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 Ninety-Six: Jorin
When Seroi pulled free of me at last, I had no fight left in me. That had been his purpose, of course, to break down my resistance. But I never begged for mercy. I never gave him that satisfaction. I never truly broke.
And I never believed, even when the pain was at its worst, that he would win. The vision I’d had, of Sergetten’s argument with the mage, made sense to me now, and so did Kenet’s seductive moves. Sergetten had come out and said it to his face, and still Seroi had not believed in the protection of the royal blood. Why did one not strike the royal flesh? Perhaps in olden times one did not because it brought down the wrath of the skies.
A blast of cold wind and a spattering of sudden rain struck my skin as Kenet invoked his birthright. I knew to keep my eyes shut, as the blinding flash burned red in my eyelids and the thunderous crash deafened me.
I think perhaps I might have lost consciousness for a short while then, until I was lashed by another fierce gust of rain and raised my head. The candles were out and the miasma of incense gone, while every window was open to the cleansing storm. I was nowhere near the windows and yet the rain seemed to wash me like a welcome shower.
Kenet’s voice gave me the strength to rise. I hurried to push the corpse of Seroi off of him, sickened by the greasy and leathery texture of the dead mage’s skin, like a roasted pig. I pulled Kenet to his feet and looked back at the body. Wisps of smoke or steam were rising from it.
“Can we be sure he’s dead?” I asked, blinking water from my eyes.
“He’s dead,” Kenet said with certainty. His eyes were still alight with an eldritch hate as he stared at his vanquished foe. “But if you wish to sever his head or his milksacks with a sword, I would not stop you.”
“I need no trophies,” I answered, kissing his temple, “other than the one in my arms.”
He kissed my chin and then drew a deep breath, stepping back from me to survey the room. He wiped rainwater from his eyes, and although the storm continued to rage around the tower the wind shifted and rain no longer came through the open windows. The candles were all knocked over and doused, and the symbols that had been swirled across the stone floor were blurred to nothing. Kan and Jaiks were helping Bear on one leg down the stairs.
And sitting with their backs to one sheltering wall, were Korl and Sergetten. They were naked and wet and Korl cradled Sergetten’s head against his shoulder. Sergetten’s hair hung in wet strings, his eyes closed.
The king looking up at us with bright eyes and it seemed to me a sharpness of intelligence lurked there that had been missing for a long time.
“Father, can you get him downstairs?” Kenet asked, the wind whipping his hair in an updraft.
Korl merely nodded, and moved to try to lift Sergetten just as Derget and Gresh came running up the stairs. They stared a moment at the corpse, but at Kenet’s command—”Everyone out, now!”—they helped Korl and Sergetten out of the tower.
Kenet surveyed the shattered room once more. The scent of blood and incense was gone, replaced with the wet, freshness of the wind. Then he held up his hands and closed his eyes, and as he let out a long breath, the storm outside suddenly lifted. As he smiled, a sharp shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, turning his rain-wet hair to spun gold. I heard the calls of birds on the wing.
The first bird to alight on the stone sill was a frit, and then his mate. A larger bird flapped loudly as it landed in the next window over. I realized then that the windows were not merely open; most of them had been torn from their hinges or smashed into pieces.
More birds were gathering in every window, chittering noisily. Kenet took my hand. “Let us go. There’s no need to see this.”
He sealed the trap door behind us and as we descended the stairs we heard the cries of the birds as they began to peck the body apart.
I squeezed his hand in mine. I could hear a multitude of voices below. The military and the castle guard must have taken the rest of the castle while we were keeping Seroi occupied.
The moment we appeared downstairs, a healer stepped forward to put a cloak on Kenet’s shoulders and tend to his wounds. Kenet took the cloak but waved him off. He still held that air of divinity about him, and indeed, where his cheek should have been bruised and his skin scratched, he looked entirely unblemished now.
Someone handed me a blanket and I wrapped it over my shoulders without ever taking my eyes from my prince, my lover, my slave who bore the power of the thunderstorm in his veins.
The hubbub quieted as Kenet’s presence drew the attention of everyone present—Jaiks’s wife, the Night Riders, the boy Istin, more guards… Marksin and Roichal were receiving the report of one of their men but they quieted him as heads turned. The noise of the birds from upstairs could just barely be heard through the heavy trap door. Kenet was not saying anything, and yet somehow he commanded everyone’s attention.
He went first to Bear who was sitting on a bench with his leg already splinted. Kenet put a hand onto his shoulder. “Are you restored?” he asked.
“Yes, my prince,” Bear said, and I knew he was not speaking of his leg, but of his cock and balls.
“Good. And you, Jaiks?”
“Yes, my prince.” Jaiks was just beyond Bear, standing to one side holding his wife’s hands.
Kenet went to him. “I thank you for guarding my father so well and serving us all these years. You have performed duties beyond common imaginings, Captain, and we shall not forget it. And your men have suffered much. Please gather them for duty again by morning, and their sons as well.”
“Fathers and sons alike will receive a commendation from my hand. Thank you, Captain.” Kenet then looked around the room. “Where is Istin?”
“Here,” squeaked a small voice. The boy came out from behind Roichal. Kenet went down to one knee and the boy ran to him and hugged him. “I didn’t know you were a prince!”
“It was a secret,” Kenet said. “Are you well? Are you hurt?”
“Yes. No. I mean, yes I am well. Sir. Prince.” The boy put his hand over his mouth then. A moment later he tried again. “I am no longer ill as I was when you saw me last, if that is what you mean.”
Kenet smiled and if was as if the sun shone on the boy’s face. “Yes, that is what I mean. Good. Can you rejoin your fellows, do you think?”
“My prince, the rest have been made pages,” Marksin said. “I will see that he is reunited with his cohort.”
Kenet nodded and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Brave lad. Remember always that you helped me to defeat our common enemy.”
The boy ran back to Marksin, beaming.
Kenet moved then to where Sergetten was lying supine on the floor, the king, Kan, and a healer kneeling beside him. Kenet knelt across from them, and to my surprise he held out his hand toward Korl.
The king looked as surprised as I felt, but put his hand into his son’s, who then placed it on Sergetten’s chest. “We need him to live, Father.”
Korl hid his face in the sleeve of his other arm as he sobbed. I had never seen the king cry and it was unnerving.
Kenet’s voice was calm. “I’ve killed him, Father. Seroi is no more. Which is why we need Sergetten more than ever. Love him, Father, as he has always deserved to be loved, and he will live.”
“I fear his wounds are too deep,” Korl said.
“I do not know what rift there is between you, but that is what needs to be healed,” Kenet answered.
Korl’s sob was loud against the stone walls. “I… I always blamed him for your mother’s death. For not being able to save her. I believed… I believed deep down he was jealous of her, and that was why he did not save her when he could have.”
Kenet shook his head sadly. “I am sure he was jealous, but it was Seroi who killed her, Father, with the spells he was placing on me in her womb.”
Korl bowed his head. “I know that now. How can Sergetten forgive me for being so wrong about him?”
“If you can forgive him for trying to protect you from his suspicions and keeping you in the dark in the first place, I am sure he can forgive you, Father.”
“And you, Kenet?” Korl looked up. “Can you forgive me my ignorance, my pettiness, the wrongs I have done you, and the faults of mine that nearly led Trest to ruin?”
Kenet leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Of course I can. The question is whether Jorin can.”
I was so startled by this, I nearly lost hold of the blanket around my shoulders. “Kenet?”
He turned to look at me. “Nothing can compel you to forgive him, my lord.”
Someone in the room gasped at Kenet addressing me thus, but I paid it no heed. I moved close to him. “On my part, there is nothing to forgive,” I said, running a hand over Kenet’s hair. “He was hurt, frightened, misled, blind, and ignorant. If that made him cruel, well, I have tough skin.”
Korl bowed his head.
Kenet said, “Your heart has been closed all these years, Father. But it is open now. Stay with Sergetten. He needs you most of all.”
Korl nodded as if he could not speak, and did not lift his hand from Sergetten’s chest.
Kan was sitting right next to him. He met Kenet’s eyes and bowed his head.
“I cannot rival you,” Kan said.
Kenet laughed. “Then let there be no rivalry between us. Our father is still king. And it will be you who fathers the next heir.”
Kan nodded in agreement.
Kenet then turned to call to Roichal. “Did you hear that, General? Please communicate it to your forces everywhere. And send a diplomatic despatch to Pellon to petition the Frangi council for a parley on neutral ground.”
“Long live the king,” Roichal said in answer, prompting a rousing cheer of “Long live the king!” from most of the men in the room.
The hubbub began again, everyone talking at once, people moving to and fro, as the shouting seemed to break the spell Kenet had held everyone with. He slipped into the shadows and pulled me with him. Through the crowd I could hear Bear exclaiming, “I don’t believe it! It’s fixed!”
Kenet’s grin held a hint of mischief as he held tight my hand and pushed aside the tapestry that hid the entrance to the passages.
In moments we had left everyone behind and not even the sound of their voices carried down the winding way we took.
We did not stop moving and did not speak until we emerged in our old bedroom. He turned to me and said, “And you, Jorin? Are you restored?”
“Completely,” I said, and pulled his mouth to mine with a hand under his chin. “Well, actually, I feel I could sleep for a week, but… your touch appears to be very healing right now, my prince.”
He kissed me, then pulled back to run his hands through my rain-dampened hair. “I cannot take your scars away, though.”
“I wouldn’t want you to. I earned them,” I said, pulling him in for another long kiss. “Now tell me truly, Kenet, prince of thunder, if you have any objection to me laying my claim to you this very moment, and I shall consider whether to heed it or not.”
“I…” He drew a shuddering breath. “I have no objection.”
“Good.” I undid the clasp on the cloak and let it fall, then walked him backward until he fell back upon the bed. And then I climbed atop him, leaving my blanket behind and kissing my way up the center of his body. I left tiny bites up the insides of his thighs, suckled lightly on his milksacks, nosed up his taut stomach, and flicked my tongue over his nipples.
“Once,” I said, “you begged me to make you come, in this very bed…”
“If I remember rightly, I often begged for that,” he said with a chuckle.
“True.” I nuzzled the nub of his nipple and then warmed it with my breath again. “I’m thinking of one time, though, when you begged me to command you to spill. Were you trying to forget the touch of the mage that night?”
He shivered under me as my fingers brought up gooseflesh on his arms and over his ribs. “Yes,” he whispered, as if even now he had to maintain the secret. “I needed you to… to make me yours again.” He gasped as I rolled his nipples between my fingers, slowly but firmly. “I… I… Please, Jorin…”
“I plan to do so again right now,” I assured him. “No one will ever touch you again without my permission, Kenet.” I wrapped my fingers around his quivering cock. “This is mine. This has always been mine. I knew it, and so did you, from the very first time it came to life in the night. Isn’t that so?”
He nodded his head, unable to catch his breath as I stroked him.
“Do you remember that night, Kenet?”
He shook his head. “No. Too long ago…”
“I remember it. I remember I’d already discovered how good it felt to stroke myself, though I hadn’t learnt to spill yet. I hid it as something secret, because I knew no one would approve…”
Kenet’s cheeks flushed red. “I… I was too afraid to touch myself there. And be discovered and then you would be punished.”
“I remember. Well, if you wouldn’t touch yourself, I would just have to do it for you. I didn’t make you come that night. I don’t think I even knew it was possible. I just stroked you gently until you drifted into sleep again.”
“Jorin, my lord, please…” His hips bucked as I did as I described, not pushing him toward orgasm now, just stroking him and stoking his arousal.
“Fear not, beloved. I will let you come soon. I want to be in you when you come, though.” I felt his cock surge as I said that, as if the mere thought drove him that much closer to spilling. I made my touch even lighter. “After you fell asleep that night was the first time I spilled, you know.”
“With the hand that had stroked you pressed against my nose, and tugging hard on myself with the other, I came for the first time. It wasn’t until five or six days later that I made you come the first time, though.”
“Yes. Because I wanted to be sure I knew how it worked. There was always the chance that your royal, princely body wouldn’t do such a dirty thing as mine did…” I paused to lick at the head of his cock and he whimpered madly. “But we had been so much alike in other respects that I had to find out. I was pleased to find you spilled like liquid silk into my fingers.”
He whimpered again and I decided I had teased him long enough with memories. “Turn over, beloved.”
Kenet rolled onto his stomach and my mouth made its way down his back, leaving red marks with my teeth and teasing with my lips. When I reached his tailbone I licked at the spot and then rubbed my cock there until he was squirming with anticipation.
I pushed his cheeks apart with my fingers and licked at his hole then, teasing with my tongue up and down the crease of him. At first he tensed and clenched as I teased and tickled, but I kept pulling at him until at last his muscles had to give in, and then I went to work on that beautiful little hole itself. I worked my tongue inside him, wet and slick, as deep as I could, until his grip softened. My jaw began to ache from fatigue, but I kept at it, to keep hearing the sounds he made every time I drove my tongue into him.
It was like the rain had washed him clean, or maybe the lightning had remade him, with not a scratch or a bruise, no blood or dirt upon him, no incense clinging to his skin. He tasted of musk and rain.
When at last I paused to rest, he was supple and slick, so much so that one of my fingers slid in without resistance, and even two fingers met far less resistance than I expected. As I drove them into him my cock jumped impatiently.
I stood at the edge of the bed. “Kenet. Suckle me. Make me as slick as you can. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
He looked over his shoulder at me to answer. “Neither can I.” A moment later he had taken my cock deep into his throat and left it glistening. Then he lay back and parted his legs, his eyes never leaving mine.
He may have been the slave, but I was held captive by that gaze, even as I settled between his thighs, one hand guiding the head of my cock where I knew it must go. He angled his hips so that the head was captured between his cheeks..
I pushed and saw his eyes widen as I breached him truly, his mouth gaping open as well. I thought to hold there a few moments before giving him another inch, but Kenet had other ideas. He hooked his legs around me and pulled himself fully onto my cock, as if he could not wait.
I grinned. “Now I see why I will have to tie you down in the future.”
“Is it wrong to want you so much?”
“No. It’s never wrong to desire me, Kenet. I’ll leash you if your desire needs to be checked. Now, though, let me see you fuck yourself on me.”
I held my body above his with my arms, and he rolled his hips and pulled with his legs, moving himself up and down my shaft, driving my cock deeper and deeper into his body. I watched, rapt, as he stoked his own arousal, the flush of his swollen lips spreading across his entire face and sweat dampening his brow. His eyes closed as he worked, and he made small, hungry sounds.
Finally I could stand it no longer and I kissed him, wrapping my arms around his torso and pushing into him with my own rhythm. He cried out then, and I felt the wild pulsing inside him that was his magic trying to spill. “Come for me, Kenet,” I whispered and he cried out again, this time coating our stomachs with his milk as I continued to fuck him.
I didn’t last long myself after that, filling him with what I could of my own milk, remembering quite sharply that this was his only sustenance now.
I also remembered how I hated it when Sergetten would jerk free of me and leave me empty before I was quite ready for him to pull away. I licked the salty sweat on Kenet’s neck, feeling the aftershocks of orgasm echoing in both of us. “Am I too heavy?”
His answer was to hold me where I was, while making a soft, happy sound. My cock shrank gradually and I kissed him again, luxuriating in the feeling of his lips and the taste of his mouth now that there was no urgency in either of us.
He made a small sound of dismay when at last I slipped free, unable to stay in him even one more moment. I kissed away that sound, then said, “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you up again soon enough.” We shifted so that we were lying side-by-side, arms entwined. The room was silent now, except for the hush of the wind through the trees on the mountainside.
I had never felt so at peace.
“Jorin,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against me, and I wondered what he was going to say. But all he said was “Jorin, Jorin, Jorin.”
I laughed. “Kenet, Kenet, Kenet.”
They were the sweetest words I could imagine hearing, or saying. There was nothing more to be said. The man I loved was in my arms, tonight and forever. We would never let go.
* * *
Prefer reading on paper? You can mail order the finished books of The Prince’s Boy, Volumes One and Two, right now and have them within days! Order direct from Amazon, of use the coupon code UU3ULDAN to get 20% off the cover price if you purchase one or both volumes from Createspace! (Volume one | Volume 2)
About the author: Cecilia Tan is the award-winning author of many erotic books and stories and the founder of Circlet Press.