Before Vasten could answer the two guards returned, each dragging a hooded prisoner. The hoods were summarily removed to reveal both his wife and his lover. The two stared at Vasten and the room in confusion a moment before they set eyes on each other. At once they scowled, almost in unison.
“Cheap whore,” Vasten’s wife spat.
“Dry cunt,” his lover spat back.
“Such a lovely way to greet each other,” said an amused Hammond. “You both share his cock so you’ll both share his torture.”
“What?” the wife asked in confusion. She wasn’t an ugly woman, but years and childbirth hadn’t been kind to her.
“He’s going to torture us, you stupid cunt,” the lover told her. He you a younger man, almost pretty, but too crude-featured to pull it off.
“Whenever my subject has a wife or child or lover I know I’m going to get what I want,” said Hammond. He then addressed the two guards. “Hands on the chopping block,” he ordered. Though the two prisoners struggled, they weren’t any match for the burly guards and shortly both had one hand each splayed wide on a wooden board not unlike what a butcher would have in his store. “Last chance,” Hammond said to Vasten who was staring at the two people he loved the most. He didn’t know what to do. “Well?”
“I—I can’t,” he gasped.
“Very well,” Hammond said amicably. “Choose one.”
“What?”
“Choose one,” Hammond said precisely. “You can’t save both. Choose one or the other or I’ll choose both.” He picked up a heavy cleaver exactly like what a butcher would have in his store. “Neither is going back to you whole.”
“Vasten!” his wife pleaded, tears were in her eyes. “I’m you wife! The mother of your children! Tell him what he wants!” She glanced at the young man next to her at the chopping block. “Choose me. He’s nothing but a faggot!”
“You love me, Vasten,” his lover begged. “You’ve told me again and again how dry and useless her cunt is. I know you love me and not her! Choose me!”
The assassin didn’t know what to do.
Hammond raised the cleaver. “Ten fingers each. Twenty opportunities. And you have children as well. This will get bloody.” His smile was thin. “The only question is how much you’re willing to lose before you tell all.”
The cleaver descended.
Roderick found that he liked sneaking through the secret passages of the palace. They really weren’t all that secret, and there were enough keys to the doors to allow almost anyone access, but it was the mere act of going through the motions of doing something that was illicit that gave it the fun element that was missing from his life. And his life had taken yet another downward turn in recent hours.
Slipping into Oliver’s room was easy. Oliver would never lock the secret entrance to his room, that would prevent a possible lover from joining him in bed. Either he didn’t worry about assassination or felt he was safe in his bed, either way, it was an advantage to Roderick.
The crown prince wasn’t at all surprised to mind Oliver in bed with not one but two other people. It was the middle of the day so, as painful as it was for him, Roderick had to rouse Oliver from his slumber, even if his cousin had only gone to sleep in the small hours of the morning, though it was possible he had been awake as late as the dawn.
“Awake awake, dear cousin,” he sang while flinging back the curtains that had been drawn to stave off the day’s light. There was a certain satisfaction in letting the light of day into the dark recesses of the palace. “I have disturbing news!”
“Why would I want to awake to that?” muttered Oliver as he slowly came to consciousness.
“It’s all part of your royal duties,” replied Roderick as he flung back the bedcovers to discover who Oliver had spent the night with.
He didn’t recognize the pair immediately. After a moment of contemplation he placed them as part of Oliver’s over-large retinue. The girl had a pretty enough face with firm, almost boyish, features but she kept her hair short and had tiny tits that actually complimented her slim hips. She wasn’t to Roderick’s taste, but he didn’t begrudge Oliver his choice of lovers. The boy was almost a perfect match to the girl. He had features that were decidedly feminine and his thin body was completely hairless, like the girl. His chest was no larger than hers, his hair just as short. The only real difference was the erection that sprouted up between his legs. The young man’s cock was thin and delicate. It made Roderick wonder if the boy was a eunuch or if Oliver allowed him to retain his balls. Either way, the boy still wasn’t to Roderick’s taste.
“Really cousin?” Oliver protested. Even though he had just been roused from sleep his cock was hard and ready for use. Roderick didn’t know if he should attribute that to Oliver’s natural randiness or if his cousin was using the spice that was all the rage among the nouve-riche aristos and their male whores. Supposedly it could give a man enough stamina to fuck all night—and day, if necessary. “I can understand you waking me for important matters, but can you at least wait for me to have my morning fuck?” He turned his head and kissed the boy. There was just the faintest hint of blonde whiskers on the boy’s face. Knowing his place the boy reached for Oliver’s erect cock and started stroking it. Oliver groaned in appreciation. “Mmm, this is the way to wake up.” His eyes fluttered as the girl kissed his cheek and he turned he head to accept her tongue into his mouth. Roderick shook his head in annoyance. The two whores were obviously well-trained and knew to service their master rather than defer to the needs of the prince.
As Roderick watched the boy started kissing his way down Oliver’s body and eventually engulfed the earl’s cock with his mouth while the girl and Oliver continued to exchange kisses.
“I don’t have time for this,” Roderick commented. He had no need to see his cousin have sex; he’d seen that plenty already in his life.
“Why don’t you join us, dear cousin,” said Oliver. “I’m sure Tev’s not to your liking, but Tis has a lovely cunt. She’d be proud to have the crown prince fuck her.” The girl—Tis, undoubtedly a name given to her by Oliver—turned her head to smile at Roderick and shyly wink at him. Had she started her life as a girl in a traveling acting troupe? A peasant’s daughter? Was she born in a whorehouse? Was she some minor criminal that Oliver took advantage of? Roderick knew that it didn’t matter.
“Not now,” said Roderick. Even as he spoke Tis disengaged herself from Oliver, leaving the earl to Tev’s talented mouth and started crawling down the large bed toward Roderick. Even crawling like an animal her tits were still tiny, barely any flesh hanging free from her chest.
“There’s always time for a relaxing fuck,” Oliver contradicted him. “Or one to start the day.”
When Tis reached for Roderick he stepped back and remembered his place in the world. “Oliver, what I’m about to tell you might have you facing the headsman’s axe.”
Oliver snorted. He was annoyed his cousin, whom he loved very much, was ruining a perfectly good blowjob. “I doubt that, cousin. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then tell me why your aunt—my mother—is the one behind all the murders of the aristos over the past month?”
Oliver pushed away his whore and shoved aside Tis who had been pawing at Roderick. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“My mother is a treasonous whore.”
End Part Three
Part Four
Chapter Seventeen
“Dangerous words,” said Oliver. “I never knew you hated your mother.”
Roderick sniffed. “I think it’s she hates me. And my father.”
Tis, the little whore whom Oliver had all but given to Roderick wrapped her arm around Oliver’s leg and rested her cheek on his thigh. This distracted him enough to push her away again. As much as he wanted to fuck either Tis or Tev, it wasn’t going to happen now. “Leave us,” he ordered. The two whores climbed off the bed and disappeared into the next room.
Roderick’s eyes narrowed a
s he watched the two depart. He automatically followed the lithe sway of Tis’s buttocks. “Can we trust them?”
Oliver shrugged. “For the most part. I’ll keep them under lock and key for the next few weeks. I’ll sell them off if I need to. Who is going to believe a couple of whores, anyway?”
“That’s the problem,” said Roderick. “If anyone believes them—”
“That’s not the real problem,” Oliver pointed out. “The real problem is why your mother—supposedly—has had so many people killed. Including an attempt on your life.”
Roderick slowly shook his head. “No, the real problem is what happens to her next.”
Aphra tightened the thin rope around her victim’s wrist. The rope was thin but strong enough to hold a man in place. But her victim wasn’t a man, it was the Princess Margareta. The pretty wife of Prince Roderick was naked and bound to her bed, limbs splayed, wrists and ankles bound to each corner post of the bed and a gag securely fixed in her mouth.
“Too tight?” Aphra asked her lover.
Margareta shook her head back and forth. In her right hand she had a wadded up red scarf that she continued to grip.
What they were doing was dangerous, not because Aphra didn’t know how to effectively bind and control another person, but because if they were interrupted there would be too many questions to answer. “Good,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel.
To heighten the tension of the moment, Aphra was still fully dressed while the princess was naked and vulnerable. She used that power imbalance to delight the princess. Reaching out, she grasped the princess’s nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched and twisted it.
Margareta arched her back and cried out in pain, but the cry was muffled by the gag. No one could hear her.
Before proceeding Aphra glanced at Margareta’s right hand and saw the scarf still there. Without asking permission or giving warning, Aphra brought her hand down sharply on the princess’s other breast, slapping the nipple as hard as she dared. Margareta gasped and twisted in pain. “Too much?” Aphra asked as she watched the pinkness spread across Margareta’s chest.
Once more Margareta shook her head back and forth. Aphra marveled at her pain tolerance. Next she dipped her fingers into the princess’s cunt, pushing them deeply into the crevice, discovering her wetness and then withdrew her fingers before Margareta could get any real enjoyment from the penetration. Tasting her fingers, Aphra proclaimed, “Your cunt is a sweet delight.”
Margareta didn’t react. Aphra knew what she needed. The wooden pegs were split nearly in half and were used by the laundresses to hold clothes on lines to dry them. They fit neatly on Margareta’s pretty nipples. She shook her head and whined through her gag, but Aphra ignored that; she knew the pain wasn’t that great. The scarf remained wadded up in Margareta’s hand.
“With your permission,” she asked mockingly and got into position between Margareta’s legs. She licked the length of the princess’s swollen and wet lips before getting the clit between her lips and sucking as hard as she dared. Margareta bucked her body about, but Aphra was much stronger than the bound princess and it was an easy feat to hold her in place while she continued her vigorous bout of cunnilingus. It was an honor to do this to the princess, and Aphra was delighted that the princess liked her lovemaking rough. The princess was so desperate for attention and affection it was incredibly easy for Aphra to make her cum.
Margareta practically levitated her body off the bed when she came, partially propelled by the muffled noise that was diminished by the gag in her mouth. Aphra didn’t stop eating the princess’s cunt, and pinned her back to the bed, trying for another orgasm. Margareta was already on edge and when Aphra reached up with both hands and plucked the pegs from her nipples, the painful orgasm that ran through her body was the height of perfection.
Aphra didn’t release the princess from her bindings right away, but she did remove her gag so she could kiss Margareta. Tears were seeping out of the corners of the princess’s eyes and Aphra kissed them away. “Thank you,” Margareta said softy. Her lover noted that the scarf was still gripped tightly in her fist.
“It was my pleasure, my princess,” she said as she curled up next to Margareta. Her silk dress felt cool and comfortable against Margareta’s naked skin.
“You know, you could be tried for treason for what you just did to me,” Margareta teased. “Think of what would happen if Roderick walked in right now.”
“I think he’d want to fuck me,” Aphra said boldly and reached between Margareta’s legs. “Or maybe he’d like to fuck you while making me watch. After all, your cunt is more than ready.” There was a slowly spreading wet spot on the bed, but Aphra knew to expect that with her lover.
“He’s more interested in his mistress or some other coquette rather than me,” Margareta said dismissively.
“I’d give you a child if I could,” Aphra said softly. They both knew that was impossible.
“I should take a male lover. It doesn’t matter who. My husband can’t do the necessary feat with me, so maybe someone else could.”
They both knew that was also impossible. Roderick happily tolerated Margareta dallying with Aphra, but he considered her cunt his property and no other man’s cock was allowed anywhere near it.
“You’re starting to bruise,” Aphra pointed out, her finger circling the princess’s areola. Little purple marks were growing on her breasts where Aphra had been too rough.
Margareta sniffed. “Release me. The bruises don’t matter. He’s happy I have a lover that poses no threat to him.”
Aphra loosened the ropes, stopping with each limb to admire how the rope had left regular marks on wrist and ankle. When Margareta was free, she pulled Aphra down to her for another kiss.
“I love you,” the princess said abruptly.
Her words startled and frightened Aphra. “No you don’t,” she said quickly. “We have affection for our dalliance. Not love.”
Margareta didn’t address Aphra’s denial. “Does serving in the king’s army preclude you from marrying?” she asked.
“No, but I have no desire to marry a man.”
“And I’m already married,” said Margareta. “I suppose I’ll have to be satisfied with having you as a lover.” She pulled Aphra back down to her on the bed and they cuddled together. Aphra let her hands roam over the princess’s smooth skin, feeling the slope of her limbs and the pleasant curve of her belly down to her cunt.
Chapter Eighteen
“You can’t accuse your mother of treason based only one the tortured confession of one man, a questionable man at that. Besides, why would she want all those people dead—including you?” Oliver had a good point.
Roderick had an answer.
“She has effectively cut off the bloodline from my father’s family ever controlling the throne again—but that would mean I have to die as well.”
“Even if she did kill you, her only living son because Martin is also dead, that wouldn’t put her on the throne.”
“No,” agreed Roderick. Oliver had put on a dressing gown, but the thin silk hid nothing from Roderick’s eyes. “After I die, you’d be next on the throne.”
Oliver’s jaws worked in protest, but no words came out of his mouth. Abruptly he laughed. “You don’t honestly believe I want to rule this kingdom, do you?!”
Roderick considered his cousin. He was seated on the edge of the bed and all but naked. Roderick was standing, facing his best friend from childhood. He could feel the weight of the dagger at his belt.
“No,” he said after a long, uncomfortable silence. “You’d rather fuck your lovers and drink my wine. You have no plans to put your ass on the throne.”
Oliver exhaled in relief.
“But I believe you’re the pawn of my mother’s plan. I have need of more proof and you’ll help me get it.”
“Just kill the bitch before she gives birth.”
“I’ll need more money.”
“Why?
I already paid you for the job. Now finish it.”
“Before she was barely guarded. Now it will be ten times as difficult.”
“I should have to suffer because of your incompetence?”
The man in the shadow shrugged. “If you want the job completed, yes.”
“Why can I not get money for my household expenses?” Princess Annedulisia demanded of her son.
Roderick regarded her carefully. “All accounts have been frozen while the royal inspector does an auditing of all expenses. I’m not having money flying out of the palace now when it is needed for critical matters.”
“I have a critical need,” Annedulisia said firmly.
“Then submit a receipt to the royal inspector and he’ll have it paid.” He paused. “If it is a necessary expense.”
“It’s for clothing,” Annedulisia said, her lip curling. “Of course it’s critical.”
“I doubt that,” Roderick said coolly. “But once the accounting is done, your account will be settled.”
His mother bristled at the restriction, but said nothing more. Lifting up her skirts, she swirled around and marched out of the office.
The party that Oliver had arranged was ridiculous. Ostensibly, it was supposed to be a masquerade but everyone who had been invited knew who was who. Wearing masks did little to hide everyone’s identity. Masks were also the only article of clothing most people were wearing, though some kept on scarfs or stockings and jewelry. Supposedly the masks were to hide the identities of the revelers from each other, but they all knew each other too well for that. Some men went so far as to raise their masks when performing cunnilingus or fellatio on their partners, but it was all in good fun.
Roderick watched as Oliver knelt behind Tev and pushed his cock into the boy’s bottom. He couldn’t tell if Tev enjoyed the attention or not because the prettyboy’s face was buried between Tis’s leg, eagerly eating her cunt. The switchgirl definitely liked what Tev was doing based on her writhing body and how tightly her eyes were screwed shut, which was easily visible behind her mask.
The Elliot Silvestri Erotic Reader Volume 6 Page 29
