Author’s Note:
This is an unedited, ongoing serial that may eventually be published in novel form. Plot/characters/elements are subject to change as it is being written. Read at your own discretion and take note of story tags below.
Genre: Historical Fantasy
Tags: general abuse, sex acts, age gap, bisexual, master/servant, angst, archaic terminology/style
It had been over a week since my return and still I had not called Taden to my side. I had seen little of the man, busy as I was finding ways to shirk my newfound duties, and that suited me just fine.
You’re still a child. His words were like beetles under my skin. The brass of it.
“Milord?”
I broke from my reverie and looked down at the young court musician kneeling before me in the empty minstrel’s gallery. “Yes? What is it?” I snapped.
“Do my methods not… please you, milord?”
I realized that my manhood had entirely lost its spine in my distraction and now drooped like a lifeless brown serpent in the harpist’s hand. To hide my embarrassment, I curled my lip and cuffed the young man on the ear.
“Your methods are boring me,” I told him as he ducked his head, his cheeks pink with chagrin. He looked like he was going to cry at any moment, and I felt bad for mistreating him so; I’m not normally prone to violence and the fact that I’d employed it to cover my own failings shamed me. “Use your mouth instead,” I suggested gently.
“Yes, milord,” he replied and eagerly took me into his warm, wet mouth. Almost instantly, I was revived, and I sighed, kindly stroking back his bright blond curls.
“Much better.”
The harpist mumbled something that sounded like, “thank you, milord,” around the growing burden in his mouth, and I leaned an elbow against the balustrade overlooking the Great Hall.
Despite the young man’s somewhat clumsy work—a flute player would have been more suitable—I felt myself swiftly rising towards the pinnacle.
“You will swallow,” I told him, my breathing uneven. He nodded, eyes beginning to brim in his efforts to accommodate me.
At that moment I heard voices below and looked down to see Taden briskly enter the Great Hall with a messenger at his side. The two of them stopped at the empty dais and from Taden’s terse gestures, I gathered he was annoyed at my absence, bidding the messenger to remain while he hunted for his errant lord.
The harpist was clearly tiring and growing careless with his teeth which, coupled with my preoccupation, had delayed the moment such that it timed nearly perfectly with Taden’s sudden about-face. Eyes on Taden’s stormy visage, I gasped, holding onto the young musician’s head as I prepared to empty myself into his mouth; the sound either carried or Taden became aware of my gaze because he chose then to raise his eyes to the gallery.
I let out a rasping cry as I peaked, helplessly staring into Taden’s shocked eyes as my seed burst the dam, choking the unfortunate harpist servicing me. It was over in seconds, Taden still as a statue for the length of my performance, and when I was done… I fled.
+++
I was sitting in my chambers, mere minutes later, when the knock came. Still winded from my exertions, my voice failed me on the first attempt to call out, so I cleared my throat and tried again.
“Come.”
Pen held in one hand, I made as if to pore over the document open on my écritoire, but my mind was not yet done revisiting those final, quivering moments, the intensity of which I’d never felt the like... though I could not credit the harpist’s meagre skills. I thought of Taden’s burning gaze and felt my cheeks warm.
The subject of my thoughts came to a stop in the middle of my room, his eyes on the toes of his boots.
“A messenger has arrived with news from the Autumn Lands, my lord,” Taden said as if he hadn’t just witnessed me making thorough use of the young court musician.
“And what is the message?” I asked, needlessly darkening the dots above a letter on the parchment. Ink dripped from my hastily dipped pen, obscuring something that I hoped was unimportant.
“I do not know, my lord. The message is for your ears.”
Annoyed, I looked over at Taden and saw that he had lifted his eyes to me. I read disapproval in his expression and that rankled me further. “Can’t you see I’m otherwise occupied?” I said, my tone high and peevish.
“Your father was customarily in the Great Hall at this time of day,” Taden said, lowering his eyes. His jaw muscles rippled; he was restraining himself.
“I am not my father,” I replied curtly, setting my pen down and marring more of the trade document.
“No, you are most definitely not your father.”
The chair fell back as I shoved myself to my feet, face hot with equal parts anger and humiliation over the obvious censure in his reply. I faced Taden, fists at my side.
“You speak to your lord this way?” I asked, measuring out each word so that it carried the full weight of my contempt. “I ought to have you whipped for your insolence.”
To this, Taden raised his head and fixed me with his fathomless black eyes. I steeled myself for anger… but all I saw was disappointment in his steady gaze. I stood pat, trying not to wither under his scrutiny, but I had to turn away, lest he see the results of his displeasure; I was on the verge of tears.
After a moment, Taden spoke again. “You could be like him, easily, if you made the least effort,” he said, his voice softly intimate. “Wulfie, you’re better than this.”
By “this” I assumed he meant both my truancy and penchant for indiscreet acts of lust.
I could have relented, just then. I could have drummed up enough humility to acknowledge my defects, but his condescension just fed the demon on my shoulder.
"Tell the messenger I shall be there presently to receive this... mysterious message."
"Yes, my lord."
“And then you will order the hangman to administer ten lashes for your impertinence,” I said, making my words cold as I faced the window, seeing nothing beyond. “It will take place in the courtyard at a quarter hour before the even’bell.” At that time, there would be plenty to see him take his punishment. Ten lashes would do little to harm the man; my desire was for the humiliation to sting harder than the whip.
“Yes, my lord,” Taden replied, all vitality stripped from his voice. “As you wish.”
It was only when he had left to order his own flogging that I dared turn back to the room. My eyes burned and my stomach felt like it held hot vinegar.
Who is he to say I am less than my father?
I knew the answer, of course: a man who gave the best years of his life to serving at my father’s side. My own mother couldn’t hope to have known my father better than Taden.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. Am I such a disappointment? Unfortunately, I knew the answer to this one as well.
