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-Six: Jorin
I spent the night restless, expecting at any moment Sergetten might come back and plough me. I tugged at the collar around my neck, quite sure that it was too tight by just a bit, not enough to be dangerous, just enough to annoy. I lay there wondering what kind of magic he would ply in the name of my “training” and what cruelties he might visit on me.
I remembered with sudden vividness the beating that Seroi had administered, while his phantom hand had stroked me. My cheeks burned thinking on it, which might seem odd, given the experiences I had lived through since. Yet there was nothing mortifying about being loved by the Night Riders, even when I was writhing helpless with lust before them. The only humiliating thing had been when Sergetten had collared me, but now that I understood it for what it was, I no longer felt mortified at all.
And yet the memory of being lifted on the chain like a criminal before the entire court, and of the way my cock strained toward Kenet as the king had slashed open his clothes… I had barely thought of it since I had been exiled from the castle, but now the scene consumed my thoughts utterly. I shivered, remembering how Korl had promised he would not stop beating me until Kenet begged him to.
There would be no Kenet here, though. Would Sergetten beat me until his arm tired? It was clear I could do nothing to please him and I had little desire to do so. Merely saving myself pain was not a good enough reason to bow before him. Was it? Perhaps it did not matter and he would just take his pleasure as he wished. I recalled Kan’s admonition that I should keep my hole greased if I could. I wondered how often Sergetten would want to fuck me, and how much enthusiasm I would be required to show.
It must have been near dawn when I at last slept soundly, and then when I woke there was daylight coming through the narrow windows at the edges of the room. I was stiff, as if once I had fallen asleep, I had not moved. I sat up slowly to find a meal sitting on a low table next to the bed. A small amount of milk in a cup, and some boiled grains with bits of dried fruit, and a small piece of salt beef. I ate it greedily; no banquet had ever seemed more sumptuous after the traveling provisions and soldier’s meals I had been living on. I half expected Sergetten to appear at any moment and correct me for eating too fast or using my hands instead of the spoon and dull knife provided, but he did not.
I assumed he was keeping watch over me, though. I would be a fool not to. I examined the limits of the room. The table had a stone bowl and a few other implements on it, but nothing much of interest. There were a few jars with large stoppers in them in a small cabinet to one side, and there was a shelf that looked as if it should hold books, but there were no books to be found. There were various lanterns and candleholders all around the place, none of which particularly matched, as if they had been collected over a long period of time. Through the tall, narrow slits of glassed-in windows I could see a wide green field and the edge of a forest.
When I had examined everything in the room three times over, and still there had been no sign of Sergetten, I tried the door. It opened, which surprised me. I looked out onto the landing of a dark staircase and decided not to venture further for now. I went back to sit on the bed. There were no clothes for me anywhere that I could discover, and I took stock of my physical health.
The balm Sergetten had used yesterday had left my arse feeling no ill effects of the rough usage. There were a few lingering bruises here and there from various things, but nothing worth devoting much attention to.
I wondered how long that would last.
Eventually I tired and lay down again, dozing off easily this time.
When I woke, there was a new meal on the low table, and some of the things on the table along the wall had moved, which made me wonder about how truly tired I was. I ate more slowly this time. There was a generous portion of bread and one slim slice of salty ham, and some of the fruit of high summer. And a draught of clear, sweet water that had to have come from a deep well.
Again I saw no sign of Sergetten. I took another nap, wondering if dinner would appear in the same way, but when I woke again there was nothing. I could see the sun was setting and I wondered if I nightfall would bring the return of my Night Magic master or not.
It did not. I eventually began to move through the series of sword practice drills Bear had taught me, miming a non-existent sword in my hands, out of sheer boredom, though I had to stop when it became too dark to see. I had no means of lighting the lamps in the room. Did he expect me to go looking for him? Or to stay here? Or was it a waiting game to see what I would do?
I decided if that was so, I would stay put and make him come to me. I woke once during the night at the sound of the door closing, and found more food had been left for me. It wasn’t until dawn I found that a number of books had been returned to the shelf, though.
The next day I took one from the shelf and examined it, but it was in the old tongue and I could not read it. I put it back, and walked through my sword drills again, and examined what was in the large jars. At least one of them appeared to be the same balm Sergetten had used on me, but it was hard to be sure by scent alone.
When the second night fell and still I had seen no sign of Sergetten, I began to worry. What if some accident had befallen him? But no, then who was leaving the food?
What was he waiting for? Was he busy with his mission for the crown? Or was this part of the power game he played with me?
It was the longest I had gone without sex, and without release, since I had left the castle. I had little to occupy my mind other than alternating between worry over my own fate and Kenet’s, and soon Kenet was all I could think of.
On the third night I lay upon the sleeping pallet and stroked myself, imagining that it was my prince’s hand rather than mine arousing me so.
Later, when I discovered I could not spill, no matter how I tried to coax or force my straining cock into it, the only release I could find was in tears.
It was not yet dawn when I was woken by the sound of voices, low enough, yet some part of me had been straining to hear his return. I stole out of the room and down the stairs until I could hear them clearly. I stood with one hand on the stone, one hand cupping my ear to catch the echoes from some parlor below I could not see.
The first voice sounded like an elderly woman. “Please, your lordship, we would not come to you in the dark of night if it were not urgent.”
And then a man’s voice I did not know, a younger man, from the sound of it. “We saw your light burning. We have been looking for it every night.”
“What you ask is not so simple,” Sergetten said, and I could hear the exasperation in his voice. “I cannot just clap my hands and make the blight go away.”
“But Sir,” said the woman. “The boy upstairs, I’ve been feeding him as you asked. Surely—”
Sergetten interrupted her. “Do not make assumptions about him.”
There was a short bark of laughter. “Your lordship, please,” she said, but sharply this time. “What other purpose would you keep a naked boy like a pet for?”
“Grandmum!” the scandalized young man exclaimed.
“Well? The blight doubles in size every day, your lordship,” she went on. “If you expect your boy, or yourself, to eat half so well as you have, it must be beaten back, and we do not have the hands to do it. In five or six more days, the entire crop could be lost.”
“Thank you for informing me,” Sergetten said, and I could hear resignation in his tone now, softer and more diplomatic. “I can make no promises. The boy is an untrained initiate and I will not endanger him.”
“We wouldn’t ask you to,” the young man said. “Of course not.”
“My travels have been wearying and if I am to undertake this task, I must rest,” Sergetten said then. “I must ask you to go, now.”
I hurried back up on my bare feet, and into bed again, under the thin blanket, wondering at all I had heard. Sergetten had used Night Magic to transport himself and me halfway across Trest. Could he really cure a crop of blight? How? And what would I have to do?
Spread your legs, surely, I told myself wryly, for my experiences thus far had always seemed to include such things. I was somewhat mortified to find myself growing erect at the thought. I did not desire Sergetten the way I had Kan, and my memory of him taking me for the binding was more one of painful intrusion than the loving penetrations I had suffered at the hands and cocks of the Night Riders, and yet here I was, quickening at the realization that inevitably, he would have me again.
Quite suddenly the lamps came ablaze, and a moment later he strode into the room, still in his riding trousers and a plain black shirt. “On your knees,” he said, pointing to a spot on the worn rug that ran along the worktable.
If he was surprised to find me awake, or erect, he did not show it as I took my position on my knees, facing him, my palms on my thighs.
“Your education has ever been my task,” he said, while rolling up his sleeves. “Unfortunately, we have little time for you to learn all you need to know. Do not make this harder than it already is.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I merely nodded.
“The magic that binds us gives me certain powers over you, though I may choose not to exercise them. For example, I can take your voice so that you may speak only to me and not others, or even not at all. Or nothing but the words, ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir.’ You will note that I have not done this.”
“Yes, Sir. I see that,” I answered, just to prove it was true.
He folded his arms. “Now that we are properly bound, you will no longer experience painful longing to be fucked every time I am aroused. That is, unless I wish you to.” He ran his palm over the bulge of his cock and I could see it lengthening under the dark cloth. Then he pointed a finger at me and whispered a word in the old tongue.
I gasped as I was suddenly seized by that lustful ache, and I double over as if he had kicked me in the gut.
“The pain will stop if you show a proper obeisance to your master,” he said.
“P-proper—?” I could barely get the word out. It felt like nothing short of his cock ramming into me would do.
“I am subtler and less of a wild beast than Kan,” he said. He beckoned me to crawl to him. “Show me your obedience and your submission to what I am, and I will reward you by alleviating the pain. If you truly cannot divine an answer, of course, I could always just fuck you raw and leave you brimming with my milk, which would also answer for your condition. Prove to me you are a tame-able beast, Jorin Weltskin.”
He was some kind of a lord in this faraway fief, wasn’t he? Did his supplicants kneel and kiss his ring? I was already on my knees.
I crawled to him, the pain already less as I did, and I took his fingers in mine, but it was not his ring I kissed, but the strap of leather around his wrist that matched the one around my neck. The moment my lips touched the leather, the ache subsided.
He tipped my chin upward with his fingers, searching my eyes. “Good,” he said. “You inspire confidence that perhaps you can be tamed. Now, in addition to your voice, and your hunger to be fucked, I also control your release.”
I felt my cheeks go hot as I recalled touching myself earlier.
“Yes,” he said, as if he had read my mind, “I have already taken that from you. Every drop of your milk belongs to me, now. And if we are to accomplish all that we need to, we will need every drop, so you are not to waste any.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, thinking on the conversation I had overheard. “Is my milk the key to curing the blight?”
It was the wrong thing to ask, apparently. He slapped me. “How dare you spy in your master’s house!”
“I wasn’t spying, I just overheard—”
He slapped me again, and his teeth were gritted as he went on. “Another power your master holds. I know when you lie to me. And here is another. I control not only your ability to release, but your arousal itself.” He snapped his fingers and my cock went limp, a cold sweat breaking out all over me as the fever of lust I had felt earlier left me completely.
“Hands and knees,” he snapped, and I leaned forward so that I was on all fours. He retrieved something from the table, a tall and slender piece of earthenware with a wide mouth I had taken for a flower vase. He placed it on the rug under me so that my flaccid cock hung down into it, and then grabbed a fistful of my hair.
“You are correct that your milk is, indeed, one key to driving back the blight. You have also surmised by now that Night Magic always requires a certain amount of pain. But you, Weltskin, I know you can take more pain than the average boy, isn’t that so? After all, you’re a whipping boy of the royal household. Why, there might even be certain kinds of pain you barely mind at all.”
I said nothing. After all, I had said too much already.
“I assure you, though, that his will not be one of those kinds,” he said, voice low with menace. I wondered what he was going to do. Cut me? Burn me? But all I could do was wait to hear. “Do you recall I said that I control your release?” He shook my head a little as if to shake loose an answer from me.
“Yes,” I said. “But I am not near to spilling now.”
“No, you are not,” he agreed. “You are not the slightest bit aroused. Which is why it will be a unique agony you suffer when I speak the word that will make you spill nonetheless.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. He seemed to be giving me time to either consider my plight, or perhaps build up dread. I would have bowed my head, but he held me fast. “I-I’m sorry,” I said.
“You’re not,” he replied. “But you will be.” And with that he spoke the word to force the milk from my sacks into the vessel. The painful force and searing agony in my cock was nearly matched by the scream that tore from my throat.
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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.