His Whipping Boy

By J.A. Jaken

Cedric de Breos was an average son from an average farmer’s family before he was chosen—by royal decree—to befriend Alain Tomolia, the solemn and enigmatic crown prince of Dunn. As Cedric dutifully pursues their strange friendship, he begins to suspect that Alain is haunted by a dark secret, one which has its roots sunk deep in the crown prince’s past. Cedric’s situation is complicated by the gradual realization that his intended purpose is not only to serve as companion to the crown prince but also as his surrogate in the whipping yard, taking the punishment for Alain’s misdeeds. Will Cedric find a way to come to terms with the resentment, pity, curiosity, and reluctant attraction he feels toward the crown prince, or will he allow the circumstances around them to command their fate?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.A. Jaken
• Release date: May 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780986233067

J.A. Jaken

J.A. Jaken has been writing fictional stories and novels for more than ten years, most frequently in the fantasy and science fiction genres. She got her start in the profession writing slash fanfiction, where she has published numerous stories under the pen-name Rushlight. Over the years she has written short stories and novels in genres ranging from science fiction/fantasy to gothic horror to modern detective mysteries, most with at least a touch of m/m romance to them. She lives at home in the southwestern U.S. with her college-aged son, a cat, and the family Rottweiler. Outside of writing, her interests include studying foreign languages, practicing martial arts, riding horses, and collecting medieval weaponry.

Book preview

Cedric de Breos was an average son from an average farmer’s family before he was chosen—by royal decree—to befriend Alain Tomolia, the solemn and enigmatic crown prince of Dunn. As Cedric dutifully pursues their strange friendship, he begins to suspect that Alain is haunted by a dark secret, one which has its roots sunk deep in the crown prince’s past. Cedric’s situation is complicated by the gradual realization that his intended purpose is not only to serve as companion to the crown prince but also as his surrogate in the whipping yard, taking the punishment for Alain’s misdeeds. Will Cedric find a way to come to terms with the resentment, pity, curiosity, and reluctant attraction he feels toward the crown prince, or will he allow the circumstances around them to command their fate?

His Whipping Boy

J.A. Jaken

White Owl Publishing

www.jajaken.com

Copyright 2019 J.A. Jaken

Smashwords Edition

DISCLAIMER

This book is a work of fiction which contains explicit erotic content; it is intended for mature readers. Do not read this if it’s not legal for you.

All the characters, locations and events herein are fictional. While elements of existing locations or historical characters or events may be used fictitiously, any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental.

This story is not intended to be used as an instruction manual. It may contain descriptions of erotic acts that are immoral, illegal, or unsafe. Do not take the events in this story as proof of the plausibility or safety of any particular practice.

Contents

Disclaimer

1. Beginnings

2. Introspection

3. Walking the Edge

4. Reflection

5. Punishment

6. Whipping Boy

About the Author

Connect with J.A. Jaken

Other books by this author

Chapter 1

Beginnings

It wasn’t so much that he minded the pain. The feel of the whipcord cutting into the skin of his back was almost familiar now, although he never really got used to it. Thin, silver-hot slivers of pain were etched into his skin like meticulously scripted words in an alien language, ancient and unfathomable. Sometimes—sometimes—he thought he could almost understand what they were trying to tell him. As if it were a language written for his understanding alone.

No, it wasn’t the pain. It was the shame of it, the knowledge of eyes watching him, silently appraising, silently judging. Enjoying his tears. He could never get used to that. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many promises he made to himself, he always cried.

Always.

Afterward, as he lay bleeding on his low cot, he’d stare out the window of his small tower room and stare down into the castle courtyard, thinking about the life he’d left behind. He’d think of things like water wheels and auburn tresses and an ocean of drifting wheat turning golden beneath the sun. The sky was always blue when he remembered it, a pale, soft hue that reminded him of his youngest sister’s eyes the day she’d been born.

Inevitably, his thoughts would turn to the day the Thane’s entourage had come for him, there in the middle of a lazy summer afternoon on his father’s farm. They’d looked like gods to him, sitting tall on their strange, delicate horses, adorned in richly colored embroidery worked into finest pale silk. The leader of the group, introduced to him only as The Captain, had a thick blue cloak so rich and dark he’d expected to see stars winking within it. The man’s eyes were pale grey, bright and sharp and cold.

The prince, it seemed, was in need of a new companion, since his last had died in an unfortunate riding accident only the week before. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been all that surprising when the money changed hands; his parents, for all that they loved him, were practical people. And he was bound to have a much better life in the Thane’s castle than they could provide for him. He’d be educated, and he’d never have to worry about not having enough to eat when the seasons turned hard. There were seven children in his family, and it wasn’t always easy finding food to feed them all.

Cedric, his father had told him, resting one large hand on his shoulder and looking straight into his eyes. You’re sixteen years old, a man grown now. It’s time you start making your own way in the world. There had been tears in his mother’s eyes.

And so he’d gone, sitting in front of The Captain on his tall white horse. The Captain’s chest felt warm and solid against his back, arms like iron bands where they pressed against his sides to hold the reins; the air smelled like dust and sweat and summer heat, thick with the musk of horses and the saltier, unfamiliar tang of steel. Cedric looked back at the farmhouse that had been home to him his entire life, saw the looks of sadness and subdued hope on the faces of his family where they’d gathered to see him off, then turned forward, vowing not to look