Plundering The Prince (m/m BDSM multiple partners)

By Isla Sinclair

King Anton rules an interstellar federation, but only intense sexual submission can satisfy him. Then Anton and his dominant lover, Counsellor Jurian, visit a planet where public sensual encounters are as common as a handshake.

The men of the planet Letensar are masters of sexual hospitality. Anton's submissive cravings leave him helpless to resist their invitation to a night of manhandling and debauchery. He is passed from one powerful man to the next, used continuously and subjected to erotic distress. Meanwhile, a fellow submissive seduces both him and his master with beauty and pleasure...

This sizzling tale of multiple-partner decadence features BDSM, bondage, sadism and masochism, and public sex.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Isla Sinclair
• Release date: Dec 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311806529

Isla Sinclair

Isla Sinclair writes femdom, m/m, bisexual, lesbian, and menage erotic romance. Gentle dominant lovers, cruel sci-fi queens, beautiful boys doing beautiful dirty sexy things, and plucky, kinky schoolgirls populate her stories. A bisexual redhead with a vivid imagination, Isla lives in western Canada with her dashing partner, a very silly kitten, and a stable of hot fictional men on their knees.To be emailed when Isla publishes a new book, subscribe to Author Alerts on her Smashwords profile, drop her a line at [e-mail], or follow her on Twitter @IslaSinclair. Comments and reviews welcome, anywhere!

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Plundering The Prince

by Isla Sinclair

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Isla Sinclair

All Rights Reserved

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Plundering The Prince

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They're serious. Anton peered at Nerissa over the top of the message from the speaker of the United Letensi parliament. They actually want me to—

The letter had come on genuine old-fashioned paper, rolled into a scroll inside a case decorated in silver and gold, and borne to Anton's quarters at a very early hour this morning by a young man in livery. It certainly seemed serious.

The Aludran queen, resplendent in red and gold and an elaborate arrangement of her tightly-curled midnight hair, lounged back in the second chair of Anton's guest suite and flipped through her own gilt invitation. It's quite an honour for you to be asked. Her lips were twitching in prelude to a smile.

But public sex! With the 'gentlemen of complementary political concerns,' that means members of parliament. Heads of their political parties? They want me to get fucked by half a dozen men?

Now Nerissa was openly laughing. Oh, not half a dozen.

Anton took a breath. He couldn't tell if his heart was pounding from terror or anticipation. Oh, he said weakly. Good.

No, I should think if it's the planetary council—see, that's their seal on the documents—it means members of the cabinet. That's more like fifteen or twenty.

Anton could feel his jaw drop. He stared at her. No.

I'm sure you wouldn't have to actually have sex with all of them, Nerissa said airily. And the press won't take holos of the event itself. Just the formal assemblage of 'parties to the negotiation,' it says here. The part where you still have your clothes on.

Right, because it's so much better for the whole damn planet to know I'm going to get...sexually plundered...for this trade agreement.

Plundered? Nerissa's eyes were dancing. Goodness, Anton. I think you want to.

He didn't have Nerissa's dark skin, so it was pointless to try to hide the blush flaming up his cheeks. And you'll be, what, sipping tea with their president?

She sat up slightly straighter in her chair. We'll be finalizing the actual agreement, upstairs.

In the ancient diplomatic tradition as well? All those bodies. He couldn't stop thinking of it. All those men with their strong arms and hard bodies, touching him and holding him down and—

Mmm. Nerissa gave a small noncommital shrug. President Sannel is a lovely woman. Remember, Letensar was founded by people from an ancient city-state on Earth where it was only good manners to offer sensual refreshment to guests. I'm sure the president won't want to be rude.

All those bodies...big hands and rough handling...

Anton cleared his throat. What, um, what about Jurian?

Nerissa scanned her copy of the letter again, looking thoughtful. From where he paced at the opposite side of the room Anton could see the fancy calligraphy mentioning his royal highness King Anton of the Aludran Stellar Federation and Queen Nerissa, but his own letter had made no mention of any other members of their diplomatic party.

It doesn't say. The twinkle was back in her eye. Maybe you should ask him.

Oh, right. Ask your lover, twice your age, who technically worked for you but with whom you were actually engaged in the sort of torrid affair that involved you hungrily sucking him off while he said deliciously filthy things in your ear—just ask him what he thought of you getting fucked by an entire foreign planetary council.

Anton swallowed.

Nerissa smiled. Maybe he'll want to join in.

***

Counsellor Jurian was ensconced behind a desk when Anton found him in his corner of the diplomatic suites. It amazed him how the man could make anything from a heavy wooden desk to a cheap foldout camp table look imposing, as long as he sat behind it.

The pepper in Jurian's hair was beginning to be outnumbered by salt, but he was still hale and square-built, a little shorter than Anton's trim frame and every broad inch the gruff elder statesman. He held an e-pad in one blunt hand, frowning slightly at the contents. He didn't stir from his concentration when Anton entered the room, but as Anton came to a halt before the desk he spoke. You're going to do it, then, are you?

There was just a touch of dark smoke to Jurian's voice. Anton pressed his sweating palms against his uniform trousers and tried to calm his racing heart. He had no idea how Jurian had found out, but somehow he wasn't surprised.

I— Anton cleared his throat. It seems required of me, sir.

At this Jurian looked up. You've come to ask my permission? Or to tell me lurid tales of your willing debauchery in the line of duty?

He felt Jurian's gaze on him keenly, and he still couldn't tell if the man approved of Anton joining in an orgy or not. The line between master and counsellor was sometimes hard to negotiate. As much as he wanted Jurian to care whether he went off to be fucked by other men, there was always the chance Jurian would disapprove, or, worse, might think a diplomatic engagement was none of his business.

I've always found you in favour of seeing me luridly debauched, sir. Anton slouched a little from his ramrod straight pose, tucked his hands behind his back and ducked his head like a schoolboy called in for judgement. It was a pose that had earned him a thorough rogering only last week—papers swept hastily from the desk, clothes shoved aside just enough for him to be fucked, Jurian's hand tight on the back of his neck.

It seemed Jurian was remembering the same thing. His mouth twitched in a half-smile. And if I said no, boy?

The pet name—never uttered except between them in