Princely Submission by K.C. Wells

Chapter Nine

Jordan was shaking. “You can’t do this.”

Stuart sighed as he sat on the chair. “What pains me is that I didn’t want to be in this position, but you forced my hand.” He gazed at Jordan. “You’ve gotten away with so much the last few years, haven’t you? Because you knew nothing would happen. You knew there would be no consequences. Well, I am not your father, Jordan. If I say I’ll do something, I follow through. And if you only learn one thing from this episode, let it be that you can’t always get away with everything.” He gestured to his lap. “Get over my knee.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Don’t. Be a man, and accept your punishment. Once it’s done, it’s done. At least, it had better be. Because I really don’t want to have to do this again.”

Jordan walked over to him, but couldn’t bring himself to do as instructed. A wave of cold crashed over him.

“Do it, Jordan.”

Let’s get this over with.

He moved awkwardly, positioning himself across Stuart’s lap, his crotch resting against Stuart’s right thigh, his chest on the left, his hands reaching for the floor. Then Stuart grasped Jordan’s belt in one hand, and he tensed.

“How… how many spanks are there going to be?”

“We’ll be done when I think you’ve had enough.” A pause. “Ready?”

“No, but that’s not going to stop you, so just do it.”

Stuart’s hand landed on his ass, and his body jolted with the impact. Jordan whimpered, and Stuart bent over, his voice low. “You’re not going to call out or yell. Unless of course you want everyone to know what I’m doing.”

Jordan resolved not to give him the satisfaction.

Stuart resumed the spanking, alternating between his ass cheeks, settling into a rhythm.

God, it hurts. Except after a while, the thuds seemed to melt into each other, and the sting of each smack lessened. Now and then, Stuart paused, rubbing the area, but he soon lapsed back into his rhythm, only now he picked up a little speed, and the blows came faster.

It could have been worse. Stuart could have pulled his jeans and briefs down.

Stuart slowed, still alternating, and Jordan realized with horror that his dick was stiffening. Heat tingled in his face, and tremors rippled through him. Please, don’t let him notice. Jordan lost himself in the continuing thud of Stuart’s hands landing on his ass, the warmth blossoming there with each blow. Stuart picked up speed again, and Jordan knew he was working his way toward the finish line.

Then everything stopped, and he wanted to weep from the relief.

“Get up.” Stuart’s voice was softer than Jordan had expected. He stood, his legs shaking, his chest heaving, and Stuart helped him. He rose from the chair and gripped Jordan’s upper arms, gazing into his eyes. “That’s it. We’re done.”

Before he could stop himself, Jordan blurted out, “You’re wrong, you know.” He could hear a teary quality to his voice, and he pushed down hard. I will not cry.

Stuart stilled. “About what?”

He swallowed once more. “I don’t dislike you. And I really didn’t think you’d mind, once you knew where I was going.”

Stuart’s breathing hitched. “Tell me.”

Except Jordan couldn’t. Tears pricked his eyes as shame overwhelmed him, and his throat tightened.

Stuart’s eyes were compassionate. “Hey, it’s over.” He let go of Jordan, went over to the mini-bar, removed a bottle of water, and handed it to him. “Here, drink this.”

Jordan struggled to get his throat to work, but eventually he swallowed the cold liquid.

“I’d say sit down, but I’m not sure you can right now.”

Jordan winced involuntarily. “I think I’ll pass.” Stuart’s hand on his shoulder was a comfort.

“Now tell me. Where were you going?”

A long breath shuddered out of him. “I found three gay bars within walking distance of the hotel. I was going to check one of them out.”

Stuart frowned, but his voice was gentle. “You couldn’t have got in. You have to be twenty-one in the US to go to a bar.”

“But I am twenty-one,” he protested. “My birthday was last week.”

Stuart’s eyes widened. “No one mentioned it.”

“You noticed that too?” Jordan couldn’t keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice. “My father was busy with meetings; my mother was busy supporting my father… My birthday fell by the wayside.” He swallowed hard. “Is it so wrong that I yearned for the experience? I wasn’t going there to drink, I just wanted…”

“What did you want?”

Dear God, so much.

“My first kiss? My first dance?” And a lot more besides, but he wasn’t about to share that. Then he realized Stuart already knew.

“So when Plan A failed, you had Plan B to fall back on?” Stuart’s face fell. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? After the Drake episode, you had to know it wouldn’t exactly come as a shock.”

“It was… personal.”

A soft sigh fell from Stuart’s lips. “I get that, but—”

“I know. Consequences.” Jordan had no energy left to argue. “Can I go to bed now?”

Stuart nodded. “And we won’t mention this again. Because it’s not going to happen again. Because next time you want to do something like this, you’re going to ask first. Aren’t you?”

Jordan bit his lip. “Maybe?” Despite his stinging backside, he couldn’t resist a little poke. “But where would be the fun in that?”

Stuart sighed. “Go to bed, Jordan. Tomorrow we’ll do whatever you want, as it’s the last day here.”

He stilled. “Whatever I want?”

Stuart rolled his eyes. “Within reason. Now… bed.”

Jordan walked slowly into his bedroom and closed the door. He eased his jeans down past his hips, stepped out of them, and contorted himself in front of the mirror to get a look at his ass. Despite his jeans, his cheeks were still a warm red.

I think I’ll sleep on my stomach tonight.

What troubled him more was his physical reaction to the spanking. Yes, it had been humiliating, it had hurt, but Jordan couldn’t ignore his hard cock.

Am I a pervert because I liked it?

“What are your plans for today?” the queen asked as they finished breakfast.

Stuart smiled. “So far we don’t have any. I’m leaving the choice up to Jordan.”

She regarded her son for a moment. “You seem tired, Jordan. Didn’t you sleep well?”

“Not really.”

Jordan’s face was drawn, and Stuart wondered if the spanking had been the cause of his sleepless night. There had been no time for conversation that morning: both of them had woken late, and had hurried to arrive on time. “We don’t have to do anything,” Stuart suggested. “It’s the ball this evening, so if you want, we can take it easy today. I have a couple of ideas we can discuss. Unless you have something in mind?”

“I’ll think about it.” Jordan stood. “I’ll be in my room.” He kissed his mother on the cheek, nodded to his father, then left the suite.

Stuart wiped his lips with the napkin, and stood.

“Mr. Whitmore, would you stay a while, please?” King Ludomir glanced at his wife, and she got up from the table.

“I’ll see you at the ball,” she said as she went to the doorway that led to their bedroom.

The king stood, walked over to the door, and closed it. He gestured to the meeting table. “Please, sit down.”

Stuart had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Is there a problem?” There was only one thing it could be—Jordan had told him about the spanking, and contrary to what Stuart had believed, King Ludomir wasn’t happy about it.

“That is what I am trying to ascertain.” The king pulled out the chair facing Stuart and sat. He clasped his hands on the table. “Is there a reason why you haven’t informed me about the man who tried to visit my son’s room?”

He blinked. “How did you know about that?”

“The receptionist informed Piotr, who in turn informed me. I am also told you had a conversation with this man before you sent him on his way.” King Ludomir narrowed his eyes. “So my son contacts somebody, with the purpose of inviting him to his room, and his bodyguard does not see fit to inform me of this.”

Stuart squared his shoulders. “I felt that doing so would betray a confidence.”

The king arched his eyebrows. “I am the one who is paying for your services. Surely your allegiance is to me.”

“Yes of course, but if informing you reveals something your son does not want you to know—something I have no right to share about him—then I’m conflicted.”

King Ludomir sighed. “I know I said I chose you because of your reputation. But… there was another reason.”

“Oh?”

“I asked Mr. Dietz not to reveal my request, but I wanted a bodyguard who would… understand my son. A bodyguard who would not react negatively to his… ways.”

Stuart began to see the light. “Ah.” He wondered just how much Matt had revealed.

“May we speak plainly?”

“Of course.”

The king took a drink from his water glass before speaking. “I have known for a while that my son prefers… men. Jordan has not spoken of this, and I have not brought the subject up.”

Stuart was dying to know if the king was okay with having a gay son, but it wasn’t his place to ask.

“When he was younger, I sought to protect him, and did my utmost to take temptation out of his path. I felt he was simply too young to know his own mind, which is probably yet another reason for his rebellion. But when he expressed an interest in accompanying us, I was… concerned.”

“Why?”

“One sees so much in the international media about hate crimes. People who are violently opposed to those who prefer same-sex relationships. I didn’t want him to have a bodyguard who shared those views, so I asked Mr. Dietz if my son would be safe with you.”

“You obviously liked his response.”

“Yes. You were already my first choice. Knowing you would not judge my son—indeed, that you would understand him—only confirmed that.”

King Ludomir’s words lit a hope in him. “May I speak plainly too?”

“Of course.”

Stuart drew in a deep breath. “There’s something I need to share with you. Jordan has tried to slip out of the hotel more than once. I think I’ve put a stop to that. But I did find out where he was trying to get to, at least on the last occasion. And that also explains why he wanted to be left to his own devices.”

“Tell me.”

“Your son had a birthday recently.”

The king frowned. “Yes. We would have celebrated it, except that I was mired in meetings. I had intended to delay the celebrations until we returned home.”

“Did you tell him that?” Stuart felt bold enough to ask.

The king became still. “No, I did not. He feels we have forgotten him, doesn’t he? I can’t blame him for that.”

“In this country, reaching the age of twenty-one is a particular milestone. It means that for the first time, he would be allowed in a bar.”

King Ludomir frowned. “I am not happy about him drinking alcohol. That was why I had the contents of the mini bar removed and—”

“I don’t believe for one minute that Jordan was going out to get drunk,” Stuart interjected. “I know, however, that he wanted to go to a gay bar, simply for the experience.”

“Oh.” The king stared at him. “That was his destination?”

Stuart nodded. “I caught up with him before he got the chance.”

King Ludomir leaned back in his chair. “May I ask a personal question?”

Stuart wondered what was coming. “You can ask.”

“Have you ever visited a gay bar, Mr. Whitmore?”

“Many times.”

The king nodded thoughtfully, and Stuart got the impression he wasn’t the least bit surprised by Stuart’s response. “Do you remember your first visit?”

Stuart grinned. “Oh yes. I was home on leave, and so excited at the prospect. Where I grew up, there was only one such place. Except it wasn’t really a gay bar, more of a gay-friendly bar. The sight of a rainbow flag above the door was enough to set my heart racing. I went there on my own, and my God, I was nervous.”

“Was it a positive experience?”

He coughed. “Not to go into any great detail, Your Majesty, but yes, it was.” There were some things not meant for sharing.

The king’s lips twitched. “I see. And do you think I should let him go to a bar?”

“I think it would be the best birthday gift you could ever give him. But I would go with him.”

King Ludomir stroked his lower lip. “Let me consider it for a while. I will give you my answer when I have thought on it.” Then he paused. “And the… guest who never made it as far as my son’s room? Should I be concerned about this? Or would a visit to a bar be sufficient to satisfy his… curiosity?”

“I promise there will be no more unscheduled visits,” Stuart declared. Jordan’s curiosity would have to go unsatisfied.

The king nodded. “Thank you for your candor, Mr. Whitmore.”

Stuart stood and bowed his head. “Your Majesty.” He left the room, his pulse racing. I tried, Jordan. It’s up to your father now. Not that Stuart would tell Jordan of their conversation. Why get his hopes up? If the king says no, it will only dash them.

Before he’d fallen asleep the previous night, several thoughts had occurred to him. Would Jordan really have had sex with Drake? How much of an experience did he want from a visit to a gay bar? A first kiss sounded innocent enough, but…

Stuart’s heart went out to Jordan. He was only twenty-one, but already he was locked into a life that would demand so much of him. For the first time, Stuart grasped Jordan’s motivation for accompanying his parents. It was a taste of freedom he would probably never experience again, a chance to live out his fantasies.

He needs protecting.

Stuart had already glimpsed Jordan’s vulnerability and innocence. He didn’t want to think of some guy seeing the need in him and taking advantage. Jordan deserved better than a stolen kiss in a bar. Someone needed to take their time kissing that sensual mouth, coaxing that lithe body to respond to intimate caresses.

Whoa there.

Stuart couldn’t afford to think of Jordan in those terms. Because that would be stepping into dangerous, unprofessional territory.