Without thinking Davis raise the quirt and brought it down sharply on Stelleg’s firm buttocks. The squire screamed in surprise at the pain. Martin paused in fellating his newest lover.
“Why did you do that?” he asked Davis. He wasn’t worried about the guards coming to investigate. They knew better. A scream or two or a dozen from the prince’s bedchambers was nothing unusual.
“He annoyed me.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re sucking his cock and not mine.”
“You’ll get your turn.”
Davis changed tactics. “Because I want to fuck him.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Martin said with the evil grin that could only be formed on the face of a member of the aristocracy that knew he was beyond common laws. “Go ahead and fuck him while I suck him off. Whoever cums first wins.”
While Stelleg had been savvy enough to understand he would be serving the prince’s amusement, he hadn’t expected this. Before he could say anything, Martin put his cock back in his mouth, and Davis picked up the small pot of grease Martin kept in the bedroom for just this purpose. Stelleg jumped again at Davis’s touch between his buttocks, finding the young man’s anus to grease his back passage.
“Don’t fight it,” Davis whispered in his ear. “Just relax and enjoy. We’ll make a man of you yet.”
As much as he wanted to say no, Stelleg found that he was enjoying the prince’s mouth on his cock and Davis promised him a world of pleasure beyond what he had experienced in his life. And it was never a bad thing to have the favor of the prince…
Davis pulled open the ties of his breeches and pulled out his cock. It was already hard. He loved seeing Martin suck cock, even if it wasn’t his own. Using the grease from the pot, he lubricated his erection and got into position behind Stelleg. The young man didn’t resist, he was too far gone now. That was a bit of a disappointment to Davis. He liked it when the new lovers that Martin chose fought back a little. The struggle was fun.
His cock easily slipped into Stelleg’s body and the boy moaned, half in pleasure at the intrusion and half in surprise. He didn’t know he could accomplish such a thing. He tightly gripped the bed poster and let the prince and his lover use him.
“He’s tight,” Davis reported. “Definitely a virgin.”
Martin didn’t answer. His mouth was full of cock. It was hard for him to properly fellate the boy with his body shaking from Davis’s vigorous thrusts, but they had done this before with other boys, with other men, and Martin knew how to adapt to the situation.
“You like that, Stel?” Davis asked gruffly between thrusts. To his surprise, the squire answered.
“Yeah,” he moaned. “Uh-huh.”
Davis paused in mid-stroke. “I thought you said you liked girls, Stel.”
“Uh-huh,” the squire replied. He was too involved in the pleasures the two men were inflicting on him to truly care about who he was fucking.
Looking around the boy’s shoulder, Davis grinned down at the prince. Though his mouth was full of Stelleg’s cock, Davis could tell by the look in Martin’s eyes that he was truly enjoying himself and was amused by the boy’s distraction.
“You know how to choose them, my prince,” Davis said as he pressed his body tighter against Stelleg, turned his head around and kissed the boy. Stelleg kissed back with a need he didn’t know he had.
“Beautiful boy,” Davis said, resting his weight on the strong young man’s back while reaching around to caress Stelleg’s hard chest. He left the cock for Martin to enjoy.
Stelleg was doing a good job of holding himself up so Davis forgot about everything else and fucked for his own pleasure, trying to finish before Martin. He did so with a deep grunt as he balls tightened up to his body and he emptied his pleasure into the young man.
That was enough to get the squire off. The orgasm took him unexpectedly and he quickly erupted into Prince Martin’s mouth. The prince was skilled in the arts of pleasure. He kept his lock on the boy’s cock and swallowed every bit of the ejaculation. The fluid was sticky and thick and Martin took great satisfaction in capturing every little bit of it.
“As you well know, my prince,” said Davis as he watched Martin back off the boy’s still mostly hard cock, “it is your right to demand pleasure from your subjects. It’s not supposed to be the other way around.”
Martin stood up and wiped around his mouth, removing both saliva and bits of cum that Stelleg had left behind. His cock stood up proudly from his crotch. “This young man is my subject. As my role of prince and eventual king, I am to serve and protect them just as much as they are to serve and protect me.”
Davis had heard the little speech before. He wasn’t sure how much of it that Prince Martin actually believed, but it sounded nice. What he did know was that the prince liked sucking cock, especially with new lovers and young men.
“And how am I to serve you, my prince?” Davis asked.
Martin drew him close and kissed him. Davis felt the prince’s hard cock pressing into his belly. “You know how to serve me,” he replied and put his hands on Davis’s shoulders, pushing him down gently.
Davis did know how to serve his prince. He took his cock into his mouth and started sucking. It wasn’t just how he served his prince; it was how he showed his affection for his lover.
Prince Martin let out a deep sigh and rested his hands on Davis’s head. Stelleg, still bound to the bed post, watched the two older men, the men of the aristocracy, make love to each other.
Chapter Three
Prince Roderick hated the dinners and balls and parties that were part of his role as third in line for the throne. The food was pleasant enough to eat. The dancing was usually fine with talented musicians and well-trained support dancers. The conversations at the parties were the worst. Nobles and merchants looking to curry favor or to angle a way where a suitable political and economic match could be made with his older brother, Prince Martin; that’s what he hated. Roderick had no influence over any of that. He didn’t trust any of them.
When enough time had passed and he had spoken to all the right people and danced with the correct amount of women, both young women looking to make a match or their mothers looking for the exact same thing, Prince Roderick said the correct polite things and retreated to his private rooms.
He dreaded going to his bedroom almost as much as he dreaded staying in the ballroom.
The Princess Margareta was waiting for him in his bed. She was wearing only a white cotton nightgown. He knew why she was there. She was there because it was her duty. It was his duty to service her. Margareta had left the party early than he had. She was allowed. She was the princess who was supposed to provide the next legitimate heir; she had only one duty to fulfill.
“Did you know that…she would be here?” Margareta said the moment he walked in and saw her lounging on his bed.
Roderick sighed and began undressing. His valet rushed to help him, but Roderick waved him away and dismissed him for the night. The valet was more than trustworthy and had witnessed more secrets than even the most experienced spy in the king’s network. Roderick sent him away regardless.
“Of course I knew she would be here,” he replied. “You saw her at court greeting my mother just like I did.”
“You fucked her, didn’t you?”
He opened the wardrobe that sat near the bed, partly to hang up his jacket, but mostly to avoid having to look directly at Margareta. “What does it matter?” he asked. He left the implied statement that Pauline was already pregnant so it didn’t matter if he had sex with her one more time. The fact that Margareta couldn’t keep a child in her belly was the real issue.
“You’re supposed to be fucking me,” she said, the resentment obvious in her voice. “You and I have a duty to fulfill.”
“A duty to fulfill,” he sighed. “You make it sound so…enticing.” He closed the wardrobe doors and turned to face his wife.
She was kneeling on the bed now and
was in the midst of pulling the long white nightgown up over her head. Roderick found himself staring and couldn’t deny how her naked body still managed to stir him. Maybe it was because she looked so young. Her breasts were small, capped by narrow areolas so pale pink that they barely contrasted with her snowy skin. While her hips flared out like any woman’s, they seemed narrow, especially because of her flat stomach. There was a fine strip of golden curls between her legs which made her seem almost too young to be married. As it was she was becoming a spinster without children because of her age; if she had been unmarried at this point in her life, she wouldn’t have been a prospect at all for Prince Roderick.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sex or wasn’t accommodating to Roderick. Immediately following their marriage, they had spent just as much time in bed as out of it, eager to get her with child, both for their selfish reasons. She did and tried everything the Roderick suggested to give them both pleasure toward their ultimate goal. Roderick suspected that Margareta’s father had hired a coquette for her to learn the fine art of lovemaking, for no innocent girl would do or consider or suggest half of what Margareta did.
It had been good, physically at least. They quickly discovered that while they enjoyed sex together, their personalities didn’t mesh. She had been raised to be a tool of her family to improve their social standing and cement aristocratic relations. He had been raised as a spare prince in the case of a terrible tragedy that someone else would be there to take over the throne. He was an afterthought. They didn’t have compatible world views.
A momentary frown crossed her face but was replaced with a seductive smile. She slid her hand up the inside of her thigh, skirting the edge of her sex and letting it come to a rest on her belly. Margareta knew exactly what she was doing. “Don’t you want to fuck your wife?” she asked. “Don’t you want to compare her to your lover?”
It should have pissed him off. Instead it appealed to his sense of virility. Could he fuck two women in one day? He knew he could. He knew his wife was proving a point. That he had one duty to fulfill and fucking his already pregnant mistress was a waste of his time. He wanted to fuck her, just to prove his own point.
“Don’t you think I know who is the better of you two by now?” he asked as he stripped off the remainder of his clothing. His cock wasn’t full hard yet, but it wouldn’t take much to get him there.
“Give me one last chance to prove I’m better?” she asked and then looked down at her body. Her hands cupped her small breasts and she rolled her nipples between her fingers, twisting them, causing her body to quiver.
“Harder,” he encouraged her.
“You like to see me suffer, don’t you?” she asked her husband.
“I like to make you suffer,” he said and opened up the door to the wardrobe again.
The long leather thongs he pulled out were intended to be used to lace up boots or close riding jackets. They had other purposes as well. Margareta didn’t resist. She offered Roderick her wrist. He efficiently tied the leather strap around it and then to the corner of the elaborately carved wooden headboard. A second thong went around her other wrist and she had to stretch a bit to reach the opposite corner of the headboard, leaving her face up and vulnerable.
If Roderick hadn’t fucked his mistress earlier in the day, he would have eagerly climbed onto her body and fucked her to get the act over with, but he had time and he was determined to take a little pleasure in the act. Margareta didn’t protest when another thong went around her ankle and it was tied to the footboard. There was no reason to fight the final thong around her last limb and then she was efficiently trussed up on Roderick’s bed, open and available to be used.
“Is this how you like me?” she asked. “Bound and helpless?”
“Quiet,” he told her. “Or I’ll gag your mouth as well.”
Margareta fell silent because of the threat. It wasn’t that she was afraid of having a gag in her mouth, but having to wear one would mean that her mouth would be unavailable to be used by Roderick.
He considered her body. Except for being a little small, it was perfect. Too perfect. He reached into the wardrobe and removed a new object. She shivered at its sight.
“Scared?” he asked her.
Margareta opened her mouth to speak, but then remembered she was supposed to remain silent and just shook her head.
“I think you’re lying,” he said and brought the quirt down hard across her belly.
The only way to prevent herself from screaming was to clamp her lips tightly together and grind her teeth. Still, she made a hideous, though muffled sound, because she didn’t want to anger her husband.
He wasn’t angry, he was aroused. The arousal of his cock followed the rising of the bright red splotch across Margareta’s belly. The color was in high contrast to her pristine skin. It was beautiful and ugly at the same time.
“Did that hurt?” he asked, transferring the quirt from right hand to left so he could stroke the length of his cock a few times.
She shook her head.
“Don’t lie to me,” he told her. “Speak. I want to hear your words.”
Swallowing, Margareta said, “Yes it hurt. Of course it hurt. But I loved it too.” She twisted her hips slightly, giving her husband what he wanted, trying to entice him.
“Liar.” He transferred the quirt back to his right hand, smiled at her without affection, and brought it down with perfect precision onto her little mounds, first the left and then the right. This time the red splotches caused her to lose control. The cry she let out was one of pain and frustration. It should have been enough to bring a guard or valet or maid, but they were all smart enough to stay away. These were sounds they had all heard before.
“Did you like that?” he asked her.
As much as she wanted to lie, Margareta found that she couldn’t. The pain was too intense. “No!” she wailed.
“Good,” he murmured and sat down on the edge of the bed while setting the quirt aside. His cock was rising proudly up out of his lap and he absently stroked it while he spoke to her. “You are so perfect, so beautiful, the only way to make you better is to make you ugly.”
Margareta said nothing as Roderick caressed the side of her face, trailed his fingers down to her small tits where he tweaked one nipple and then the other to get a little gasp out of her, then then down to her cunt.
It was open and wet and ready for him. Her heat was obvious. When his finger dragged over her clit she bucked her hips and he smirked at her reaction. It was easy to slip a pair of fingers up into her sex. She took them easily. He went as deep as possible, all the way up to his palm, and brought his thumb in contact with her clit which he rubbed viciously.
She groaned and strained, looking for even more friction.
“Do you like that?” he asked again.
“Yesss…” she moaned.
Abruptly Roderick yanked away his hand. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” he cautioned her.
Margareta nodded in agreement, knowing this was all part of a game, knowing she had to play along and please him.
“Open.”
She opened her mouth and he placed his fingers into it. Closing her lips around his strong fingers she sucked greedily. It’s what he wanted. She tasted herself. As always the flavor of her cunt surprised and delighted her. There was something so raw and animalistic about it. Maybe they couldn’t stand talking with each other and being polite in the court or in the ballroom, but they did well together in the bedroom.
Tired of the foreplay, Roderick climbed on top of his wife and shoved his cock into her waiting cunt without ceremony. She gasped in surprise. It’s what he wanted to hear and it’s what she found she was unexpectedly enjoying.
Tried up securely as she was, Margareta couldn’t embrace her husband. She knew he didn’t want her kissing him. All she could do as lay there and be used by him. It was her good fortune to enjoy being used in exactly that way.
There was some small bit of play
in thongs and she could move her arms and legs, but not to any real affect, but it allowed her enough movement to make it seem like she was struggling against him. Roderick liked that. She wasn’t truly fighting him and he knew that, but it was all part of the ritual. He used her body like he would use his fist or a camp follower like he had during the war.
Her cunt was hot and wet and tight and perfect for fucking. She arched her back and clamped down with her pelvic muscles to enhance her husband’s pleasure. Her pleasure was meaningless. All that mattered was that he fill her with his seed and complete the deed.
But she did enjoy it. She enjoyed it more than she liked to admit.
“Do you like that?” he asked as he pounded into her as hard as he could.
She did, but said nothing. She couldn’t speak. She was gasping for breath, overwhelmed by what was happening.
“Slut. Coquette. Doxy. Whore!” When he completed his string of insults he climaxed, flooding her cunt with his cum.
What he didn’t notice as he was finishing was that his wife had cum as well. It didn’t matter to him.
It mattered to her.
Chapter Four
Walking into his father’s private office Roderick immediately sensed something was wrong. It didn’t take a genius to puzzle out that fact. Instead of the usual small circle of advisors and a ceremonial bodyguard there was only his father, Crown Prince Bradford, his chamberlain, Lord Emile, and almost too many of the royal bodyguard to count. It was a struggle for Roderick to stifle the groan that started to form in his throat.
“Roderick, come in, sit down,” his father boomed upon seeing him. The office, even though it was supposed to be the small, private office of the crown prince, was almost half the size of the formal courtroom used for ceremonial purposes and it was full of bodies in armor and carrying weapons.
“What now?” he asked his father without formality. “Are we plotting a war or an execution?” He knew that neither was likely. He already knew the truth.
The Elliot Silvestri Erotic Reader Volume 6 Page 21