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

5- I Don't Know if I Can Do This

**Possible TRIGGER WARNING: ALMOST non-consensual body mod.

AMER—

The three servants who had spent the last hour dressing me quickly moved out of the way as Denbar stalked towards me. The Akaran was silent as the slave master grabbed my wrist, dragging me into the room next to the bathing chambers, where a stone slab stood to the side of the room.

Immediately I knew where we were. Why I hadn't recognized my surroundings until now.

We were in the slave quarters.

And I knew what this stone slab was used for.

I could hear my father arguing with Butcger, but I all but tuned them out as I was dragged to the slab and shoved onto it. My heart slamming against my ribs, my entire body shaking so violently I feared I would fall to the ground, and my skin cold with fear, I fought against the hold of the slave master.

But it was for naught. He deftly tied my left wrist to the slab, then my right, until I was standing, my knees knocking together, my back to the slab.

And then the knife glinted in his hand as he yanked my skirts up and away from my skin. I all but screamed when his skin brushed against mine.

I looked up and around at the men gathered around me, my mind spinning with how quickly everything was moving. I could see one of the servants moving over with a basin filled with hot coals.

The sight sent bile rising up my throat.

"Father!" I cried, desperately yanking at the chains around my wrists as I stared in horror at the man who shared my blood. "Please! You can't... D-don't do this!"

My father barked out a harsh laugh just as the Akaran finally managed to catch up, moving into the room and studying the chaos around him. The slave master and servants were moving so quickly, it was taking everything in me to keep up with their actions. I wasn't surprised he was taken aback too.

"I am father to you no longer, bastard child, if I ever was," my father spat cruelly just as the slave master seized my cock in a grip meant to cause pain. I cried out and began to sob uncontrollably, finally breaking where I had been able to endure before, as I caught sight of the blade flashing in the slave master's palm again. He had begun to shave me, the small trail of hair on my belly, and the bush around my cock. I recognized numbly the spell work in the blade. It would ensure hair never again grew from where he cut it.

But it wasn't all he would cut.

Male sex slaves were gelded. Like animals.

A practice I had ended in the castle as quietly as I could— something my father had never discovered.

"Gods," my father finished with a great deal of amusement and fervor. "How I have longed every day of your life to say those words."

"Your majesty," Butcger muttered. "The Warlord seemed a bit... fond of that bit of anatomy on your... on the prince, don't you agree? Are you sure you should—"

"— Silence," my father growled, jerking his head at the Akaran. And all at once I understood. The Akaran was there to keep me from running from my fate, but also to keep me safe for the Warlord. And my father guessed, rightly if the Akaran's almost kind actions towards me while I was prepared as a slave for his master were taken into account, that the Warlord wouldn't want me gelded.