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When his father struck him, Rhodri left, but, instead of going to his room, hid in the corridor-then followed Merfyn and Arvel when they came out of his brother's room. Jealous because his father was taking Arvel, he wanted to see where they were going. Following them outside Rhodri saw his father place Arvel on a horse, then mount behind him. It surprised him because his father usually traveled by carriage, accompanied by guards and servants. When they rode off, Rhodri followed on foot, trying to stay out of sight in the shadows. Luckily, Merfyn never rode the horse faster than at a trot, so Rhodri was able to keep them in sight, following them to the King's palace. Instead of entering by the front, they rode around to the side where, after tying up the horse, they disappeared into the bushes along the wall. Behind the bushes, Rhodri found a small door. Opening it, he stepped into a darkened passageway and saw the moving light of a torch ahead. He followed it until he came to a small torch lit chamber. Hidden in the shadows of the passageway, he watched. Rhodri recognized the other men-Cadell, the king's wizard, and Heddwyn, the commander of the king's guard. Arvel was naked, standing in a wooden tub; his father and Heddwyn held his arms. Arvel was crying. The wizard, muttering an incantation, held a knife in his hand. Holding Arvel's little cock and balls in one hand, the wizard, pulled them out from his body, slicing them off with the knife. Blood, spurting from the boy's crotch, ran down his legs. Rhodri placed his hands over his ears to block out Arvel's screams. Seeing the wizard place Arvel's cock and balls into a wooden bowl, Rhodri wondered why the wizard had cut them off. The wizard didn't stop with Arvel's cock and balls, though; next he slit his wrists and neck. The blood flowed from numerous wounds, streaking Arvel's body, as it ran into the tub. After a few moments he heard his father ask, "Is he dead?" The wizard answered, "Yes. The boy is dead." Dead? They had killed his brother. Rhodri was shocked and frightened by what he had seen. It's not that he loved his brother. Now that he was dead, there would be no chance that Arvel would ever replace him as his father's favorite, but, if his father could kill one son, could he not kill the other? Rhodri was concerned for himself, not for his brother. Then, he heard his father say, "Not the boy-the king. Is he dead?" The wizard answered, "Yes, the king, too, is dead." Blood wizardry. Arvel had been a blood sacrifice. Since his father had given him in sacrifice to Nysrogh, not only his soul would be damned, but Merfyn's and all his descendents, as well. Rhodri realized that his father had damned him. He would never look upon the face of the God. Retreating down the passageway, he left the palace, running home-hiding in the shadows, when he heard his father's horse behind him. He was one of the few who weren't surprised the next day to hear that the king was dead. Merfyn was proclaimed regent-then king, when Prince Emrys disappeared. Rhodri wondered what boy had been sacrificed to pay for his life. They moved to the king's palace. His father was king; he was Prince Rhodri, the prince of Wales. Merfyn eliminated those who opposed him, filling the dungeons and lining the roads with their impaled corpses. Even the God's priests were killed. Since a blood king ruled, Nysrogh, not the God, held sway in Dolwyddelan. The God's priests, without his protection, had no power. There wasn't even the need to sacrifice a boy for their lives. Boys were still sacrificed, though, and not just those without their man hair-sacrificed, now, in the public square, not in the chambers below the palace. Cadell no longer had to hide that he was a blood wizard. Those who had opposed Merfyn were either dead or too frightened to object. Public sacrifice, as did public execution, demonstrated the perils of treachery, helping to keep the people subservient to the king. Boys also learned that it was dangerous to be noticed by Rhodri. Although those he favored were rewarded, those who later gave him offense suffered, often losing much more than they had gained by his favor. By the time he was twelve, Rhodri had his man hair and was large for his age. His cock had grown. He, too, had discovered its use. Sex wasn't hidden. Boys often married by the time they were fourteen-girls by the time they were twelve. He had masturbated before he had his man hair, but it wasn't until it had begun to grow that he had been able to milk his cock. In his bed, he had awoken with his cock hard, as it often was. He began stoking it. Stroking his cock had always felt good. At times it had even resulted in a pleasurable spasm in his crotch. This time, he felt an almost unbearable tension build up-one that must be relieved. Faster-he pumped his cock. Suddenly, a dam broke within him, releasing both the tension and the cream freshly produced by his balls. In great spurts, it gushed from his cock-onto his chest and his stomach. Waves of pleasure washed over him. He did it three more times before he got up from his bed-before he remembered that he could use things-other than his hand. He went looking for a slave boy he had seen-one that reminded him of Arvel. He had his choice of any slave. He could have chosen a girl, but boys had always made him hard, not girls or women. Their slits and hanging breasts repulsed him. Thinking about Arvel-how he had died-made him hard. He had stuck his cock up Arvel's ass-had fucked him before he got his man hair, warning him afterward not to say anything-but had no cream at the time to shoot into his ass. Arvel was dead, but the slave boy was the same age as Arvel had been-and resembled him. If he couldn't fuck Arvel, he would him. Finding the boy, he told him to come his room. A slave, the boy was naked. Rhodri told him to get on the bed, then, after undressing, joined him. Rhodri raised the boy's legs, placing the head of his cock at the entrance to his hole. With a thrust of his hips, he rammed it into the boy's ass. Paying no attention to the boy's cries, Rhodri thrust his cock into the boy's hole until he shot his cream. When finished, he got up from the bed; the boy lay there, crying softly. Looking at the boy's small cock and balls, Rhodri thought of Arvel-how the wizard had cut off his, deciding to do the same to the boy. Although the wizard had cut Arvel's cock and balls off with one slice, that wasn't how slaves were usually castrated: their nut sacks were slit open; then, when their balls dropped out, they were sliced off one at a time. For Rhodri, if he had cut them off with one slice, it would have been over too soon. Tying the boy's hands and feet, he picked up his knife and climbed back onto the bed, kneeling, naked, over the boy, with the boy's legs pinned between his. As sated as he had been moments before, his cock became hard-throbbing-as he anticipated what he planned. Pinching the skin on the boy's nut sack, he pulled, stretching the skin. The boy opened his eyes wide when he placed the knife point at the bottom of his nut sack. As young as he was, the boy had seen slaves castrated. He had no doubt that he prince planned to do the same to him. Even the bravest of slaves had screamed when their balls had been cut off. Many had died. He had known that, being a slave, he would probably lose his balls or his cock, but had thought it wouldn't happen until he was older. "No," he pleaded. "Please don't cut off my balls." It wasn't that he had use for his balls; they hadn't yet ripened; but he was afraid of the pain-afraid of dying. Ignoring his cries, Rhodri, split the boy's sack from bottom to top, revealing the two acorns inside. The boy screamed, but not nearly so loudly as he did when, Rhodri grabbing one, pulled, stretching the ball's cords, then cut through them. Freed from its cords, he held the boy's ball in his hand. His cock was throbbing. As many times as he had spurted his cream, he felt ready to do it again. Continuing to hold the boy's small ball in his hand, he grasped the other, slicing it off as well; then, holding the boys balls in his hand, began pumping his cock, feeling the balls roll over its shaft and head. Augmented by the boy's screams, his climax seemed to continue forever. Time seemed to stand still. Blood, pouring from the boy's crotch, mingled with Rhodri's cream, which seeped from the boy's ass. Fresh cream, spurting from Rhodri's cock, pooled on the boy's stomach. Spent, Rhodri, collapsed on top the boy; then, rising, he saw the boy's cock above his empty ball sack. Picking up his knife, he sliced it off. There were no more screams. The boy had fainted. Rhodri never knew whether the boy lived or died-nor did he care. He had been more aroused by cutting off the boy's balls than he had by his ass. Since the boy no longer had either a cock or balls, he no longer interested Rhodri. There were other slave boys who would lose their balls in Rhodri's bed-other boys who would be covered with his cream after he had rubbed his cock with their severed balls. Rhodri had no friends; he had sycophants. They curried his favor for the rewards it might bring, and to avoid the chastisement his wrath might bring. One, who had beaten him in a contest, although he had his man hair, became a sacrifice for Cadell. A stone table had been erected in the square. It was slanted and had groves which collected the victim's blood, draining it into a vessel at the table's lower end. Bevan, the offending boy, was the son of a noble, but Rhodri had spread rumors of words of treason which Bevan had spoken-rumors substantiated by some of his toadies. Naked, in chains, Bevan was led to the table. Cadell stood beside the table with the sacrificial knife in his hand. Being the blood prince, Rhodri was allowed to participate. The boy' wrists were attached to rings which held his arms outstretched, with his wrists positioned above groves in the table, so his blood wouldn't be wasted. His ankles were fastened to other rings, holding his legs apart. A grove ran from between his legs-from his crotch. Since the boy had his man hair, his seed would be collected before his blood. A boy's last seed-that collected before his death-was also powerful. Rhodri would extract that seed. "Prince," pleaded Bevan, "you know I didn't commit treason. Please don't let him do this. If I'm a blood sacrifice, I'll never see the face of the God." "You've condemned yourself with your words," replied Rhodri. "The God does not rule in Dolwyddelan." Rhodri no longer concerned himself with the God, who, along with his priests, no longer had any power in Merfyn's kingdom. Nysrogh ruled, not the God. Rhodri, as well as his father, was a servant of Nysrogh. Because of Rhodri's accusations, there was no one watching who would mourn Bevan's death. His father's body sat on a pole outside the gates. His mother was in the dungeon. His brothers and sisters were being held to be sold as slaves-or to be used as future sacrifices. If any mourned, it was because they knew the same might happen to them. Mirroring his dread, Bevan's cock hung limply from his crotch. He knew that the prince would milk him before the wizard cut off his balls. He would continue to pump his cock until he had extracted the last of his seed-until his balls were emptied. He liked sex-liked pumping his cock-as well as any other boy his age, but, he didn't want these climaxes. Picking up his cock, the prince began pumping it. Bevan willed it to stay soft-but to no avail. He hadn't masturbated since he had been imprisoned; his balls were full. His cock grew, becoming hard in Rhodri's hand. As Rhodri pumped his cock, Bevan felt his climax come, biting his lip as it did, spurting his cream into a bowl that Rhodri held. Three more times he spurted into the bowl before his cock refused to become hard. Rhodri milked his cock, extracting every last drop of his cream. Then, it was Cadell's turn. Cadell split open his nut sack, allowing his balls to drop free of their purse, then sliced off the sack. Grabbing one of his balls, the wizard pulled. Bevan felt the pull from deep inside. It felt like his very guts were being pulled out; but it was followed by a sharp, gut wrenching, kicked in the nuts pain, when Cadell cut off his ball, placing it in the wooden bowl with his collected cream. The sensations were repeated when the wizard cut off his other nut. Bevan had screamed-was still screaming-as Cadell cut off his cock. Blood poured from his crotch. Overwhelmed by the pain in his crotch, he wasn't aware of having his wrists slit. There was no need to slit the boy's throat. The veins which had fed his mature cock-along with the slit veins in his wrists-pumped out enough blood. Before long, blood ceased to flow from his wounds. His chest no longer rose and fell. Taken from the table, his body was dumped into an open pit in the woods. It was of no use. Cadell had his blood, his cock, his balls, and his seed. They were all he needed. No other boy ever won in a contest with Rhodri. Rhodri's appearance belied his character. A handsome boy, he was above average in height, with light brown hair, just curly enough so that it stood out from his head. The muscles of his chest pushed out against his shirt. His face was pleasing-until you were close enough to see his eyes. They were cold-as if he'd seen too much death-as if he'd caused too much death. His mouth was turned down in a grimace-as if he never laughed, never shared a joke with a friend-never had a friend. Years passed. Rhodri looked forward to his father's death-when he would become king. Then, he would answer to no one for his actions. Now, he sometimes had to use subterfuge to get what he wanted-to kill whom he wanted. Boys of various ages had lost their balls and cocks in his bed. Not all of them had been slaves. He didn't have to explain why he had cut off a slave's balls. Some of the others had been more difficult. Yorath had been one such boy. Although not the son of a noble, his father had been a rich merchant. Rhodri had been sixteen; Yorath had been fifteen. Rhodri had attended court the day merchant and his son had been introduced the king. The merchant's son was beautiful. Thinking he could love such a boy, Rhodri invited him to the palace the next day. When he introduced Yorath to the boys of his coterie they looked at Yorath appreciatively-and looked at each other knowingly. Most had been in Rhodri's bed, having his cock in their asses or in their mouths. Luckily, they all still had their cocks and balls. Those who had lost theirs in Rhodri's bed were either dead or were slaves. Rhodri wasted little time, taking the boy to his room soon after he had arrived at the palace. Placing his hand in the boy's black, curly, hair, Rhodri said, "You're really quite beautiful." "Thank you, my lord," said the boy, feeling apprehensive. He had fucked slaves, both male and female, but he had never had sex with an equal, much less with a prince; but, from the way the prince looked at him, he knew that's what he wanted. What did the prince want? Did he want to fuck him like he was a common slave? Although he thought the prince handsome, to be fucked by him would be degrading-shameful. How could he face his father knowing he'd been the prince's catamite? Leaning over, the prince kissed him on the mouth, running his tongue through his parted lips. "Please, your highness," he said, "don't." "Don't?" Rhodri was furious. No one had ever refused him. Grabbing the boy by the shoulders, he shoved him onto the bed. "Take off your clothes." "Please, your highness. Don't make me do this. Surely, there are slaves you can use. I'll join you," he said, in desperation. "We can share a slave." "I don't want a slave. I want you. Take off your clothes," Rhodri said, picking up a quirt-striking it across his palm. Yorath and his father weren't from Dolwyddelan, having traveled there on his father's business. In his city, even the king would have not made such demands on his subjects. One had slaves for that. He knew that some well bred boys had sex together, but no one spoke of it in public; they whispered about it behind cupped hands. He was not one of those boys. "Please, my lord. I am not a pederast." Pederast? Was this boy accusing him of being a pederast? What did the boy think he was-his equal? The boy was as far beneath him as a slave was beneath the boy. "Have you ever fucked a slave?" he asked. Yorath hesitated, then answered, "Yes, my lord." "A boy?" "Yes, my lord." "Did you ask his permission?" "No-no, my lord, why should I? He was but a slave." "I am the prince. You are in my room-in my palace. You have no more rights than a slave; here, you are no better than a slave. You will pleasure me, if I ask it-and I do not ask, I order it. Now, take off your clothes." Looking around, Yorath didn't know what to do. His father, not in the palace, was busy in the city's market. The prince's men were stationed outside the door. He knew it would do no good to call out to them. When he didn't move, the prince struck him with the quirt. "Take off your clothes, I said." He struck him again. Crying-pleading-Yorath began taking off his clothes. Rhodri struck him again to speed him along. Rhodri looked appreciatively at the naked boy. His raven black hair, curled around his face. His skin was like ivory. He was slender through the chest. His hips were full, his ass-well rounded. There was little hair on his arms and legs-just a shadow of dark hair beneath each of his arms; a thicket of black hair curled around his cock. His dark brown eyes, were rimmed by long black eyelashes. The boy wasn't aroused, but Rhodri was. "Lie down on the bed," he said, hitting him again with the quirt, raising a welt on his ribs. Yorath, lying on the bed, covered his genitals with his hands. It was the way the prince looked at them that shamed him, not that he was naked. He had played sports naked, but, if someone had looked at him then-the way the prince looked at him now-he hadn't been aware of it. Not taking his eyes off him, the prince peeled off his clothes-stood looking at him, his hard cock jutting out from his body, a drop of moisture hanging from its end. Rhodri lay next to the boy. "Suck my cock," he said. Aghast, Yorath didn't know what to do. He had resigned himself to being fucked-to lying still while the prince used his ass, but, the prince wanted him to take his cock into his mouth. Just the thought of the prince shooting his cream into his mouth made him feel like vomiting. "No," he said, "I will not." His honor was worth his life. Let the prince kill him, instead. Rhodri hit him over and over with the quirt. Still, the boy wouldn't do it. Frustrated, he yelled for his guards. "Tie him up," he said to them after they entered. Knowing better than to defy the prince, they did as he instructed, tying the boy spread-eagled on the bed, ropes strung from his arms and legs to the bed posts. "I will teach you what it means to refuse me," he said. Kneeling with his legs bestride the boy's chest, he masturbated, depositing his cream on the boy's face, forcing his cock between his lips, getting some of it inside his mouth. Then, he fucked him. "Tell me you liked it," he said, but, crying, the boy refused to answer. Getting off the bed, Rhodri picked up his knife. Holding it where Yorath could see it, he said, "Tell me you liked it. Tell me you want to suck my cock." Yorath thought the prince was threatening to kill him. He hoped he would. He didn't want to live with his shame. How could he face his father after the prince had used him like a common slave? Clenching his teeth, he shook his head. Climbing onto the bed, the prince knelt between his legs. Holding the point of the knife to bottom of his ball sack, the prince repeated, "Tell me you liked it." Yorath said it. Somehow, the threat of castration was worse than the threat of death. If he died, his shame would die with him, but, castrated, he would no longer be a man. He would be no better than a slave. "I liked it," he screamed. "I think you lie." Rhodri had already decided to take the boy's balls. His cock was hard-throbbing. The boy's balls were large-more the size of walnuts than acorns. He wondered how it would feel to masturbate with them in his hand. But, first, if the boy wouldn't suck his cock, he would suck his. He had never sucked a cock-had never let a boy fuck him, but had wondered how it would feel. A boy's last seed was powerful. Perhaps, if he swallowed it, he would take the boy's power into himself. Yorath was surprised when the prince, placing the knife aside picked up his limp cock. Against his will, it had become hard when the prince had fucked him, but was flaccid again. He was shocked when the prince took it into his mouth. The softness of his tongue-the heat of his mouth-hardened his cock. Shock had replaced his shame. The prince, who had so recently reminded him of his lowly status, was sucking his cock. The shame he felt for the prince almost equaled that he felt for himself. He didn't want to come into the prince's mouth; he tried to hold it back, but there was no stopping his climax. He felt it build below his cock-then explode, shooting his hot spunk into the royal mouth. Rhodri drained the boy, using either his mouth or his hand, swallowing his seed until he could produced no more-draining his balls of the last they would ever produce. He imagined that he could feel the boy's spunk in his stomach, radiating power. Or, if it didn't have power now, perhaps it would when the boy's balls were removed. Licking a last drop of come from the boy's cock, he sat back on his haunches-and picked up the knife. What did the prince intend, now, Yorath wondered? He had drained him. Never had he come so many times in one day. The first few, in spite of himself, had been pleasurable. The last had yielded as much pain as pleasure, wrung from his cock as it had been. Again, the prince pressed the point of his knife to the bottom of his ball sack. This time, however, he cut, slicing open the sack from top to bottom. Yorath screamed. His balls dropped out of their split pouch. Gathering first one side-then the other-the prince sliced off his ball sack, leaving his balls hanging from his crotch by their cords. By now, nothing should have surprised Yorath, but having his ball sack cut off had. Just as, being a young boy, he had difficulty believing he could die, he had difficulty picturing himself without his cock or balls. They were part of him. His father had already arranged for him to marry, expecting a grandson to carry on the family's name. He still had his balls, but they dangled in the open air. How could they survive without their pouch? He needn't have worried. Picking up one of theboy's balls, Rhodri held it in his hand. Yorath gasped from the pressure of the prince's rough hand on his sensitive orb. When the prince pulled, Yorath thought he was going to rip it out, but, after stretching the cords, he cut it off. Yorath felt the cords snap back into his crotch. Then, the prince grabbed the other, pulled, stretched its cords and cut it off, as well, holding both of Yorath's nuts in his hand, staring at them as they lay in his open palm. Yorath could smell the stink of his vomit. The gut wrenching pain had caused him to throw up. Still, he couldn't take his eyes off the prince-off the balls he held in his hand. What future did he have without them? With no balls, he couldn't be his father's heir. His younger brother would inherit, instead. Holding the balls in his bloody hand, Rhodri grasped his cock, massaging it, rubbing the boy's balls over its shaft and head. As he had with others, he shot his cream onto the boy's crotch and stomach, then collapsed on top the boy, lying with his face next to his. As always, that climax had been the best. He would keep the boy's balls, using them later in the same manner, but he knew it wouldn't be as good after the balls had cooled-after his passion had cooled. He kissed the boy. "I love you," he said, and, for that moment, he did-for the pleasure he'd given him. Pushing himself up, he rose to knees, looking to the boy's cock. It's bloody end dangled into his ruined crotch. Saying, "You have no need of this," he cut it off, then rising, called to the guards, "Take this boy. See that he doesn't die. He will be my body servant." Merfyn was angry at his son-not because he had cut off some boy's balls, but because he had cut off the balls of the merchant's son. He had no choice, but to kill the merchant, losing the profit he would have gained from their accord. The merchant, having loved his son, wouldn't accept money in his stead, and Merfyn couldn't return him to the father without cock and balls. He thought about killing Rhodri. Since he planned to live forever, he had no need of an heir. Only the remembrance of the guilt he had felt upon the death of Arvel, prevented him. Perhaps, he should have sacrificed Rhodri for the life of Emrys-but, although alive, Emrys was gone, a love slave in faraway Araby. With no cock or balls, what could he do? He could never be king-could never contest the throne. He beat Rhodri for what he'd done-for the money he'd cost him, leaving scars on his back-and hate for his father in his heart. Two more years passed. Rhodri kept Yorath as his body servant, sometimes fucking him, sometimes having him suck his cock. Yorath no longer refused; with the loss of his balls, he'd lost his pride. Sometimes, he watched as Rhodri fucked other boys-watched as he castrated them and cut off their cocks. Rhodri was eighteen, but his father didn't seem to have aged. Neither had Cadell. Heddwyn had aged, though. Cadell hadn't sacrified any boys to extend his life, but had used a spell to deceive him that he and Merfyn were aging as well. Immortality and command of the army would have made him too powerful. When he was no longer of any use to Merfyn and Cadell, he would be replaced. Cadell had become more powerful through blood sacrifice than he could have imagined. His power kept the people subjugated and the army in check. His power made Merfyn's army invincible. Without him, Merfyn would have been no more than a petty tyrant. He needed Merfyn, though. To tap into the power of Nysrogh, the land had to be ruled by a blood king. Without balls, Cadell could not be king. He could only be the power behind the king. Each month, on the night of the new moon, he had to sacrifice two boys, one for himself and one for Merfyn. As long as he did, they would never grow old-would never die. Given enough time, Merfyn and Cadell would rule Wales, England, Ireland, and Scotland. Given enough time, they would rule the world. Nysrogh would rule. The God would be defeated. Already, Heddwyn had conquered nearby kingdoms, providing plunder and slaves-new boys to be sacrificed. The priest houses in those kingdoms had been destroyed, the God's priests had been killed, or had been driven out-the God's wizards had been rendered impotent. |