[Click image to enlarge.]
One would have thought that Don Rodrigo, second of two sons of the late King, would have been content with his sprawling duchy and the rich revenues it produced. And, in a way, he was. It wasn’t the money; he had always had plenty of that and the things money could buy. High social status was, of course, taken for granted. Nor was it lack of sexual thrills. He had married young to a sweet, if eager, princess and, himself possessed of dazzling dusky good looks, had produced the requisite heir and spare to his sprawling estates. But that was as far as it went and, perhaps, went more than a little way toward explaining subsequent events.
At first Rodrigo contented himself with identifying and ‘hunting’ strapping peasant lads, young fathers, the occasional half-naked convict; employing a variety of means- usually some form of black mail made easy by the naked power his position afforded- but sometimes threats to a loved one, threats of foreclosure, or, if he was feeling generous and more than a bit lucky, even bribery. Once the handsome young victim was obtained, the Duke would toy with him for a while (sometimes a VERY long while) much as a cruel cat would with a mouse. Forced to slowly strip until completely naked, the trembling young male, whether in a public place, before weeping and scandalized family and friends, or simply for the Duke’s solitary pleasure, would be made to suffer odd and diverse tests of endurance and humiliations of ascending intensity until, finally- the helpless object of the Duke’s keen interest, drenched with hot sweat and, as often as not, manly tears streaming from eyes with the light of hope long extinguished, waited, with mounting horror for the end-game to commence. It was then that the ravenous (and very creative) Lord would gratify himself sexually, stealing his victim’s groaning manhood as casually as a child pocketing a surreptitious sweet from the market.
The unfortunate congruence of the mighty storm with the new king’s ship was no fiction. Don Rodrigo’s older brother Matteo had, naturally, inherited their father’s throne. A just ruler, and uncommonly handsome, King Matteo also possessed an easy, muscular masculinity that boded equally well at the royal court or on a battlefield. Apparently, swept overboard by a massive swell of frenzied water; the young king’s body was never found or recovered, and his stricken kingdom endured a period of deepest mourning.
King Rodrigo sat a lavishly carved throne in an unusual place; secure in a private dungeon accessed by a warren of secret, semi-secret, and public passageways deep beneath the royal palace. At the king’s crisp command, trusted minions escorted a muscular young prisoner, despondent and humiliated both by enforced passivity and complete nudity, to stand before his Lord. ‘Oh, my brother! By now I imagine that you would have preferred to have been washed overboard and drowned…but that was never part of the plan.’ He paused, as if in profound thought. ‘You know, I began to lust for you as early as our teen years, but you never noticed, did you?’ The naked prisoner merely bowed his head and sighed. ‘So,’ Rodrigo continued, ‘what sort of games shall we play today?’
“Unfortunately, ‘dress-up’ is not among the options,” he adds with a laugh as Matteo grits his teeth and quite literally bites his tongue to avoid lashing out in his rage and em-bare-ass(and dick)-ment, his arms remaining at his sides clenched but unmoving, their veins swelling with rage. “No, whatever games we play will, alas, require your continued, sustained full-body nakedness in front of me and my smirking servants. Your penis and testicles and that oh-so-well-formed boxy butt will sadly have to remain on full nude display for the duration. All because I can … make it so, hahahahaha!!!! Servant, give him just one absolutely savage lash with the whip around his waist so that it creates an utterly delicious sound against his ass flesh and the tip ever so slightly but exceedingly painfully kisses his genitals in front of me. I would like to see copious tears of pain paired with that look of complete impotent fury on his face, as well as some teeth from a major grimace. Let’s find out whether he can keep from saying something that will mandate an additional 20 lashes so we can watch him lose all dignity screaming and bucking obscenely, his bare, rudely exposed sausage and buns wiggling madly.”
This extremely successful continuation of the story lets the nature of the greasy Princen 👑 emerge even more clearly, and one recognizes what he really is: a wimp. An effeminate loudmouth, unable to wield the whip by himself. The prince does not let others do the beating, because his blue blood forbids doing it himself, but because he is incapable of doing it. Very well written.
Oh man, Joe!!! This is a STORY…and you made my day. Bring all of it on (and many thanks)!
“Naturally, Matteo, I would like to say that we have to do this for your own good, to teach you the value of submission, obedience, self-control, blah blah blah. And I freely acknowledge that it may have those … ancillary benefits. But it would also be, well, largely false. Whatever benefits accrue to watching you dance naked in pain and (more importantly) profound humiliation, the primary value of treating you this way is, well, candidly, that I FUCKING ENJOY THE LIVING FUCK OUT OF IT, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! In fact, I’m going to have one of my servants firmly hold your head in place so that you have no choice but to be making eye contact with me when the whip lands its intimate blow and your face reddens with a hopeless attempt to hold back tears and to keep me from seeing your quivering lower lip. I just INSIST that you see my smile of delight as my eyes roam down your naked form to your sex organs and back up to your eyes. Naturally, I’ll instruct the servant wielding the lash to be careful not to nick his fellow servant in the process. I’d hate for him to suffer.”
“In fact, I will have to treat it the same as an angry curse from your mouth if I detect you trying to close your eyes when the lash lands. That is to say, it will simply FORCE me to impose the additional 20 lashes in rapid, unbearable succession.”
Abuse of power by sadistic royal sons 🤴 is a popular subject in this genre. Not only does it allow colorfully decorating of the historical background, we all seem to have a soft spot for aristocratic stories. In the 279th part of the series, too, Amalaric succeeds in depicting the local atmosphere very well 👍, but what the story lacks is suspense, if not a little action. The prince’s views and feelings seem a bit far-fetched, and only get stuck in his own fantasies 💭 and declarations of intent. As nicely as the illustration and text fit together again this time, tightening the thumbscrews a little would have done the plot good. In this case it is worth comparing it with the “Shame” story by JOTTO.