretching him, preparing him to be fucked. I hadn’t expected that either. Was Jorin making it too easy on him?
Soon he had two fingers in him, fucking him with his hand, and Jort began to moan. It sounded much more like lust than pain.
But then Jorin let go his arm and Jort twisted away. As he moved, I saw the man’s cock had revived. His freedom was short-lived, though, as they tangled again and this time Jorin was upon his back, pressing him down into the rug. Jorin’s hips thrust in a slow rhythm.
“I’m not in him yet,” Jorin said, as he ran his well greased cock between Jort’s arsecheeks. From where I sat I could see the slick, stiff length of it parting the soft globes. Would he tease me thus? “Not yet. But I soon will be…”
At that, Jort moaned needily and Jorin steadied his cock with one hand. Now Jort could have escaped if he wanted, but instead, as Jorin pushed forward, he pushed back, impaling himself.
Technically the match was over, but none of us dared say anything as Jorin held still and Jort himself rocked forward and back on that cock, driving it deeper each time, his groan deepening, too as he wriggled backward.
Jorin looked up at me, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Jort,” he said. “Jort, the fight is over, and I have won.”
“Oh, so close, please, don’t stop now!” Jort begged. “Sky above, I never knew a cock could feel so good. More, please!”
Jorin shrugged as if to say he was helpless to do else, and tugged on Jort’s hips, thrusting harder, his milksacks slapping against Jort’s thighs. Jort’s eyes were closed, and his mouth formed the word “more more” as he met Jorin’s thrusts.
He came with a cry and Jorin pushed him off of his cock and stood back. Jort spasmed where he lay, cock spurting as he moaned and drove his own fingers into himself, trying to get enough.
My champion nudged him with a toe. “Out of the way, Jort. Go on.”
The vanquished man crawled off to one side and lay quiet, spent.
Jorin winked at me. Justice had been served.
* * *
About the author: Cecilia Tan is the award-winning author of many erotic books and stories and the founder of Circlet Press.