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 the Epilogue: Kenet

Epilogue: Kenet

I was in a small room deep in the castle archives, reading, when Velred crept timorously up to the door.

I saved him the trouble of having to disturb me by yawning and turning toward him. “Oh, hello, Velred. Is it time for banquet already?” It was not unusual for me to lose myself in the diaries and arcana for hours at a time, as I searched for knowledge about my power.

“No, my prince,” he said with a bow. “Although if you have not yet taken a midday meal you certainly should. However that is not what I am here to tell you. There are some visitors seeking an audience with you.”

“Visitors?” I raised a skeptical eyebrow, curious who would warrant disturbing me at my study.

“Yes, my prince. Your guard, er, Captain Jorin himself came to tell me to fetch you.” Velred colored slightly as he caught himself. Jorin had only just been made captain of the guard a few days before, after Jaiks had retired with honors, and until then most everyone had fallen into the habit of calling him “my” guard.

He was still my guard, of course, but he was father’s and Kan’s as well, now. Most of the Night Riders had joined the ranks of the castle guard, too, and between them and the men Jorin had known from his days training with them, Jorin was universally accepted as Jaiks’s successor. I followed Velred out of the archive.

Waiting for me was the captain himself, wearing the short red cloak and ceremonial sword of his office, warming his hands at the fireplace in the reading room. He took my hands in his the moment he saw me. “Tcha, how do you not freeze down among the books?” he asked, as he warmed my fingers between his palms.

“Velred warms a stone for me here by the fire and I sit with it in my lap while I read,” I answered. “So I am quite warm. Except for my fingers. He said there are visitors?”

“Why yes, and grateful to have made it up the mountainside before the snow, I would say,” he teased, grinning at me. “Having come from so far.”

“Who, Jorin? And they’ve come to see me, not father?” I was trying to guess. It could not be Roichal and Marksin; we received regular reports from them.

“Well, no doubt they will want to speak to your father, as well, and Sergetten. But come and see.” He ushered me out of the room and toward the small reception hall nearest by.

The maids had already treated the travelers’ chill with warm spiced wine and so their cheeks and noses were quite red when I stepped into the room as Jorin announced me. “Prince Kenet, as requested, lords and ladies.”

Tendrif leapt to his feet, Jort following only a bit slower as he had to put down his wine goblet first. “My prince!”

I grinned upon seeing them, and kissed Tendrif on the cheeks in the Pellonese style. Jort, meanwhile, threw himself at my feet and kissed my boots. “Arise, please,” I said.

Jort looked up at me. “Thank you, my prince, I cannot thank you enough for your kindness. My life is so very changed.”

“Well then, please take a seat so that I might hear about it and your travels. Tendrif, how is Solliran? Is all well within your borders?” I took my own seat at the head of the small table and Jorin stood behind me. I looked back at him. “At my side, if you please.”

He chuckled, motioned for another guard to take his place behind me, and then sat in the chair at my right. Tendrif and Jort took their seats again, and Jorin called for food to be brought.

“My lord is well,” Tendrif said, “and has mollified the Frangi somewhat, though they are in a bad state after what Seroi did to their ranks. They will be open to a spring parley, but they will not accept the word of a mere ambassador.”

I said nothing to that, merely nodding. “And would Solliran welcome the parley at his table, were they to agree? Or is that still too much in Trest’s favor?”

“I believe they would welcome it, though perhaps in Port Aris rather than the capitol.”

I shared a glance with Jorin. “I would not mind a return to Port Aris in the spring.”

“Sergetten should be strong enough to travel by then,” Jorin said.

Tendrif jumped as if he’d been stuck with a pin. “Is Lord Sergetten ill?”

“He suffered some grave injuries in the fight to overcome Seroi,” I said. “His mind and his tongue are as sharp as ever, however.”

“That is excellent news. I have much to discuss with him.” Tendrif sat forward excitedly. “We are going to propose the founding of a training academy for Night Magic adepts. I have already begun teaching a few students. Jort here is writing the textbook.”

I turned my attention to Jort. “Indeed? You had not struck me as the studious type.”

“I’ve always been good with reading and writing, my prince,” he said, cheeks coloring. “And organization. That’s how I ended up a supply clerk in the military. I… I thank you for the second chance.”

“You’re welcome.” We both knew perfectly well that if I’d wanted his balls chopped off—or his head—that it would have been done. “You’re both looking in good health. The journey wasn’t too difficult, then? What did you see as you crossed the country?”

The maids began to lay food on the table and Jorin immediately began to tear into the bread and serve himself, drawing a surprised look from Tendrif at first. Then he recalled that I did not eat in the manner that a normal man did.

Jorin, meanwhile, ate heartily; as he often joked, he was eating for both of us. Tendrif served himself as well, and told a tale of easy travel until they reached the foothills and the weather had begun to turn. He spoke of the incredible feasts they had been treated to in small villages along the route, as the late summer and autumn harvests had been the most bountiful in memory. The spring and mid-summer blights had vanished.

“The people ascribe it to you, Prince Kenet,” he said. “The tales they tell, well, it is nothing short of divinity, and had I not known some of it to be true, I might have scoffed. They call you Prince of Thunder, and many nights I must admit, the feast to which we were treated was in your honor, upon the telling of my tale and how you, ahem, cowed Lord Solliran.”

I sipped a bit of wine. This was an old vintage, but I looked forward to the future years when this year’s harvest would be bottled. It would be a good one, I thought, given how late the frost had come and how heavy the fruit had grown before it was picked. “The good harvest is my doing, we think,” I said. “Or perhaps mine and Jorin’s.” I took his hand, which slowed his eating somewhat, but he squeezed my fingers warmly.

Lacking better guidance, we had invented our own ritual. I had taken Jorin into the forest where I could smell the earth and sink my fingers into it while he took me from behind until I spilled, my cock untouched, onto the ground. My milk was then washed away by a thundershower, spreading it yet further.

Tendrif looked at me in open amazement. “But ensuring a good harvest… that would be Day Magic, would it not?”

“Perhaps so.” I gave a shrug. “We know even less of Day Magic than Night Magic these days, with little more than hedge witch remedies and arcane poetry to go on in the written records. Sergetten would like to unravel the mystery. I am content to know that the power in my blood responds to my will, and I shall learn more about it with time.”

“And…. and your brother? Does he carry the power of the storm as well?” Tendrif asked, quite boldly, I thought.

I set down my goblet. “I am sure that he has the inherent ability, but I do not know how to train him to unleash it. For now, anyway, I am the only Prince of Thunder. He has been named heir to the throne, however.”

Tendrif bowed his head. “Indeed, that is one of my other ambassadorial duties for this journey,” he said. “I come bearing an offer of the marriage of my lord’s sister to your brother.”

“Is she as pretty as Solliran?” Jorin asked.

“Oh, er, quite,” Tendrif answered, blushing somewhat.

Jorin grinned and said no more.

“You may present the marriage proposal properly to my father at court,” I said, stifling a grin of my own. “As well as the other proposals. There is little hurry, however. I expect you will be staying with us for a few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Tendrif echoed.

“Yes. It’s just begun to snow, heavy and thick.”

Everyone’s heads turned toward the tall, thin window enclosed with glass. The wind shifted and threw fluffy white flakes against the panes.

“I don’t expect it to let up for several days,” I said. “And then it may be some time before the roads are passable again.”

Tendrif looked back at me. “And this is your doing?”

“No. But I can feel it.” I closed my eyes, and it was as if I could hear the blanket of snow settling over the land. Snow would insulate plants better than a bitter chill, and would ensure full streams in the spring.

They retired to their quarters shortly after that and Jorin dismissed the guard. He and I sat on the sill of the window, watching the snow whiten the courtyard below until we heard a cough behind us.

Sergetten had emerged from the secret passageway. Jorin asked him, “Well? Were they telling the truth?”

“Yes.” Sergetten nodded. “Interesting about Solliran’s sister. Maeda, I think is her name, and if I recall, she is quite a beauty.”

“Not that it matters,” Jorin said with a chuckle. “Since Kan will fuck anything that moves.” He put a hand on Sergetten’s shoulder then. “Are you spent?”

Sergetten shook his head. “The spell to read the truth of them required only my arousal, not my release. I should, however, rest before banquet.”

Jorin squeezed my hand. “You’re sure you don’t need… assistance?”

Sergetten’s normally impassive face grew sly then, with a half smile and knowing eyes. “I must still conserve my energy, so forgive me if I am reserving the privilege of my release for my king.”

Jorin was not so reserved. He laughed out loud and pulled a startled Sergetten into a hug, then turned to me. “I win,” he said with a grin. “Did I not say Sergetten would have him before the winter was out?”

I folded my hands. “You did. Surely though Lord Sergetten takes my father’s milk from a silver goblet and not some more vulgar manner…?” I teased.

“Tcha, seriously, Sergetten,” Jorin broke in. “You can hide nothing from us because we hide nothing from you. Which does he use to deliver you the royal milk, then, mouth or backside?”

I was amazed, then, to see Sergetten blush. That was even more rare than seeing my father cry. “You whelps,” he said. “Didn’t I teach you respect for your elders?”

Jorin’s grin was toothy. “What are you going to do about it? Beat me?”

Sergetten put on a stern look. “And what made you so certain of… of…your wager.”

“Well, I know if you want something, you’re tireless until you get it,” Jorin said.

“All too true,” Sergetten agreed. “However, tireless is one thing I am not, these days. Fortunately, I did learn a thing or two about topping from the bottom from you.”

Jorin’s laughed. “I take it the king’s technique has improved greatly since he had a go at me?”

“Sky above, yes. Now that is enough on that subject,” Sergetten said, folding his arms with faux gruffness. “I must begin preparing you both for an ambassadorial journey. My prince, I suggest that we shall meet daily after the midday meal and before your father sees his afternoon appointments.”

“That would suit me well, Sergetten. You may wish to tell Velred to remind me of it, should I become absorbed in my research.”

“I shall, my prince.” He bowed to us then, but did not immediately leave.

Jorin turned to me. “He’s dying to know what the stakes in our bet were. After all, what can you offer me that is not already mine by right?”

Sergetten gave a brief nod, acknowledging his curiosity.

I closed my eyes as Jorin slid a hand into my hair. He was careful not to dislodge the circlet of gold I wore. “He is my lover as well as my slave,” Jorin said to Sergetten, and I felt a shiver down my back. “There is no pleasure that can be named that he would deny me, no service I could ask that he would not hesitate to give. However, it is rare for me to strike him.”

“Is it?” came Sergetten’s answer. “Does he object to being struck?”

Jorin’s hand tightened enough for me to feel it, then let go. “He is not fond of pain,” he said in a soft voice.

“That is not the question I asked,” Sergetten said.

“I know.” Jorin’s thumb traced the curve of my cheek. “However, I fear should I beat him too often, he might come to like it from my hand. And then how would I punish him?”

“Ahh, a fine dilemma to have,” Sergetten said. “There are those who come to crave the whip. But that in itself is a way to compel obedience, as reward rather than punishment. Well, my prince, I leave you to the stripes you have earned. Good day to you, Captain.”

I heard his robes rustle as he withdrew, and then the door shutting firmly.

Jorin pulled me against him, his cock throbbing against my thigh, even through the cloth of our garments. “Do you suppose he’s watching now?” he whispered into my ear. “Or has he gone straight to your father for release?”

“Please, Jorin, let’s go to our room,” I answered, even as I tilted my head to give him my neck to suckle. “Please not here.”

“Oh, I am not planning to stripe you here,” he murmured. “That I shall save until later, in our room, where the implements are. For the moment, though…” He broke off to kiss me, arousing my own passion using only the generosity and gentleness of his mouth, not his magic.

“Why not here, beloved?” he whispered then as he nuzzled my ear.

“I… what if you are right and Sergetten—or my father!—is watching!”

“And what if they are?” he answered, as his hands pulled me against him. “They can look away if they cannot stand the reminder of what we are and who we are. A reminder I think you need, my prince…”

My cheeks flushed with heat. “Oh. Oh, my lord…”

He lifted me onto the table and parted my robes, my cock springing up eagerly to meet his hand. He pulled gently at it until I moaned, then slicked it with something he must have dug from his belt pouch with the other hand. He undid his sword belt and let it and his trousers fall to his ankles, and then slicked his own cock in the same manner.

I tried to part my thighs for him, but I was perched on the very edge of the table and could not get my boots up that high. Jorin hitched my ankles under his arms instead and rubbed his cock against my cock until I my hips were rolling with each thrust, wanting more.

Then he set to rutting against my hole, softening me gradually using only his cock, not his fingers, just pushing at the flesh again and again until at last I was supple enough to yield to him. Into my body his cock plunged. I clutched at him, expecting the pain to be worse, but there was only a bare moment when it was too much, and then a moment later, I rolled my own hips trying to push him deeper.

He chuckled low. “Thunder’s roll, my cock belongs right where it is. In you.”

I grunted with agreement.

“We’re to meet with Sergetten every afternoon now? Hm.” He stroked slowly in and out of me, pausing each time he was fully sheathed. “And you are afraid you might forget and need your pet librarian to retrieve you?”

I nodded, too overwhelmed by the slick hardness moving inside me to really think about what he was saying.

“Well, then. Clearly we should meet just before then, each day. For this.”

“My lord?” He already fed me twice a day, once in the morning, usually in my mouth, and once at night, through the other side.

“Fifty, or a hundred?” he asked, although it was in his musing voice, so I assumed he was asking himself and not me. “A hundred, I think.”

“A hundred stripes?’ I asked, tightening around him with apprehension. “Tonight?”

He laughed. “Oh, no no, beloved.” he kissed me. “Ten tonight, I think. I was speaking of how many strokes of my cock into your tender hole. Mm, no, perhaps fifty is plenty. Do you know how many it has been?”

I shook my head.

“Just twenty five now. And now, for twenty five more, and then I shall let you go back to your archives.”

I clutched at him again as his intention became clear. “Twenty five? But… but…”

“I have no intention of spilling in you here,” he said. “Nor of letting you spill. I just wanted this, beloved, my cock inside you where it belongs. To remind you that it does, and that I may take you anywhere I please.”

“Mm. Yes, my lord. Thank you… for the… lesson.” I groaned with pleasure as he increased the pace, but not enough to make me come. Then I whimpered as he withdrew, leaving me empty and aching for him.

He kissed me then, a long and luxurious kiss. “Know that I am suffering for the lack of you just as much as you are of the lack of me,” he said. “Oh, and what a long banquet it shall be tonight, with our honored guests having arrived!” He laughed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to finish this now…?” I asked, even as he was setting my robes to rights and putting me back on my feet.

He clucked his tongue. “That question is very nearly impertinent. Fifteen stripes tonight, then.”

I could not completely hide my grin. “Very well, my lord.”

He laughed then. “You truly are starting to like it!”

The blush on my cheeks was renewed. “Well, perhaps a little… but only from your hand, my lord.”

“I would strike down any man who would dare to strike you,” he said suddenly, pulling me close again. “I am the only one with that right.”

I buried my nose against his neck, scenting leather and sweat and the warm tang of his arousal. “Then all is as it should be,” I said, as his arms tightened around me. “I love you, Jorin. I’ve loved you since the moment I held you in the courtyard of the orphanage all those years ago. That day you were supposed to be mine, but truly, I have been yours since that moment.”

“And all is as it should be,” he echoed, and pressed his mouth to mine for one more kiss, before he returned to his duties and I to my studies. After all, who knew the lesson better than we that the ache of being apart made reunion all the sweeter? No one in all of Trest, I would wager.

Can’t get enough of Kenet and Jorin? Visit The Prince’s Boy fan art gallery on Cecilia’s website!

About the author: Cecilia Tan is the award-winning author of many erotic books and stories and the founder of Circlet Press.