The Blue Prince

“I agree to your trial, your Majesty. I hope I won’t disappoint you.”

“Excellent. Please follow me.”

Gerulf followed the Prince across the broad corridor, obediently opening the door there when the Prince paused outside it. The bedroom they entered then was as lavish as the parlour, if not more so. It was dominated by an oversized four poster bed, hung with blue velvet drapes. The bedclothes and thick rug were an intricate pattern in blue and ivory, the furniture delicately tooled mahogany. A fire blazed in the grate and oil lamps were lit on hooks to either side of the bed, encased in shades of blue stained glass. The blue sealing wax was starting to fit into context; the Prince evidently liked to be surrounded with the colour.

The young man stood at the foot of the bed and waved Gerulf to stand in front of him.

“Undress please. Put your clothes on the chair.”

Gerulf removed his jacket and hung it on the back of the wing chair to his right. His shirt followed it, and then he bent to untie his boots. As he was doing so he could feel the Prince’s gaze on his shoulders as he moved, and when he pulled the boots and socks off and rose, a glance at the Prince’s face showed him a quickly concealed glint of heat in the cool eyes.

He could sense the effort it was costing the Prince to keep that heat disguised as he unfastened his trousers, pushed them and his drawers down, and stepped out of them. He was already half hard, and as he rose to his feet after picking up his discarded clothing, the Prince’s eyes were fixed on his member.

“I wasn’t just boasting your Majesty.” It had felt necessary to say it, and the Prince tore his eyes away and nodded calmly at him.

“As I’d hope,” he replied, and walked around the bed to climb onto it, kneeling comfortably on the thick, quilted eiderdown, waving Gerulf to stand in front of him. Gerulf approached the side of the bed and, when no further instructions came, settled into a parade rest stance, his thighs almost brushing the edge of the mattress. The Prince reached out with one slim-fingered hand and carefully touched the tip of his penis, then ran his cool palm down the shaft, nodding quietly to himself as he felt it swell. His other hand lifted and cupped Gerulf’s testicles, making him flinch a little. Another nod and he withdrew his hands, laying them demurely in his lap.

“Put your hand around it.”

Gerulf complied. The Prince stared contemplatively for a moment, cocked his head to one side, then nodded again and slid elegantly across the bed to open a drawer in the cabinet next to it. Gerulf felt rather foolish, standing there holding himself. He turned to look at the drawer before it was closed and got a brief glimpse of a few small bottles, some pieces of fabric and a small cylinder made out of some kind of blue material. In the Prince’s hands were a round, flat jar and a strip of blue silk ribbon. He set them down on the bed and then untied his robe and removed it. Underneath he wore nothing but his smooth, pale skin. He was aroused, his penis slender and nearly straight, his pink nipples attractively perked up. The robe was handed to Gerulf, and he turned away to hang it on the small rack of hooks behind the door then returned to his spot at the side of the bed.

“There are rules you must follow, Gerulf,” the Prince said, his voice still cool and even.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Firstly, know that I expect you to penetrate me. I want to make that perfectly clear.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Secondly, you will not speak while we are engaged in sexual activity, unless I am instructing you and you wish to clarify something or ask a question.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Thirdly, you will not ejaculate inside me. You may find release while we are engaged if you wish, but know that I do not require it.”

Seriously? “Yes, your Majesty.”

The Prince picked up the blue ribbon and smoothed it out between his hands, then laid it across his own thigh. Reaching out, he put his hand around Gerulf’s member once again, gently rolling the foreskin back and forth with his fingertips for a few moments, before placing his thumb across the head and wrapping his fingers around it as tightly as he could. Gerulf found himself struggling to stand still.

Using his grip as measurement, the Prince lifted the ribbon and tied it precisely the width of his own fingers from the tip of Gerulf’s penis, wrapping it around twice before finishing it with a simple bow. The band was snug enough that it wouldn’t move easily, but not so tight it would cut into his skin.

“Lastly, you will penetrate me no more deeply than this. Do you understand?”

Was he serious? Was this some kind of stupid test? What was the point looking for big lovers, making sure he was well endowed, if he didn’t want it all?

“Do you understand?” the Prince asked archly.

Hell. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“I realise it may seem odd, but…” he reached out again, almost dreamily, and placed his fingers around Gerulf again, just above the ribbon. Squeezed, just a little. “I have always found the pleasure of sex in…being stretched. Being penetrated too deeply, it is pointless. Unnecessary.”

Sounds like you’ve never tried it, thought Gerulf.

“I understand, your Majesty,” he said.

The Prince nodded, then reached for the jar, unscrewing the lid and scooping out some of the grease inside. Deftly replacing the lid without smearing it, he then reached out to apply the grease to Gerulf’s penis, spreading it only from the tip down to the ribbon and no further. Gerulf had to bite his tongue to stay still, clenching his fists behind his back.

The Prince sat back on his heels and looked Gerulf up and down again, then, without a word or sound, turned to face the foot of the bed and bent forward, leaning on his forearms, backside in the air. Resting his cheek on his arms, he looked towards Gerulf.

“Do your duty,” he said simply, then turned his face so his forehead was pressed into the flesh of his forearms.

Gerulf nodded, even though he knew the Prince couldn’t see him, and climbed onto the bed. The frame creaked a little as he moved, kneeling up behind the Prince and placing his hands on the younger man’s hips. His skin was a little on the cool side, despite the blazing fire. His anus was a tender little pink ring, shiny with oil; Gerulf touched one fingertip to it and felt it had been loosened. Slid the finger in easily, then two, then three. All were taken smoothly, one after another. The Prince must have gone to prepare himself when he changed into the robe, that or he’d been playing with himself before Gerulf got there. Either thought was quite warming.

Pressing his fingers in deeper, he felt the solid, slightly prominent bump of the pleasure gland inside that slippery channel, and pressed it gently between the pads of his fingers. The Prince flinched, and Gerulf could almost feel his scowl.

“Will you stop messing about!” he snapped, his voice a little breathy. “You know what to do, do it.”

“Yes your Majesty,” Gerulf responded with great cheer, and he lined up and pushed in. Despite the coolness of the Prince’s skin, his insides were hot as a furnace, and despite his preparations, he was tight. Gerulf’s first thrust had been necessarily shallow but it made the Prince gasp, then heave for air. He withdrew a little then thrust back in deeper, then again, and then…

The Goddamned ribbon! The blue silk was just touching the entrance to the Prince’s body, marking the cruel boundary of Gerulf’s own pleasure. Gritting his teeth, he began to pump shallowly, clenching the muscles of his back, exercising every scrap of his control to stop himself from pushing deeper.

The Prince seemed to be enjoying himself, though it took Gerulf some time to notice and he was by no means unobservant. The young man’s breath was fast and shivery, the slim muscles of his back were tensing and flexing as Gerulf thrust into him. His own hands were sweating where they held the Prince’s hips, making the cool flesh feel clammy. He changed the angle of his thrust a little, and the Prince actually made a sound. Not much of a one, but it was promising, and Gerulf listened keenly for another, anything to take his mind off the fact that he desperately wanted to just fuck!

It was entirely possible that the Prince’s interest in sex was less being penetrated, and more knowing that his partner was frustrated and holding back. Gerulf had known people like that before, but he’d never made a habit of sleeping with them. This was the worst kind of tease; hot, clenching flesh, welcoming his own member wanting him, and he could only go in less than half of his length. He tipped his head back, looking up at the curves of plaster on the ceiling. Didn’t help. He looked down, at the oblivious, gasping, pretty young man and his own sliding, aching flesh. Didn’t help. And then he noticed something.

The grease had become more liquid as he worked, and it was starting to soak into the fabric of the ribbon. Gerulf took one hand off the Prince’s hip; the Prince didn’t notice. Gerulf thought that he wouldn’t notice much of anything, as long as his asshole was nicely full. Touching gently, so as not to tease his poor fellow any more than was necessary, he got his thumbnail under the edge of the fabric, and tugged.

It slid.

Almost in the same moment, the Prince seemed to snap to the realisation that Gerulf had slowed his movements, and barked out “Harder!”

“Yes your Majesty,” Gerulf replied through a broad smile, and pushed back in, hard. As far as the ribbon.

The Prince’s slim body seized. “What are you doing!? Aah!”

The flesh now enclosing the tip of Gerulf’s penis was near crushingly tight. Was he a virgin this deep?

“Get…get back! You…you-”

Gerulf glanced down and checked; “The little ribbon is still outside your body, your Majesty,” he said pleasantly.

“You moved it! You- ah!”

Gerulf grinned, pumped again. “If you aren’t enjoying it your Majesty, just tell me and I’ll pull it out.”

“Nnnn…ahh!”

He pressed in deeper, just a little way, and the Prince’s hips bucked back against him. Just as he’d thought; never tried it, never knew he liked it.
The jar of grease was still on the bed, and Gerulf reached back and scooped some out, withdrew a little way, and smeared it on. A quick tug to the end of the ribbon and the knot came undone, and he draped the little strip of fabric on the quilt, close enough to the Prince’s face that he knew he’d be able to see it.

“Well your Majesty? Say the word and I’ll put it back on.”

The Prince’s body tensed, absolutely frozen. Gerulf held onto him lightly, keeping him grounded but not keeping him still. A big decision, this.

The Prince breathed deeply, the sound full of spite and arousal.

The Prince hissed through his teeth, and Gerulf knew that he was certainly in trouble.

The Prince shifted, moved to take his weight off one arm, then swept that arm out to fling the ribbon away from him. It fluttered away out of sight, off the edge of the bed.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Gerulf said softly, and began anew, with one long thrust, penetrating as deeply as he was able, making the Prince yell.

He rocked back, pulling out and surging back in smoothly, going deeper, and the Prince was becoming crazed underneath him, twisting into his thrusts, keening and gasping.

Gerulf was nearly fully sheathed in the Prince’s body by now, the younger man’s body clutching at him, and he thrust shallowly, sliding one hand around the Prince’s waist, planting the other on the bed to support his weight as he leaned forward. Curled over the Prince’s back, buried deep, he became aware that the other body was shaking, quivering with reaction. The sharp featured face was pressed into the quilt in order to muffle his moans. Gerulf felt himself smile, meanly. Craning his head forwards to place his mouth near the Prince’s small ear, he whispered;

“Your Majesty?”

“Nnn…Ah!...don’t…”

“I won’t stop, your Majesty. But tell me; you seem shaken. Have I taken the last of your innocence? Was that were it remained, this deep?”

At that, the Prince wailed out loud, thrusting his whole body back against Gerulf’s, forcing himself back onto him as hard as he could under the much larger man’s weight. Gerulf began pulling out further with each stroke, forcing himself back in, deep and hard. He reached to grasp the Prince’s smooth penis, stroked it from base to tip, once, twice, and then-

“Aah! No!”

The Prince came, his body shaking and spasming almost out of control. His body clenched, near painfully, around Gerulf, and he felt his own completion gathering inside him. Gritting his teeth, desperate to end this properly, he heaved back, dragging his throbbing member out of the Prince’s body, and pressed the length of it against the sweat-slicked cleft of his buttocks, ground against him as hard as he could, as hard as he could bear, and came, groaning, his seed splattering the pale back underneath him.

He was panting, his muscles felt like warm liquid. It was all he could do to shift his weight back onto his knees and allow the Prince some space to move. The Prince himself was trembling still, shifting awkwardly and sliding on the sheets as he tried to right himself. Taking pity, Gerulf reached forward and slid his hands under the young man’s arms, lifting him a little until he could settle him on his knees.

Almost immediately, the Prince reeled around, a snarl on his pretty face.

“Do you realise what you did!?” he barked out, his voice hoarse from yelling.

“I broke your rules, your Majesty,” Gerulf replied quietly, carefully keeping his face impassive. The Prince’s scowl deepened. “All but one,” he added. “I didn’t spend my seed inside you. Did you notice?”

“You…you…” he twisted suddenly, clearly aiming for the edge of the bed, but his backside hit the mattress and he let out a sharp yelp of pain. Gerulf yanked him back and held him steady while he got his knees back under him, the Prince hissing fractured profanities in his direction all the time.

“Your hole hurts, your Majesty,” he said simply, not able to resist. “You may wish to stay on your knees.”

The snarl returned. “Get my robe, Gerulf,” the Prince snapped, and Gerulf rose, a little stiffly, from the bed and retrieved the decadent garment from the hook, turning to hand it back to the young man on the bed. He struggled into it, making little hisses of pain and irritation every time he discovered another sore muscle, then straightened up, as regal and dignified as he could be, kneeling on his bed, soaked with sweat and with his own and Gerulf’s semen.

Gerulf stood and waited to be told to leave the palace and never return. Shame about the job, but he hadn’t been counting on it, and at least he had the opportunity to fuck not only a royal, but the mysterious third Prince.

The Prince tore his angry eyes from Gerulf’s face to briefly run his gaze over his naked body, then stared, intently thoughtful, at the inside of the closed door. Gerulf stood quietly, at parade rest, feeling his own cooling sweat trickle down his back and chest. Finally-

“Armas!” Prince Mihai shouted, and Gerulf stepped quickly over to the chair and grabbed his clothes, so he could at least make a token attempt at not being naked before the servant arrived. Before he could get any further than putting one leg into his trousers though, the door opened and Armas strode in, keeping his eyes very definitely on the Prince and away from where Gerulf was dressing.

“Armas, I want you to fetch a contract. Immediately.”

He turned to Gerulf. “You will sign it tonight, yes?”

Gerulf felt his face go slack, truly surprised for once. “I…yes, your Majesty. If the terms are the same as the one I saw last night.”

The prince nodded and, with a careless waft of his hand, shooed a pale and worried looking Armas from the room.

He turned his stern face to Gerulf, who was now buttoning his trousers.
“You are in my employ now, Gerulf,” he said, his voice severe. “Serve me well and you shall be well treated.”

“Yes your Majesty.”

The Prince rose, still stiff and wincing, from the bed, and Gerulf went to take his arm and balance him until he was steady on his no-doubt aching legs. The Prince waved him away with the same gesture that had gotten rid of Armas. He walked slowly and delicately to another small door in the corner of the room, which Gerulf assumed was a bathing room. Before entering the room, the Prince turned back to him, his face serious and not without an edge of worry.

“You have much to learn,” he said, and was gone.