Disciplinarian
 

Chapter 1

“We greatly appreciate your agreeing to see his Highness today, and on such short notice,” said a middle-aged servant in an extravagant uniform. The edges of his coat were lined with elaborate silver embroidery, and his waistcoat and knee breeches shown with the lustrous glow of finely spun silk. Unfortunately, the clothing was in much better shape than its owner. The servant's hair was prematurely grey and his eyes had that worn look that came with too much worry.

“It was no trouble, I assure you,” replied the man at his side. He was taller than the servant by a head and walked with a long, easy stride. His hair was jet black, and he looked not at all concerned with the fact he was under the King’s orders to fulfill a task that every man before him had failed. Five others in the past year in fact, which would make it a full half-dozen if he was also unsuccessful.

At the risk of overstepping his duties, the servant glanced at the tall, charismatic man and said in a low voice, “I must say that you seem quite… confident, Sir.” The black-haired gentleman gave him an enigmatic, lop-sided grin. “Is there a reason I should not be?”

The older man’s brows came together, deepening the wrinkles that were starting to form already from what must have been a habitual look of concern. “Well,” he replied hesitantly, “none have been able to succeed thus far, and his Majesty will be very… displeased if there is yet another failure.”

The other man smiled. “I will not fail.”

“Yes, Sir,” the servant replied, though his voice clearly remained skeptical.

The two men stopped as they reached a pair of large, ornate doors. They were twelve feet high from floor to ceiling, intricately carved, and gilded with gold leaf. It was the most ostentatious entranceway the dark-haired man had ever seen. Obviously the rumors of the King’s gaudy tastes in décor had not been overly exaggerated.

From behind the doors a low moan emanated and the servant shuffled uncomfortably. “You must understand, Sir Durand,” he said hesitantly, “the Prince is a very sensitive young man–”

Another throaty groan drifted through the doors and Durand smiled. “I bet he is.”

The servant turned red at the implication, but continued. “What I mean is, he has gone through a lot in his young life. He only acts out to protect himself and to try to get his father’s–I mean his Majesty’s–attention.”

“Yes, yes,” the other man said dismissively. “I’m sure he’s given you a hundred excuses and everyone has been quite civil with him, which is why he is walking all over you.”

“Sir! You forget your manners!”

With a grin, Durant turned to him. “Did I shock you with my bluntness? Forgive me, but I will not tiptoe around the issue or soften the truth. I was hired by the King to discipline the boy after all.”

“You were hired as Prince Lucien's tutor,” the servant corrected stuffily.

Durand had to hold back the urge to sigh impatiently at the man’s stubborn adherence to protocol and politeness. “Ansel,” he said, addressing the servant by name, “you can count on me to be discreet and to keep all matters concerning the Prince completely confidential. However, you cannot rely on me to sugar-coat the situation or pretend that things are any different than they are.” He gave the man a hard look. “From all I have been told about his Highness, the young man is completely out of control. Whatever title you choose to give to me, I know what my job is, and it is to rein in the son of a King because even the King himself cannot.”

A louder moan reached their ears and Ansel looked forlornly at the doors. Durand saw a resigned expression settle in the man’s eyes. “Yes, you’re right of course,” the servant finally admitted. “Well then, I leave our master in your hands,” he said, bowing low. With that he turned on his heel and left Durand before the doors. Apparently the servant was forgoing any attempts at a formal introduction. From the sounds emanating from inside the room, however, Durand could hardly blame him.

He understood better now why the Prince had gone through so many tutors and why the King had been so vague about the child’s problems. No, not a child, Durand reflected, but not a man either. Lucien was on the border of adulthood and would soon reach the age of inheritance. Once that happened, the King would no longer be able to hide his behavior or shield him from the scrutiny of the outside world. Should word spread that the Prince was frivolous and hedonistic–an unstable successor–it could lead to ruin. Yet every attempt to rein the boy in had failed. Most likely because the former tutors had been too soft, too lenient. Durand would never make such a mistake. He knew when a firm hand was needed and he wasn’t afraid to use it. If the King had only sought him out earlier, he wouldn’t have had to waste so much time.

No matter, Durand thought, reaching for the gold door handle. The challenge was his now, and he was quite looking forward to breaking in his new charge.

Lucien watched the door swing open and smirked. He knew that yet another tutor had been brought in to ‘correct’ his behavior, and he’d prepared a special surprise to greet him. Shutting his eyes, he let his head fall back, gasping loudly as he listened to footsteps entering his chamber.

He knew exactly what his newest servant would see upon entering the room. A wide, circular space centered around the huge, ornate bed, drawing one’s eye immediately to it. The Prince lay sprawled on crimson sheets, two naked young men servicing him. Lucien could hear the footsteps slowly walk before the bed. He could just imagine the astonished, appalled look on the new tutor’s face. Of course, he hadn't actually seen the man yet, but these academic types were all the same. He wondered if this one wore spectacles as well. Giving in to his curiosity, the young man lifted his head and finally opened his eyes.

Two dark, knowing eyes stared back at him. For a moment Lucien was at a loss. This man was not like the others. He looked tall, strong, and self-assured. But the Prince was far too used to getting his own way, and he saw little reason why this situation should be any different. With a breathy sigh, he parted his full, pink lips, spread his thighs, and wriggled in place while his two conspirators licked and sucked along the length of his exposed cock. The shocking, erotic display had never failed to get a reaction. Either the new tutors were disgusted and fled, or wickedly aroused despite themselves and inevitably joined in.

This newcomer, however, moved for neither the doors nor the bed. Instead, the wickedly handsome man with the midnight locks planted his feet, crossed his arms, and stood watching him, a grin spreading slowly across his arrogant mouth.

The sultry, taunting gleam in Lucien's eyes faded. The stranger’s dark, mocking eyes seemed to see right through him and his ruse. Here, perhaps, the Prince had met a proper adversary.

Abruptly, he pushed the other boys away, even as they tried to pleasure him.

“Leave us,” he ordered. The two young men glanced at one another, wondering at the Prince’s sudden change in mood, but they knew better than to argue with him. They were only servants after all, even if they were currently in his Highness’s favor. Quickly picking up their clothes, they scurried for the exit, not even waiting to dress.

Durand noted the boys’ dismissal and the way they obeyed without hesitation. His eyes narrowed. He certainly had his work cut out for him.

The blonde on the bed looked back at him challengingly. His body was young, soft, and firm. His hair was deep gold and his skin a naturally tawny shade that accentuated his bright azure eyes. Durand noted that the robe he wore loosely over his shoulders was a similar shade. Obviously the boy was well aware of his charms and knew how to make the most of them. He found himself wondering how many men the boy had enticed to his bed with those looks.

“You’re the new tutor,” the Prince said smoothly, making no move to close his robe or cover himself.

“Yes, your Highness.”

The young man couldn’t hide his smirk when he heard the man address him by title, as if it affirmed his position and supported his belief that no one would dare question his authority.

Durand grinned back. The boy had a lot to learn.

“My name is Jules Durand,” he said. “You may call me Sir Durand, or simply Sir.”

“Well, Sir Durand,” Lucien replied mockingly, “Perhaps you have never been among people of a certain social status, but it is customary for those in my presence to genuflect and wait to speak until they are spoken to-and I didn’t ask your name.”

“Those are the customs, are they?”

Lucien frowned at the other man’s tone. He almost sounded if he was about to laugh. Where was his reverence? His humility before the next King of Perrin? “Yes,” he replied, “they are!” His irritation was obvious as he sat up straighter and crossed his slender arms over his chest.

“My apologies, but I think you will find that many of the ‘customs’ you are used to will not apply to me.”

“What do you mean?” the blonde asked suspiciously.

“I have not been sent as your tutor only. I am here to see that you are shaped into a more proper young man.” The one word was emphasized with a derisive sweep of the eyes.

Lucien was incensed and swiftly shut his robe, feeling that he had somehow been insulted. “I’ll decide what’s proper for me!” he retorted defensively.

The other man didn’t seem to hear him, which was even more infuriating.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Durand asked casually, moving to an armchair next to the bed.

“You won’t last you know,” Lucien said glibly, hoping to get a rise out of the man. Without looking up, the dark-haired man replied in his silky voice, “we’ll see about that.” Pulling out a small notepad and lead stylus, he ignored the boy’s glare. “Tell me about your life,” Durand asked unexpectedly.

The blonde-haired young man blinked, the direct, personal question throwing him off-guard. No one had asked him anything about himself for as long as he could remember. Guests only wanted to know about the palace–the jewels, the clothes, the prestige. Diplomats only wanted flattery. Servants had their uses, but conversation was not one of them. As for his father, he saw him rarely and spoke to the man even less.

“My life?” Lucien asked with a shrug.

“Yes,” Durand replied, meeting the boy’s eyes. “For instance, how many sexual partners have you had in the last six months?”

Immediately, the young Prince bristled, all his calm of the moment before gone. He answered the other man with scathing glare.

Durand smirked. “Ah, six months is too long to remember, is it? I suppose it is easy to loose count with so many liaisons.”

Their eyes locked, each man sizing up the other. Lucien knew he would have to formulate a new strategy to deal with this man. The newcomer was clever, arrogant, and disturbingly handsome. It was a dangerous combination and he needed time to figure out how to deal with it. Pulling his robes more tightly about him, the Prince stood. Looking down at his new rival with cool disdain, he said, “This conversation is over.”

He turned to walk away and was startled when he felt a strong hand suddenly wrap around his wrist. Glancing over his shoulder, Lucien felt his heart thump against his ribs at the severe look over his tutor’s face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the man's voice seethed.

No one had dared speak to Lucien in such a tone before. His anger was buried by his shock as Durand yanked him backward, tossing him onto the bed. The boy fell facedown onto the sheets, feeling a real sense of danger for perhaps the first time in his life.

“You will find that I am not so easily dismissed,” Durand said in a low warning tone. When the Prince began to rise, the man took hold of his arm and bent it back uncomfortably, pinning the boy down on his stomach.

The young man struggled under the tutor's grip, to no avail. Through his uncertainty and shock, Lucien’s pride and anger rose to the surface.

“Y-you can’t do this to me! I’ll tell my father! You’ll be lucky if you’re allowed to leave alive!”

A chilling laughter rippled through the air. “His Majesty has given me permission to use any means necessary to tame you–and tame you I shall.”

“That’s not true! He would never-”

“He has. Now stop struggling.”

But Lucien continued to squirm beneath him–not that Durand minded. Keeping one hand on the boy’s arm, he pulled a glove off with his teeth and began to loosen his caveat. He was going to enjoy this.

Lucien heard the soft rustle of clothing and felt the man shift his arm from one hand to the other. Was he undressing? Just what the hell was happening here?

“What are you doing?” he demanded. The grip on his arm tightened painfully.

“You will address me as Sir or not at all,” came the man’s steely voice.

“Damn it! Tell me what hell is–owww!” the Prince ended in a yelp as Durand gave him a firm spank.

“I warned you.”

Growing panicked, the Prince said, “Tell me what you the hell you are doing, Sir.”

There was a pause during which Lucien could hear his heart pounding, then Durand said in a voice like black velvet, “I am going to fuck you.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.” As Durand spoke, his free hand drifted lightly over Lucien's ass and the boy wondered how on earth things had turned out this way. He could not imagine that his father had really given this heathen the right to do anything he pleased with him, but at the moment it seemed that he had no choice but to obey. He could not escape.

“Why… why would you do that, Sir?”

The new tutor leaned down, his weight pressing into the boy from behind and his lips next to the young man’s ear. “That’s what you were waiting for wasn’t it? What you were expecting? That I would see you exposed on your bed and be unable to resist you? Then you would have had me under your thumb like all the others.”

The Prince’s breathing hitched. How had this stranger been able to see through him so clearly?

“This… this is different! You’re forcing yourself upon me!” he protested.

A hand slipped under the material of the boy’s robe and ran sensuously up the valley of his ass. “I will not have to force you,” Durand said seductively. Lucien’s body responded to the tone automatically, despite himself.

“You will,” he said weakly.

Abruptly, his robe was shoved back, and a hand came down hard over an exposed ass cheek.

“You will not talk back to me,” Durand said, his voice sending a shiver through the young man that was not at all unpleasant. Something within Lucien responded to the other man’s commanding demeanor. The Prince had always had his way in the past. He had never met anyone who could best him. Deep inside, the young man recognized Durand’s authority and craved the discipline he offered.

“Yes,” Lucien whimpered.

Another sharp slap.

“Yes, Sir!” he corrected.

“That’s better. We are going to have lay some ground rules, Lucien. You will obey me in all things. You will address me with respect, as well as the servants. Do you understand?”

The boy struggled furtively, then finally said, exasperated, “Yes, Sir. I understand. Will you let me go now?”

Slap!

“Damn it!”

Slap!

“You will not curse,” Durand commanded.

“Yes… Sir,” he said, gritting his teeth in frustration.

Durand knew the young man was only agreeing with him to avoid further punishment, true repentance would have to come with time. This was only the beginning after all.

One strong hand caressed the reddened flesh of Lucien’s buttocks, and Durand leaned over the young prostrate body. “Good. Now that wasn’t so hard was it?” Lucien wisely refrained from making a reply.

“But you’ve certainly made something else hard, haven't you?” Durand said softly, swaying his groin against the boy’s hip so Lucien could feel the bulge growing there. He waited, gauging the young man's reaction.

Beneath him, Lucien bit his lip, stifling a small moan. The new tutor was infuriating, yet the way he took charge of him, the commanding, masculine force of his person, was compelling. For so many years his life had been nothing more than a boring pursuit of fleeting pleasures. He had no real friends or companions. The people around him were chosen because of their background or breeding, and they kowtowed to his wishes in repayment for the influence he granted them. It was all very calculated, controlled, and dull. The servants were slightly more fun. They would begin with politeness, but if prompted properly some of the boys could be persuaded into all manner of debauchery. In the end, however, they were below his station and never forgot it. Everyone in one way or another bent to his will, and as he grew older, he pushed their obedience further. Partially he was waiting to see when his outlandish behavior would finally make his father snap and deal with him himself. But the days went by, one much the same as the other, and Lucien grew more bored and restless and isolated.

Until today. This stranger had walked in and completely ambushed him. The man was not afraid of him, nor would he bow to him to win favor or influence. Durant seemed intent only on one thing: his obedience.

He felt the hard erection through the fabric of the tutor’s pants and squirmed. This was a man whom he could not control. It was frightening and intoxicating at the same time.

Lucien was responding beautifully. Not fifteen minutes had gone by and already Durand had the boy more under control than he guessed any of the other tutors ever had. Granted his methods were unusual, but they achieved results. And he was quite enjoying himself. Lucien was slim and toned and lovely. The young man had him rock hard in an instant. The fact he was already begging so beautifully only fueled his libido. But Durand had learned long ago to control his impulses, and despite his promise to fuck the boy he would resist until it was the opportune time.

Barring outright copulation, however, there were still other things left open to him-and Durand could already sense that the Prince's high libido would be a useful tool in getting the young man to obey.

"Get on your hand and knees, he said, releasing Lucien, much to the boy's surprise.

“But...”

“Obey me.”

Lucien swallowed. He opened his mouth, considered the man before him, then shut it again, positioning himself as told.

“Now, since you were so intend on your pleasure earlier when I arrived, I would hate to deprive you of it,” Durand began, his voice laced with hidden intent. “You will make yourself come, so I can watch you.”

The young man looked over his shoulder at this unexpected proclamation, not sure if his new tutor was mocking him, or if we was serious. He couldn't get a grip on this man.

“I'm waiting,” Durand said, cocking an eyebrow.

“I can’t come like this, on my knees.”

Spank!

“You will come if I tell you to. Now let’s find a better use for that mouth of yours.” With that Durant leaned over to slip a finger into the boy's mouth.

Lucien latched onto it with a vigor that surprised them both. He hadn't meant to even obey, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Durant's manner spoke to a deeper need inside him that he couldn't resist.

As Lucien took hold of his cock to fondle himself, Durand used his free hand to lightly tease the boy's entrance.

“You had those other boys in here to fuck you, didn’t you?”

the man asked, his body pressing close.

“Yes, Sir,” Lucien replied around his finger.

Durand's voice hissed as he said fiercely, “starting today, you will allow no one to fuck you but me!”

“Yes, Sir!”

Although Durand knew he was being unusually possessive, he couldn't help himself. The boy was so perfect, and in any case it was his job to rein him in. Beneath him, Lucien panted as he stroked himself faster.

Durand could easily read the Prince's reactions as he toyed with the rosy bud of his portal. When Lucien began to quake with the onset of his release, Durant finally slipped one thick digit inside him, causing the young man to nearly scream in satisfaction as he pumped in and out of his body while he came. Yet even that was not enough. The moment after release, Lucien was pushing his hips back for deeper penetration.

“Fuck me,” he breathed. Utterly lost to the carnal desires of his body, Lucien had all but forgotten who it was hovering over him.

Smack!

The sting of Durand’s hand was a quick reminder. However, rather than cooling his lusts, the authoritative blow only drove his desire higher. Lucien had never known that he craved such discipline; it was like a drug.

“Fuck me, Sir!” he blurted out unthinkingly. It did not even occur to him that he was contradicting the protests he had made just moments before. It was often this way with him when his desire overcame him. When Lucien was in the throes of his lust, it was one of the only times he could truly lose himself, and he'd learned to revel in it.

Abruptly, Durand pulled his head back by the hair and told the young man, “I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready! And not before!”

Yet the man couldn’t resist pumping Lucien with just his fingers for a bit longer. The boy responded so deliciously to his torment. Durand smirked. Ansel had been right. The Prince was sensitive, he mused. Lucien was already hard again.

“Please Sir!” he young man begged.

Durand cocked an eyebrow down at the blonde’s flushed face. Timing was everything, he reminded himself, and slowed his pace, easing out of the young man’s sweet ass.

“I thought… aren’t you going to fuck me… Sir?” Lucien asked meekly. He watched, stupefied as his tutor began calmly dressing again, straightening his shirt and pulling on his gloves.

“And I told you I will… in my own time.”

Durand waited for the Prince’s reaction. Although the boy had been complacent and pleading a moment before, he knew he had hardly reformed. Now was when the real lesson would begin.

Sure enough, Lucien’s face closed with anger as his temper flared. The boy enjoyed the game they had played, but Lucien did not stand for his pleasures being postponed.

“I said please and Sir,” he insisted.

The other man flexed his fingers as he adjusted his gloves. “As you should,” Durand told him, “but that doesn’t change things.”

The young Prince’s typical haughtiness quickly returning, he hiked his ass up higher, arching his back. “I want to be fucked, Sir,” he said firmly.

When Durand ignored him, he turned over and sat on the bed, staring at the man defiantly. Who did he think he was? Coming in here, being so rough with him… and then making him scream with pleasure only to deny him?

“If you don’t fuck me, I’ll just find someone who will.”

The dark-haired man glanced at him, but didn’t pause in fussing with his clothing.

“You already agreed I am the only one who will fuck you.”

“The agreement was made under duress. Do you really think you can hold me to that?” Lucien challenged.

Durand eyed him. “You will refrain from sexual relations with everyone but myself. The point is not up for negotiation.”

“You can’t make me,” the Prince retorted. It was a childish thing to say, but Lucien wasn’t feeling very reasonable.

“Can’t I?” Durand asked, his lips spreading into a self-assured grin.

Before Lucien could react, he was over the man’s knee. Durand then began a thorough spanking. The first few smacks still left Lucien aroused by the pain. However, after a few more, he began to wish he’d kept his mouth shut. And when the strikes continued, he began to truly regret pushing his new tutor.

“Please, Sir Durand! Please stop!” he begged, sincerely in pain now.

“It’s a bit late to beg now.”

“Ahh!” Lucien cried, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I won’t do it, I won’t!”

“You won’t do what?”

“I won’t let anyone else touch me, Sir!”

Durand raised an eyebrow. The wording especially pleased him, but he had to drill the point home.

“No one?”

“Only you, Sir!”

“Say it: Only I can fuck you.”

“Yes, only you can fuck me, Sir!”

Giving one last, hard smack, Durand released him, lifting the sniffling boy so he was sitting next to him on the bed. Lucien blinked up at him, eyes rimmed with tears. He looked very young and thoroughly chastised. The boy's deep blue eyes were swollen and gazed up at Durand with such longing for reprieve and acceptance that the man suddenly understood why no one had had the heart to deny this boy anything he asked for.

“There’s a good boy,” he said softly. Taking the Prince's chin in had, he dipped his head and closed his mouth over the young man’s lips.

The kiss was long and lingering, and Lucien grew lightheaded by the end of it. It wasn’t until Durand stood and left him that he realized it was the first time during the entire session that the man had kissed him. The young man touched his lips and wondered what he would have to endure for a second.

Meanwhile, Durand shut the door behind him with a grin. Ansel was beside him before he’d reached the end of the hall. At least the servant hadn’t been waiting by the door–Durand had specified earlier that no one come near the room when he was alone with his Highness.

“Well?” Ansel asked anxiously. “How did things go? Will you officially accept the position?”

Technically, Durand had already accepted, but apparently so many other tutors left the very first day that Ansel’s fretful concern was understandable.

Durand stopped walking and smiled down at the worried servant.

“Yes, Ansel. I accept.”



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