Far From Home One: The Warlord's Chosen-- A M/M Fantasy Romance

4- Readying the Warprize

**TRIGGER WARNING: non-consensual touching **

AMER—

I was all but catatonic as I was led away by three of my father's chamber servants— three men I didn't know well at all. Possibly the only three servants in or around the castle I didn't know.

Which was, of course, how my father planned it.

They had me naked and shoved into a cold, shallow basin before I could even think to protest. And then they were lathering me in various oils and herbs, cleaning every inch of me as if they were going to be eating off of my bare skin.

I was horrified when I looked up and saw not only my father, Reignner, and Butcger, but the man the Warlord had left, all standing around watching me being cleansed for the Warlord's pleasure.

My father called out a few orders, words I chose to ignore as I studied the Akaran who stood stoically apart from my father and his men. He was tall, almost as tall as the Warlord, and at least ten years his senior— probably around my father's age. He had black hair tinged with gray and white, a full beard, and leanly muscled legs and arms encased in thick leathers and weapons of various kinds.

He nodded in acknowledgment when our eyes met, almost a bow, but I looked away, afraid he would be angry I had been studying him so closely. I was justifiably curious about these men I would now have to serve, to live among, for the rest of my life.

When the servants helped me from the basin, I stood shivering in the cold, my hands cupping my limp, bare cock, trying to maintain some modicum of modesty and pride, as one of the servants brought forward a piercing kit. My cock was already pierced at the base, as well as my belly button, and my ears had a few piercings each.

Each piercing had a different meaning— the ear piercings showed my status as royalty, and my wealth as such. The cock piercing was a status symbol that I had passed my schooling and was no longer considered a child. Cock piercings were given to men on their sixteenth birthdays to celebrate their transition into manhood. The belly piercing was personal— a signal to potential lovers that I preferred men over women. It was not something I wanted my father to see.

Especially now.

Despite my various piercings, I would need more. For a slave had their nipples pierced, and a sex slave had their perineum pierced with a bar.

The Akaran held his hand up, and all three servants froze. I glanced up at him, terrified as he glared down at my father, who was at least a foot shorter than the stoic man.

The Akaran moved over and studied the piercing needles, the jewelry that would be placed in my skin, and then his eyes met mine. I held his gaze steadily, despite my embarrassment at being completely nude in front of this needlessly large group of people. I didn't know what he sought in my gaze, but he seemed to have found it, for he put his hand down and nodded for the servants to continue.

I muttered not a word or sound of complaint as both nipples were pierced, little drops of scarlet dripping down my stomach. Then I was laid on the ground in the bathing room— the cold rock harsh on my skin, sensitized by the tepid water, the oils, and the abuse I had already endured.

My body froze and I clenched my eyes shut against the pain when cold, harsh fingers lifted my cock and balls and pulled them roughly up towards my belly. A vicious growl froze the fingers on my cock, and they were replaced with a much more calloused, warmer, and... gentler hand. I glanced down and met the eyes of the Akaran, my brows clashing above my eyes as he stared back at me with something akin to pride, almost... affection. He hushed me gently, his big hand holding my cock and balls up against my stomach, but without any pain, any harshness.

He said a few words that sounded comforting, his other hand coming up to rub my arm gently as I almost unconsciously reached out and grabbed the edge of his tunic. My back arched and my eyes slammed shut again when the needle pierced my perineum, the pain slicing through the sensitive, tender skin and up my spine. The servant who had been piercing me seemed much gentler now that the Akaran was so near to see if he hurt me, and I was grateful to the man.

The man who was my enemy. Seemingly protecting me from the ones who should have been my allies. Friends even.

Still, I made not a sound.

I could sense far too much joy wafting from my father for me to show him how much pain and humiliation I was enduring.

I thought of my sisters. Of Lillian, Charlie, Dew, all the others in the kitchen who had all but lain their lives out for me. Of Dove in the laundry, and Sally the head maid. Their faces got me through the worst of it, and I was gently helped to my feet by the Akaran once the bleeding had been stemmed and the wound cleaned by the servants.

The Akaran patted my shoulder, as if to comfort me, and then the servants were dressing me. I clenched my eyes shut against the sight of the flimsy silks and transparent cottons as they layered me in the dress of a sex slave.

A female sex slave.

I stared up at my father with barely contained rage. The Akarans wouldn't notice the difference, the slight, of my wearing women's clothing, but every El'kahrian in the room would. And they would think it was at the will of the Warlord.

No one could ever accuse my father of being stupid. Of not taking every opportunity to be snide and petty.

There was no tunic, leaving my newly-pierced, swollen nipples to be gawked at by any and all who so desired. The skirt was transparent, with only a small strip of cloth tied underneath to keep my cock and balls trapped up against my body, rubbing painfully against the new piercing there. The rest of me was completely open to the view of any who looked upon me.

They braided my hair back with pretty, sparkling baubles, changed out my ear piercings with diamonds and rubies that dripped in lines of gold, attached to each other and braided back into my hair in an elaborate headdress that made it difficult to move my head. My arms were adorned with bracelets, my ankles with strings of gold and silver, and my belly button piercing changed out for a dripping ruby.

The ruby resembled blood far too much for it to have been an accident. I stared up at my father, glaring as his eyes spoke the laughter I knew he wanted to shove in my face.

He had never seen my belly piercing before. Only a few of my closest friends knew about my preferences for men, and I kept the knowledge close. It was only one more thing my father would see as a weakness he could exploit. Since one of the only reasons he hadn't ended my life years ago was because his council knew I was the only male heir they had, letting them know I would likely never provide them an heir could have ended in my death.

Now all would know. All would see my private secrets, screamed out for the world to see.

I knew none of my friends would care for my preferences, but there was something violating about the thought that I wasn't choosing the telling that sent shivers down my spine and made me want to crawl into a ball the way even being nearly naked before everyone I had ever known didn't.

When the servants moved towards me with heavy blushes and makeup, the Akaran barked out a laugh and held his hand up, shaking his head. He spoke in Akari, but his message was clear.

The Warlord preferred my face free of makeup.

I met the Akaran's eyes in gratitude, and his smile was genuine as he looked me over. I flinched when he circled me, but he kept his hands clasped behind his back and didn't touch me. He came back around to smile into my face, his Akari words of obvious approval drifting over me and making me blush even deeper than before.

But when I saw the man who had moved up beside my father, I could almost feel the blood drain from my face.

The Master of Slaves— Denbar the Cruel.

** LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!!**