A prince enslaved

Nemo me impune lacessit: No one provokes me with impunity. Would that I had heeded the inscription upon the shield of the mighty Achilles, then might my fate have been different. The gods willed otherwise. No doubt you have heard the legends of how the thrice-blessed Achilles, son of the immortal gods, sailed with King Agamemnon’s thousand ships to recapture the fair Helen, the most beautiful woman that ever lived. Yes, I stole Helen from Greece, brought her to Troy, and this is my fate. Not a fate you will find recounted in your books, for it is a fate too dark to be recorded in written words. Your scholars shun the truth; find it hard to accept the ways of our ancient world. Read on if you dare, believe what you will, it matters little to me. I am bound to serve Achilles for all eternity and naught can change that.

I did not fear Achilles when his ships beached upon our shores. The gods decreed that he might not be killed by mortal swordsmen, but I am no swordsman. I, Paris, Prince of Troy, am the finest archer that ever lived: firing an arrow into Achilles’ one weak spot, that vulnerable heel by which his mother held him when he was dipped into the waters of immortality held no difficulty for me. Let Achilles challenge the warriors of Troy to combat if he dare: I could defeat him. Or so I thought. It does not pay to challenge the gods, they defend their own.  I know that now, to my great cost.

The gods did not favour me upon that fateful day.  The mighty Achilles, clad in armour wrought in volcanic fires by the god Hephaestus himself, was the first of the Greeks to leap from their ships. Fearless, he stormed the beach and slaughtered many of our finest warriors. I held my ground, waiting the moment when a clear shot might send a deadly arrow deep into Achilles’ heel. In vain I waited: no arrow could pierce that god wrought armour, nor could mortal man ever slip past Achilles’ faithful guard and shield bearer, Patroklos, and strike that one point which would end Achilles’ days. Wherever Achilles fought, there by his side was his cousin Patroklos, a youth closer than kin.

My arrows were of no use against a son of gods. Twice I drew my bow and struck his shield, twice the arrows failed to penetrate. A third shaft bounced cleanly off the bronze greaves that guarded his ankles: Patroklos with his own shield struck down my fourth from the very air itself.

Nor was that the least of my woes upon that fateful morn. Hard pressed on all sides, my valiant Trojan warriors were forced back unto the very gates of Troy by those Greek hordes, leaving me alone, isolated there upon the Scaean Plain. First abandoned by the gods, now I was left by my own comrades. Seeing my fate, Patroklos raced forth from the Greek masses and seized me as his prisoner, dragging me off into captivity. I feared for my life: now I know that the gods had deemed death too good an end for me. I fought, and fought hard, but I was no match for the mighty Patroklos, second only in strength and skill at arms to Achilles himself. 

Bloodied and without hope of salvation, I was hauled from the field of war, dragged far from my beloved Troy and stripped of my bow, my sword, my armour. Once a Prince of Troy, famed for wealth and power, now I was a mere captive, a slave to be bought and sold, to be used and abused as he wished, by Achilles himself.

Yes, used and abused. That is the way of the Greeks, and Achilles, as befits his status, was foremost amongst all. My hands bound, I was dragged by Patroklos to Achilles’ tent, presented as gift to his lover. The Greeks around scorned and jeered, they knew my fate. I had taken Helen, now Achilles would take me.

My struggles were useless. Once within the tent that Achilles and Patroklos shared, I was handed over to the watchful care of two of Achilles’ servants, Leitus and Gavan, mere boys in most men’s eyes but warriors proven in many a battle. These beautiful, slender youths, chosen as much for their looks as their fighting prowess, never once let me from their sight, offered no hope of respite. It was clear to me that my fate would be to spend my life as they did, serving mighty Achilles, doing his every bidding, my body a mere possession that he would use at will.

Patroklos returned, stripped of his armour, his body half naked, revealing the muscular physique of a true warrior. Laughing with the boys, he grabbed my hands, forced me to my feet, pushed me forward to the inner chamber where Achilles himself was waiting. A sharp blow from Leitus to the back of my legs knocked me to my knees once more. For a moment no-one spoke, then Patroklos stepped forward, kissed Achilles tenderly on the lips and turned to the boys.  “A gift my lord, Paris, Prince of Troy. See how are the mighty fallen.”

Achilles laughed, then nodded to Leitus and Gavan. “Strip him.”  The two stepped forward, naked but for their sword belts, their cocks erect in anticipation of the events to come. Firm hands grabbed hold of my tunic, ripping it apart, allowing it to fall at my feet. I stood naked before them. There was a moment’s silence and then Leitus reached out and grabbed hold of my cock, squeezing it hard, dragging me forward towards Achilles’ bed. 

“Look at the size of this dick,” he said, “no wonder Helen left Greece. It’s huge. It seems it is true what they say about Trojan men, and our prince here looks to be the best of them all.” He continued to squeeze my cock, his strong fingers expertly grasping my soft length as his thumb rubbed over the sensitive tip, stimulating it. Despite the pain, the humiliation of being paraded naked before Achilles, my cock began to stiffen. As Achilles and Patroklos watched, Leitus and Gavan began to explore my body, rubbing their hands over me, seeking to stimulate me, to make me ready for Achilles to use as he pleased. Every effort I made to twist away, to pull back from their wandering hands, was met by a savage tightening of the hand that Leitus kept firmly clamped around my cock and balls, a searing pain being the only reward for my struggles. Gavan mocked me, his hands caressing my arse as he smirked and pressed his own hard, six-inch boy cock tight against my thighs. “This might be smaller than your dick,” he said, “but it will fill your holes well enough.”

Leitus pushed me to my knees, turned me to face Gavan, held my head tight against his groin. Gavan rammed his cock, warm and stiff, deep into my throat, thrusting hard and fast, fucking my mouth. Leitus’s hand on my balls, his knife at my back, ensured that I kept my mouth open, that I allowed the young stud to do as he wanted to me. It didn’t take him long to cum, his young cock shooting his creamy spunk into my mouth. Gavan continued to thrust his cock into me as he cried out in pleasure. I choked and coughed, gagging on his dick, realising I must swallow if I were not to choke. That day I tasted sperm and humiliation for the first time.

Laughing, Leitus dragged me to my feet once more. “So, Paris, Prince of Troy, kneels before a mere Greek boy. What good now your title? Or this ?” He squeezed my cock once more, mocking its erect length. His own cock was hard, curving upwards, some seven inches perhaps of potent lust. He wanted my arse, wanted to plunge his dick deep into me, to take me for his own. He would too, I knew that, but the first to do so would be Achilles. Denied that pleasure, Leitus shoved me across the floor, throwing me upon the bed where naked Achilles lay, watching, laughing at my humiliation, my discomfort. My fear. As I waited for what was to come next, Leitus sneered and knelt down before the bed, pulling Gavan to him, sucking on his cock, taking the last of his sperm into his mouth.

Achilles sat up, the fire’s glow illuminating his muscular body. Slowly, gently, he reached out and took hold of my cock, gazing up into my face with eyes like fiery emeralds. Patroklos looked on eagerly as Achilles held my cock beside his own, studied them, smiled again. There was no malice in his eyes. He continued to look at my cock, comparing its stiff nine-inch length with his own, shorter dick. His eyes blazed once more, evoking new feelings deep within me. This was not the Achilles I had feared, the man I had expected mercilessly to fuck me, the man I expected to plunge his cock deep into my virgin arse, to rape me in front of the others.

“Fuck me.”

The words resounded around my head. “Fuck me.”  I could not believe what I was hearing. Achilles, the mighty Achilles, was asking me to fuck him. No, not asking. There was no begging in that voice. He was ordering me to fuck him. For a moment I stood there, confused, bewildered, as Achilles rolled back onto the bed and spread his legs.  Before I could move, Patroklos leaped forward and grabbed my arms, forcing me onto the bed between Achilles’ powerful thighs. “Fuck him, Trojan, give him your cock. Now !”  Leitus’s hand was at my neck again, the cold bronze of his knife pressed to my back. “Do it, Prince of Troy, fuck him ! Make him feel that Trojan cock.”

I reached out, looking into Achilles eyes, saw the desire burning deep in them. Well, if he wanted Trojan cock he would get it, but on my terms. He wouldn’t get to see me, wouldn’t look into my eyes and mock me as I fucked him. Taking him by the shoulders, I rolled him over, pushed his face down onto the bed. Achilles gasped, raised his arse, spread his legs. My cock was hard, 9 inches of stiff Trojan flesh, ready to make him squirm with pain. I lunged forward, driving my cock between his arse cheeks, thrusting deep into his hole in a single, violent stroke. Achilles cried out, his whole body tensing, wracked with pain and pleasure as I began to fuck him. All the anger pent up within me, the fear, the humiliation of my defeat, of being stripped naked, of being forced to suck Gavan’s cock, channelled through me, drove me into a frenzy of fucking. Yes, Achilles would feel Trojan cock. I rammed into him, hard and deep, ever faster, feeling his arse tighten around my hard throbbing length as I screwed him.

Beneath me, Achilles cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure, driving back onto my furious dick, his powerful body delighting in the violation he was experiencing. Patroklos, his cock being worked by Leitus and Gavan in turn, watched in awe, relishing the sight of his gift to Achilles being so well received. I continued to pound away at the Greek arse, thrusting ever deeper, making the mighty Achilles writhe beneath my onslaught. His cries and moans filled the tent, must have been clearly audible to the masses of troops outside. They would hear the mighty Achilles skewered by Trojan cock.

We fucked for what seemed like an eternity, the demi-god’s perfect physique impaled on my cock, crying out in pain and passion. I felt my balls tighten, knew I was about to cum. Yes, let him do to me as he would, Achilles now was to take Trojan sperm deep inside him. With a cry of victory almost drowning out his own passion, I came deep within him, a torrent of hot Trojan sperm filling his arse, flooding him, leaking out alongside my shaft with my last few thrusts, splattering over his arse.

Exhausted, I collapsed at the base of his bed, tangled in the single silken sheet that covered it. Achilles, freed from my pounding, rolled over, lay on his back. His eyes looked into mine, burning into my heart. There was magic within their fire. For a moment he said nothing, then he turned to face Leitus and smiled. “He’s yours. Take him and fuck him…” As Leitus and Gavan scrambled forward and dragged me to their quarters, eager to satisfy their lusts, I turned and saw Patroklos and Achilles locked in a passionate embrace on that same bed. Achilles was well satisfied and now Patroklos would receive his reward.  Moments later, in the side chamber which served as the quarters for the two boys, I was bent forward, my hands tied to an iron post and my legs spread…

* * *

So now you know the true story of my fall, how I was taken by the Greeks on the Scaean Plain and humiliated by them. Once a noble prince, proud son of Priam, King of Troy, now I am condemned by the gods to live as nothing more than a slave, naked and chained. My fate for violating the laws of hospitality and seducing the fair Helen is to serve the mighty Achilles for all eternity, pleasuring him at will, being used by his boys whenever they desire.

fuit Ilium…