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 Forty-Two: Jorin

42: Jorin

A man on horseback approached, more than that I did not know. We each stood at the ready, weapons drawn, and I wondered if we should be hiding behind trees. But then Kan raised his hand and Sergetten did the same, each whispering words in a language I did not recognize, and I looked around us in amazement as each man seemed to melt into shadow, myself included. No wonder the Night Riders had eluded their pursuers for so long.

We held our breath, for though we were invisible now, the camp was still easily discovered by anyone who came through this section of the woods. I could hear the steady tramp of a horse.

Then another bird call, and the sentry we had sent to spy on the castle rode into the glade.

Kan let out a breath and we all reappeared, Pietri running forward to grasp the bridle of the horse as Herge leapt down.

“All of Maldevar is in an uproar,” he said, as everyone gathered around him. “The Lord High Mage and the king’s guard have been seen all over the mountain, questioning villagers, searching, they say, for a spy. We cannot go there now.”

Sergetten stopped him from saying more. “Get some water and take care of your mount. We have some business to finish here, and then we will hear your full report.”

I was not pleased to see that Sergetten so easily took over the giving of orders from Kan, though I did notice that after the order was given, the others seemed to glance to Kan for confirmation. He waved them to it, then spoke to Sergetten in a low voice.

Sergetten’s voice had none of the quiet discretion of Kan’s in it as he retorted, “You cannot be serious.”

“I am quite serious.”

“You are far too ruled by your passions to ever be a true leader.” Sergetten’s face was a mask of disdain.

“Is that so? Then you understand I will not give him up so easily. I cannot.”

I understood then. “Him” was me. “Kan, be reasonable. I deserve none of your jealousy for taking this task upon myself.”

“How about envy, then? Will you have both Willim and Jorin for your own?”

“I will leave you with permission to fuck Willim as often as you like, how is that?” Sergetten chuckled.

“Tcha. Don’t patronize me. I will acquiesce to your plan. But even you are not so cold-hearted as to tear him out of my arms without so much as a good-bye.”

“Did you not just have your fill of him moments before I discovered you? Perhaps your own insatiability ought be studied.”

“He is mine, Sergetten. Already. And he will never be yours unless he is persuaded.”

Sergetten’s reply was merely a silent glare.

“You know it to be true. He will fight you every step otherwise.” Kan did not back down. “And it would be the decent thing to do. He and I are lovers. Even were we not magically bonded we should insist on this for decency’s sake. Can you not see that?”

“Very well. A farewell fuck, and then I must complete the bond. I do not think we should wait for nightfall. Try not to make him too sore again, or he will surely blame me when his bonding is painful.”

Kan gave him a small salute and then came to me, grinning. “Come on, Weltskin, back to the tent.”

I went without saying a word. Once we had closed the flap, I sat cross-legged upon the blanket. “You are going to give me to him,” I said, not so much because I needed any further explanation, but just to hear him say it.

“Yes and no,” he said, sitting across from me and taking my hand. “I am a selfish, piggish man, and I know this. I have the love of every man in the band, so I shall not be lonely. But I did want you so very much, Jorin Weltskin.”

I felt my cheeks grow hot as he kissed my hand.

“But I know you belong to another. I know your heart is Kenet’s. So I would be a fool to try to make you mine in any case. Sergetten is half-right. I know I have the skill to unbraid the bond. I probably would lack the will to, though.” He pulled me to him then and kissed me hard, bruising my lip against my teeth.

“So what about now?” I asked. “What will you make of me this last time?”

“A memory,” he said. “If you felt anything for me, if you are grateful for anything I have done for you, honor those feelings and mine by doing as I ask. I promise I shall ask only for pleasure.”

Something told me I might have little enough of pleasure with Sergetten. “All right.”

“Undress me, Jorin. Undress me and worship every inch of skin you uncover.”

We grinned at each other, but I knew his order was quite serious. I got him out of his clothes piece by piece, kissing him as I went, at the crook of his elbow, and across the nipples, and up the inside of his thigh.

“Ah, you are so good,” he said, as I spent a little extra worship on his prick, bringing him to full length with my mouth. As I expected, bringing him erect set off the hollow ache in my own gut. “So very good.”

He was lying on his back now, having accepted all I had done passively. “Now, take the jar, and grease yourself well. Turn around so I may see you preparing your body for me.”

I did as he asked, leaning my weight on two knees and one hand while I greased myself with the other. He reached up to spread my cheeks with his hands, then, and watched as I pushed fingerful after fingerful of grease into myself.

“It may be wise to keep yourself prepared so,” he said.

“For Sergetten?” I asked.

“For your own sake,” he said. He stroked himself then and caused the hunger to flare in me again.

I turned to face him, climbing over him then, until we were face to face. “He will be cruel to me.”

“How do you know?”

“He has always been cruel to me,” I said. “Why should that change? And you saw how…”

“Hush. No more talk of Sergetten,” Kan said. “This memory is for me. But I will say, you may find his demeanor changed when you are bonded.”

I shook my head in disbelief, but said nothing more. Instead I steadied his prick with one hand and pressed my arse back, trying to impale myself. The need flared hotter and higher as I came closer to having him, worsening with each failed attempt. The angle was wrong, it was too slippery, and Kan was somewhat softer than usual after having come so recently. I whimpered.

“Come on, Weltskin,” Kan crooned, “put me inside you. Milk me for all I’m worth.”

I stroked him then, with my slick hand, even though every stroke that made him harder made the burning need inside me more searing. At last I pushed myself onto him with a cry.

“Beautiful,” he said, his hands caressing my ankles and the tops of my feet on either side of him. “Now milk me.”

He would give me no help, not even a roll of his hips. I had to lift myself with my legs and slam myself down, trying to ease the ache and push him as deep into me as possible. I wanted more, needed more, but if I went too far, he slipped free, making me cry out in loss, and if I stayed too shallow, it wasn’t what I needed.

It was hard work, milking him like that, but I heeded his words. He had rescued me, and treated me well, and comforted me, and loved me. I knew in my heart that if I did this for him, he would be my ally to the end.

And he would always be my first. “This cock…” I said, as I continued to move, “I shall never forget, was the first to breach me.”

“Yes-s-s-s,” he agreed, his breath growing ragged as he came close to spilling.

His hand took hold of me suddenly, stroking me too, and he said, “Spill with me one last time, Jorin.”

It was his last command to me, and one my body obeyed without hesitation.

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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.