I glanced at the brawny slave. He glared at me, indeed not seeming pleased to have been rescued. Nor, now that I was observing him more closely, did he seem frightened. His begging must have been an act.
"What does it matter what stupidity your ignorant slave believed?" said Lord Catarain. "He laid violent hands upon me. The punishment is death."
Prince Alar held up another finger, still addressing me rather than the lord. "Two: even if Lord Catarain had been cruelly beating and torturing his slave, you still may not interfere. As he pointed out, the penalty is death."
I swallowed, staring into the icily calm set of Prince Alar's fine-cut features. Would he simply let me be killed, after all the trouble he'd gone to in order to acquire me?
"Three." At last, the prince turned to Lord Catarain. Suddenly, he exuded menace. He spoke softly, but it was more frightening than if he had shouted. "Just as my slave may not touch you, you may not touch my slave without my permission. He is mine and mine alone."
The lord scowled. "Alar, you cannot mean to let a slave defy a lord and get away without punishment. I may exact some penalty, surely. That is my right. It is the law of the realm-- prince."
Despite my fear for my life, I watched this exchange in fascination. Who was this Lord Catarain, who could argue with the prince and address him by his name alone? I sensed the weight of a great deal of past history between them.
"Indeed. Nor did I intend to deny permission for you to punish the defiant slave." Prince Alar shrugged, as if unconcerned. "What penalty do you wish? I will not allow you to destroy my property, nor inflict permanent damage. Beyond that..." He shrugged again.
Lord Catarain looked me over closely. His piercing eyes seemed to see into my very soul. I gritted my teeth and stared back at him, refusing to drop my gaze from fright. But when his inspection swept low, to my exposed cock, I couldn't help but blush.
His lips curved in a cruel smile. "As you pointed out, Alar, your peasant slave is unfamiliar with the refined delights of pain and pleasure mingled. Allow me to teach him. I would like to whip him while my slave Hallvard sucks his cock. We can all watch, and enjoy placing bets on when and if Hallvard can make him come."
I shuddered, and Lord Catarain very nearly glowed with pleasure. He had indeed hit upon my weaknesses. I feared the whip, but I feared being shamed more. This punishment sounded shameful beyond anything I had experienced before.
Hallvard looked indignant. "I could make a rock come. My lord, please bet on me."
Lord Catarain toyed with one of his slave's yellow braids. "Of course. I have faith in you and your skillful tongue."
Prince Alar shared his disdainful stare equally between the lord and his slave. "My bet is that my slave will not come. Garin spends only at my command."
The full brunt of the prince's dark gaze struck me like a blow. "Garin, I do not give you permission to come. Do not."
What decadent hell had I been taken to, and what deadly power struggle had I clumsily shouldered my way into?
"Yes, your highness," I replied, my voice shaking.
I set my teeth, preparing to endure. I could not imagine that it would be difficult not to spend while I was being whipped at the same time, no matter what was going on below my waist. Pain was pain, and pleasure was pleasure. The two did not mix well, or at all, in my experience.
The entire room full of people gathered to watch as two hefty servants came in, carrying a strange apparatus. It was a steel frame shaped like a rectangle standing on end. Steel plates were set into the stone floor, and the servants easily bolted the frame into it.
I realized that this, or something like this, was a sufficiently common punishment... or entertainment... that the very room had been built with it in mind. I shuddered.
The servants thrust my legs apart and raised my arms, then locked steel cuffs around my wrists and ankles. I stood spread-eagled, naked, unable to move, burning with fear and humiliation... and resolve. There was no doubt in my mind that the arrogant prince had saved my life. I was determined to obey his order and defy the cruel Lord Catarain.
"No more than ten lashes, Catarain," warned Prince Alar. "And none deep enough to scar. I wager a purse of gold on my slave's endurance."
"Done!" Catarain yanked at his Viking slave's braids, jerking the young man's head brutally back. "Hallvard, do not let me down."
"No, my lord," replied the slave.
He knelt before me, so close that I could feel his warm breath stirring the hair at my groin. A small tickle of desire ran through me. But, to my relief, it was not enough to produce any visible sign.
Lord Catarain stepped behind me. Prince Alar stayed within my line of sight, arms folded, eyes like black ice.
The slave leaned forward and delicately licked around the head of my limp cock. The touch of his tongue was hot and wet, like nothing I had ever felt before. I sucked in my breath and tried to turn my attention elsewhere.
Crack! The whip came down on my back like a stroke of fire. I clenched my teeth, hissing in pain, my brief moment of arousal forgotten. A trickle of blood began to snake down along my back. It itched.
Hallvard opened his mouth wider, sucking in more of my cock. His tongue lapped and played along the sensitive underside. I did not want to respond, but my body had other ideas. My balls tingled, and I began to grow hard in his mouth.
The slave sucked, and I couldn't hold back a groan. The whip came down, harder this time, and I jumped. Immediately, Hallvard sucked harder at my cock.
I knew now that he could see Lord Catarain, as I could not, and that the two of them were working in tandem. When the whip came down, Hallvard would suck harder, and when I became more aroused, the whip would strike.
Fear and desire thrilled through my body and soul, mingling into an intoxicating brew. I waited for the whip like I waited for the hot suction of Hallvard's mouth.
Hot pain burst along my back, but at the same moment, Hallvard swallowed my cock down. I gasped in hurt and desire, and involuntarily thrust into his throat. He took it easily, looking past me and toward his master.
I saw my cock buried up to the root in another man's mouth, and watched it slowly slide out from between his swollen lips, glistening with his saliva. His throat bobbed, and I felt the pulse against the tip of my cock. Overcome with lust, I thrust hard into Hallvard's mouth.
"Garin," came the prince's warning tones. "You have seven lashes to go."
I jerked my gaze away from Hallvard's swollen lips, and up to the prince. He gave me a small, warning shake of his head.
Hallvard swirled his tongue around my cock, making me groan. I knew what was coming next. Sure enough, another lash came down. This time it overlapped with a previous stroke, which made it especially painful.
But Hallvard slowly pulled back, letting my cock slide along the tight, slick flesh of his throat, so he could work his tongue against the exquisitely sensitive head.
It was killing me not to thrust into his mouth. I was so hard, I felt as if I would explode. Even the pain of the lashes had ceased to be unpleasant, exactly. They were another sensation, an intense one whose sharp contrast only enhanced my pleasure.
As the next lash came down, I couldn't help thrusting once into Hallvard's mouth. Then again. And again. It was like a force had possessed my body, and I couldn't stop myself. I had to seek my release.
I imagined myself spilling my seed into the Viking's mouth, and imagined his throat contracting around my softening cock as he swallowed. I thrust again. My climax was building within me, impossible to resist.
Then I remembered the wager. I forced myself to meet Prince Alar's eyes. His mouth was pressed tight, his lips white with... anger? Tension? Anxiety?
Whether from pride or some other reason, he seemed to truly care whether or not I held out. I couldn't let him down.
I bit down hard on my lower lip, causing myself a pain that had nothing to do with pleasure. The lash came down again, and Hallvard sucked and lapped away, but I focus
ed on my teeth coming closer together, biting through my lip, until that pain was all that existed-- the pain, and my resolve.
"Ten lashes," came a husky voice. "I have won, Catarain. Please return my slave to me."
There was a burst of applause, and an angry snarl from behind me.
My head felt heavy; my eyes had fallen closed. My back throbbed with pain, and I could feel warm liquid dripping down. My teeth had met through my lip, and my mouth was full of blood. I spat on the floor, not caring if that was forbidden.
"Open your eyes, Garin."
I forced my eyes open. Prince Alar stood before me, and servants were unbuckling the steel cuffs around my ankles.
When they removed the cuffs on my wrists, I nearly pitched forward into the prince's arms. He caught me by the shoulder and steadied me. Dizzy and reeling, I stood leaning against the prince's side, trusting that he would hold me upright. If he stepped aside, I would fall.
"I think you have scarred him after all, Catarain," said the prince, frowning. "A purse of gold for the wager, and another in recompense."
"What do you need with my gold?" asked Lord Catarain angrily. "You have the whole treasury."
"I do. But you don't." With a smile that bared his teeth, the prince held out his right hand. His left was still bracing my shoulder.
With poor grace, the lord slapped two fat purses into his hand. Prince Alar hung them at his belt.
Lord Catarain backhanded Hallvard across the face. "Incompetent fool!"
The lord stalked out of the room, with Hallvard following him.
Prince Alar snapped his fingers. "Have healing supplies sent to my antechamber."
The black-haired woman raised an eyebrow. "Alar, are you not contented to be the crown prince? Do you aspire to replace our royal physician?"
Several other ladies sent up a chorus of chiming laughter.
Prince Alar did not seem amused. "Yes, it is curious that I might not trust my slave to the gentle graces of the physician who spends her spare time inventing clever new methods of torture."
The pressure of his hand against my shoulder slackened. I felt a little less dizzy by then, so I moved away, swaying but standing on my own two feet.
The prince gave me a brief, approving nod. "Come, slave."
He turned on his heel and walked out. I stumbled after him, hoping his antechamber was not too far. Whatever an antechamber was.
It took all my concentration not to collapse. I was barely aware of the twists and turns of corridor after corridor, until I almost walked into the prince. He had stopped at a door, which he unlocked with a golden key.
I stumbled inside after him, getting only a vague sense of rich tapestries and lush furnishings.
"Lie down here." The prince indicated a couch covered with a white fox fur throw.
There was nothing I wanted more than to lie down, but I hesitated. The fur alone was probably worth more than my entire village. "I'll get blood all over it."
"I'll pay for a new one with Catarain's gold."
The prince put his hand in the small of my back, where the whip had not touched, and gave me a shove. I pitched down on the couch, face forward.
The fur was very soft, and the room was warm from a fire that burned brightly in the hearth. My back stung and burned, my lip throbbed, and my balls ached. I was still rock-hard from Hallvard's mouth, making lying on my stomach uncomfortable. But I wasn't going to complain about that to the prince.
I lay with my eyes closed, listening to soft clatters and water splashing. He had mentioned not trusting the royal physician, so I presumed he would send for a servant.
I was beginning to doze off when a warm, wet cloth came down on my back. I twisted my head around and looked, astonished, into the midnight eyes of the prince. He had stripped off his doublet and shirt and cloak, and stood naked to the waist, holding a washcloth.
"But... your highness... I thought..."
"I am amazed that you can think anything at all, in your condition," remarked the prince.
"Isn't this beneath you?" I blurted out.
Prince Alar began sponging the blood from my back. His hands were surprisingly gentle. "As you may have noticed, the palace is a hotbed of vicious intrigue. There are many who would delight in spoiling my pleasure in my newly acquired slave, whether by ensuring that he heals with ugly scars, or by using poison rather than ointment."
He dropped the reddened cloth into a basin, then dipped a clean one into an ewer. The scent of herbs rose up.
"Be careful what you eat and drink here," he advised. "I have enemies too cowardly to strike directly against my person."
Then you shouldn't keep slaves, I thought. But I knew better than to say so. The prince, at least, clearly wanted to keep me alive. That was probably more than I could say for anyone else I'd met at the palace.
The herb infusion soothed the pain, as did the gentle touch of his hands. I felt as if I was in a dream. I, a peasant and a slave, was being attended by the crown prince himself!
"Sit up."
I hauled myself up. He dipped a cloth in a goblet and cleaned my lip. The liquid stung, and the alcohol fumes were dizzying.
"Drink." He handed me the goblet.
I swallowed the contents down in a gulp. The fiery alcohol stung the wound on the inside of my mouth and burned a path down my throat. It was apple brandy, but smooth and spicy, not the stuff they brewed in the village that could strip paint off a door. It warmed my belly like a heated stone.
Prince Alar patted my back dry, then wrapped bandages around my back and chest. His hands were as deft as if he had performed such tasks before, though I could not imagine why a prince would have done so.
He was still half-naked, his chest spattered here and there with blood. I could not take my eyes off the startling pallor of his skin, more like white marble than warm human flesh. The spots of blood were shockingly bright in contrast.
His nipples were small and pink, his muscles finely etched. He did not have the heavy build of a farmer, but the deceptive leanness of the tumblers I had seen at the marketplace. He had little body hair, except for a smooth trail of black leading down into his breeches.
I knew what was beneath those breeches. In a sudden, unexpected wash of desire, I longed for it. I should have been repulsed by the thought of sex, after everything that had been done to me today. But I was still hard as a rock.
He stepped back, examining his finished handiwork.
I felt much better, now that he had tended my wounds. And perhaps the brandy made me reckless.
"Thank you, your highness," I said. "Would you like me to suck your cock?"
The prince's eyebrows shot up. He stared at me so incredulously that I felt bound to explain.
"I am your slave, after all. I assumed that was why you brought me here." I cannot blame the brandy for what I said next. I have always been reckless. "Or, if you prefer, you could suck mine. I'd come for you."
The prince's white hand flashed out, fast as a striking snake. He caught me across the cheek with an open-handed slap, hard enough to make my neck snap back.
"Do not presume." The snake was in his voice as well. "You are not my equal. You are not my lover. You are my slave, and nothing more!"
I was not so tipsy that I didn't hear the danger in his voice. I lowered my head. "I beg your pardon, your highness."
Prince Alar was not satisfied. My words seemed to have lit some dark fire within him. He slapped me again. "Beg, then. Beg properly."
I slid off the couch and went down on my knees. "I beg your forgiveness. I beg your mercy."
"I'll show you mercy," he hissed.
The prince pounced on me like a cat on a mouse. I was forced face-down into the carpet with my bare ass in the air.
"Don't move," he ordered.
I stayed where I was. My head was twisted to the side, so I could watch him as he stalked off, then returned with a bottle. Opening it, he poured some of the liquid within directly on to my asshole. I r
ecognized the heavy scent of coconut oil.
My breath caught at the thought of what the prince was going to do to me. In Madriguera, they said that for man to lie with man was an abomination and a sin. In particular, for a man to "take the woman's place," that is, to take it up the ass, was shameful beyond all else.
In my village, women were considered weaker than men. But here in Veleia, I had seen female soldiers and guards. Even in Madriguera, women could own land and businesses. Women could inherit titles. They could even inherit the throne. Was it so shameful, to take the woman's place?
The prince thrust a slippery finger into my asshole. I sucked in such a huge gasp of air that I nearly choked.
I didn't care any more about the place of women and men. I didn't care about shame, and I didn't care about sin. I wanted his cock up my ass-- wanted it so badly that I wondered if I would come just from his finger and the thought of it.
"That feels good," I gasped out.
Prince Alar froze. Then he slowly leaned down, until his mouth was at my ear and his silken hair fell across my shoulder.
"I am not doing it so you feel good, slave," he hissed. "I do not care about your coarse, shameful pleasure. This is merely to ease my passage, for my pleasure."
His breath was warm on my ear. It occurred to me that, for a man who did not care about my comfort, he was being very careful not to touch my back.
"Yes, your highness," I said.
"And you may not come until I give you permission," he added. "As befits a slave."
"Yes, your highness," I repeated, though I doubted that I could obey. I had barely managed to hold out against Hallvard, and that had been while I was being beaten. And that had only been Hallvard. This was Prince Alar, who could set my blood on fire with a mere glance of his midnight eyes.
The prince poured out more oil and worked it inside me. He used two fingers this time, stretching me from the inside. My body wanted to tense, but I made myself relax.
However much the prince claimed not to care about my pleasure-- and why should he care about a slave?-- he worked slowly, as if he was massaging me, though I noted he took care to avoid that sensitive inner organ which the herald had rubbed to send me into a frenzy. There was no true pain, though there was an ache as if long-unused muscles were being stretched.
Bound and Bent: Ten Tales of Serving Him Page 12
