The Prince and the Pleasurehouse

Chapter 12 – Guardians

Dominus Vel Sura wore a smile of grim satisfaction as he contemplated the sight across his desk. Argos, the red-haired Phallicus was bent close to the surface, his hands bracing himself against it while the Crown Prince thrust his royally-large manhood deep into the lad’s bouncing ass. Each time Proteus’ hips slammed into Argos’ butt, the cheeks jiggled delightfully.

The Prince himself cut an impressive figure – taller and broader than ordinary men, his supremely-sculpted physique flexed and tightened hypnotically as he worked Argos’ body. The Phallicus let out the occasional small cry as sensations and sweat rushed through his senses, but despite the intimidating girth of Proteus’ shaft, Argos had the widest, shit-eating grin on his face as he took the lord’s pounding.

A knock at the door had Sura quickly pretend to be scribbling on some paperwork, instead of ogling the display like a schoolboy. Proteus never slowed his pace as men returning from various errands began to pour into the office.

First Caton entered, with the Master of Phallicus Olmir in tow. Olmir’s status as a Vulcan Bloodline made him relevant to the recent targeting of Sura’s Pleasurehouse. Caton smoothly returned to Sura’s right hand, simply raising an eyebrow at the carnal display (a rare compliment from the typically composed bodyman). Olmir blinked twice, chuckled quietly, and then immediately began watching closely for potential techniques, not attempting to conceal his own arousal.

Adrianus and Galen entered next, hand in hand. With a laugh and an encouraging shove, Galen pushed Adrianus towards Proteus. Tentatively, Adrianus pressed himself against Proteus’ back, slipping his hands under Proteus’ arms to rub his chest and hold him tightly. Proteus leaned back over one shoulder to share a kiss which quickly deepened, and moved one hand back to grasp Adrianus’ butt and pull him closer, grinding Adrianus’ hard cock into the cleft of his cheeks.

By the time that Namor and Kanaan returned, with Dardanio following and Pindaro (still tied at the wrists and ankles, and thrown over Kanaan’s massive shoulder), Proteus was climaxing, pumping his hot seed deep into Argos, while Adrianus kissed Proteus and fingered his hole.

“Aaaahhh.” Proteus sighed pleasurably. “Perfect timing! Everyone’s back.” He patted Argos on the ass gently and pulled out with a slurp. Argos moaned, his legs wobbling, and he slid slowly to the floor. Adrianus knelt down next to him to help. “Pindaro’s not dead yet then?”

“No, your highness.” Dardanio assured him. “With a crime as foul and treasonous as his, we intended his death to be long and…unpleasant.”

“How fortunate for you, Pindaro, that these men believe in balancing the scales.” Galen growled.

Room was quickly made and Pindaro dumped unceremoniously into a chair. Dardanio and Namor held his arms behind him while Kanaan loomed darkly in the background, his red-gleaming eyes ever watchful for deceit. The man in the chair, while by no means shrimpish, looked small in comparison with the sexed-up studs surrounding him. Caton brought him a glass of water, which he drank in one quaff.

Proteus squared off with Pindaro, not getting too close. “You’ve escaped an ugly death, Pindaro, but only because you might…might be useful to me. A young man was taken from this building within the last 24 hours, by Shadow Division.”

At the name, Pindaro became utterly still and seemed to tense greatly. “Please…no…”

Proteus brushed onward, “You will tell me everything you know of these events. Or you will return to your prolonged, undignified demise.”

“I’m already dead, if I talk!” Pindaro spat. “If Shadow Division is here there’s no way they’ll let me live. If one agent got in, there’s another one already here. There’s always a redundancy policy.”

Sura tugged quietly on Caton’s sleeve. “Re-schedule any remaining appointments for the next two days, and take the House into security lockdown immediately. And I’ll want to address the men when this is done.” Caton nodded and swept silently from the room.

Proteus crouched, looking directly into Pindaro’s eyes. “You know my power as Prince Primus. I can match that of any of my lesser brothers. If I offer you protection, will you take it, and help us burn away these shadows?”

Pindaro looked agonized. Backed into a corner as he was, his eyes darted between each of the men around him, his mouth opening and closing with no sound. It was a moment before Namor could feel him shaking…

“Something’s wrong.” Namor said. “He’s not-”

Pindaro’s entire body began to tremble as sweat broke out on his brow and choking noises began to escape his tightly clenched throat. He was slowly turning red.

“He’s been poisoned!” Galen shouted. “Vel! Vel, do something!” But Sura was backing away, wide-eyed, seemingly stunned into silence. Dardanio jumped to fetch water from the pitcher on a table nearby, but Olmir smashed the pitcher first. “This could be what poisoned him in the first place.”

Namor helped Pindaro down to the floor, trying to keep him awake. “Pindaro, look at me. Pindaro, where did they take the boy? Where is Lyre?”

Between coughs and gurgling, Pindaro was gasping for air. “gghghg…always…redundancy…nngngn…Medusa…is…coming…” But after that he broke off, gagging and choking until his struggling finally stilled, and the room fell into deathly silence. It was only broken when Namor punched the floor angrily, standing up and facing the circular walls.

“Well the damage is done. Shadow Division cut off their leak.” Adrianus muttered.

“Yeah, right in front of us!” Galen shouted. “They’re clearly not afraid – that could’ve been any of us. That could’ve been you, Proteus!”

Proteus frowned. “It was meant for me to see. You think it was in the water?”

“It was the only thing he drank.” Dardanio remembered. “But it’s smashed now, we’ll never know for sure.”

Olmir shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, I just panicked and acted without thinking.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Olmir.” Argos comforted, to which Galen snorted. “How do you know? It could’ve been any one of us in here! Anyone could’ve done it.”

Kanaan put a hand on Proteus’ shoulder, firmly. “Palace.” he intoned. Adrianus nodded. “Kanaan’s right, it’s not safe in the House anymore. We have to get you back to the Palace.”

“But what about Shadow Division?” Namor turned. “What about saving Lyre?”

Proteus approached Namor and kissed him gently. “We will find him. I can use my access at the Palace to find out where the Division is holding him, and then we’ll go get him together. Adrianus is right. I must return to the Palace. Something’s wrong about all of this…I fear my brothers move against me. I must be ready to counter their plans.”

“What should we do, your highness?” Dominus Sura asked, still very pale.

“Find the killer.” Proteus assured him, beginning to pull on his scattered clothing. “That should give you some trail to follow. And have someone you trust screen the rest of your employees for connections to Shadow Division. Stay closed until I return. I will not be long.”

Prince Proteus swept out of the door, followed by Galen, Kanaan, and Adrianus, who shared one quiet look of support with Namor before leaving.

Dominus Sura was left in his office with Namor, Olmir, Dardanio, and Argos. The heated mood of carnality in the room had abruptly faded into chilling insecurity. He sighed heavily. “The four of you help get this body to one of the secret rooms, and then stay there. Speak to no one. I do not want to think that any of you had a hand in this…this…terrifying act. In the meantime, I must assemble the staff for a grave discussion. Dark times are ahead.”

The four Phallicus men intoned, “Dominus,” in unison before setting about their task.

Meanwhile…

Lyre awoke in a stone cell. Three walls were dark gray, dry, and rough to the touch. He was lying on a long stone slab, dressed in a simple gray loincloth. He shivered slightly, missing the feel of the smooth, soft golden robe of the Pleasurehouse on his skin.

There was a drain basin to piss in, a separate trough with fresh running water, and one other slab – unoccupied. The fourth wall of the room was regularly spaced with metallic bars – close enough that he couldn’t slip through, but wide enough that he could reach an arm through up to his shoulder. That was something.

From what he could see of the hallway, there were smooth stone walls, the same gray color, except for a red number three painted at about chest height. To his left there was more hallway, and he assumed more cells, though he couldn’t see them. To his right there was a door, very out of place in their surroundings.

The door was entirely white metal, brushed to appear pristine. It had a single window, only big enough for a pair of eyes to peer through, and a keypad on the right side. As he watched, the door chirped electronically and slid open, allowing a guard to step through.

The guard was clothed in a tightly cut black uniform armor, with red insignia on the breast and at the shoulders marking his presumed rank. His face was concealed by a helmet, and his arms were bare, except for finely-worked leather bracers at the wrists. His waist was slim, with a tight studded belt, over some variety of black gladiatorial skirt – studded leather straps that allowed him great freedom of movement in combat.

It must also afford him great freedom for his cock and balls, thought Lyre. The kilt came just to mid-thigh, and Lyre fancied he might even see the shadow of what lurked beneath.

His calves and feet were bound with thin leather laces of sandals. The guard also had a sheathed weapon on his hip that Lyre couldn’t see fully, and was carrying a tray of food. This could be an opportunity to learn about where he was.

“Step back from the bars.” the guard said sharply. Lyre complied, backing all the way to the far wall of his cell. The guard unlocked the cell door, sliding it open, and depositing the food tray on Lyre’s sleeping slab.

“Please, can you tell me where I am?” Lyre ventured. The guard grinned.

“You’re home, pretty boy. You better make this your home, because prisoners of Shadow Division rarely leave.”

So he was in an organization called Shadow Division’s holding cells. His mind raced, but he had to play his one and only card.

“You know where they took me from? The Capitol Pleasurehouse.” Lyre suggested lightly. When the guard paused, Lyre knew that he might have a chance. “That’s right. I’m…a Phallicus. The youngest Phallicus ever, trained in the erotic arts.”

“Please.” the guard chuckled. “All young men know how to handle their cocks. What’s so special about you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lyre shot back, grinning, stepping forward slowly. “You certainly can’t take your eyes off my body.”

And this was true. The guard seemed frozen with indecision and lust as he stared at Lyre’s smooth muscular build, a twenty-two year old blonde athlete with only a loincloth draped across the V of his lithe hips. The guard stepped back hesitantly, then took off his helmet. He had short, brown hair, messy from the helmet, and a light dusting of stubble on his chin.

“You would…have sex with me?” he ventured.

Lyre smirked, purring, “What we would do would be so much more than just sex.”

The cute guard still looked unsure, but his cheeks blushed a little. “I’ve never…uh…never been with a man before.”

Lyre continued forward until they were inches apart. “Take your chance, then. Touch me.” And he took the guard’s hands gently and placed them on his chest and side, leaning in for a soft kiss. The guard seemed hesitant at first, but then kissed back intensely, his hands roving all over Lyre’s tight, exposed skin. He put both hands on Lyre’s buttocks and squeezed tightly, eliciting a soft groan. Lyre nibbled his ear, and then whispered, “See, you know what to do. Now let me show you some things that I know.”

Pressing the guard’s back against the stone wall, Lyre sank down and sifted through the gladiator kilt until he was gripping the guard’s hardening cock. He stroked it gently, feeling its radiant heat pulsing against his hand, all soft skin and hard manhood in the most delectable paradox of nature.

Ducking his head beneath the straps, he nipped and licked around the guard’s thighs and spent several minutes suckling his balls, extracting a soft gasp from the guard above him, who nevertheless gently placed his hands on the back of Lyre’s blonde head. Only when he had the guard’s shaft slick with pre-cum and dripping did he finally take him into his mouth.

Lyre used every trick at his disposal, stroking the man’s thighs and tugging at his balls. The guard was loving every moment of attention and every detail, until Lyre’s finger brushed against his hole lightly.

“Whoa! Whoa there, I uh…I don’t know if I want…that.” he said, pulling Lyre up from his cock suddenly. Lyre took the opportunity to breathe, and grinned anyway. “Alright then. We’ll only do as you say. I won’t touch you there…but you can touch me there…and do much more besides.”

The guard scoffed, incredulous. “You want me to fuck you?”

Lyre seized the guard’s erect mast once again, now slicked with his own saliva. The guard yelped in surprise and pleasure. “Yes. Yes I do want you to fuck me with your hot, big manhood. I need you inside me. Don’t hold back.”

The guard licked his lips breathlessly. “Okay.”

Lyre took his hand and led the way over to one of the slabs, where he bent himself over, bracing his hands against the wall. The guard stepped up behind him, brushing his own kilt aside and tearing off Lyre’s thin loincloth to take hold of his own cock. Then, with a smooth wet glide, he slid himself deep into Lyre’s ass.

“Oh, fuck!” the guard shuddered. “Fuck yeah. You’re so tight.”

“Alright, now, show me what you got in those big balls, stud. Fill me.”

His gladiatorial kilt spread over them both, the guard slowly began to fuck Lyre, with more and more confidence. He adjusted his stance to gain a more powerful drive and held Lyre’s sides with both hands to truly get a stronger thrust as he pulled out and in. For some men, even sexual novices, a man’s primal instincts for carnality kick in, and he knows exactly how best to fuck whatever hole he’s given. The guard had that primal knack, and soon Lyre was groaning and crying out as the guard’s bestial rhythm continued. Their combined sounds echoed through the hallway.

If only Namor could see me now, Lyre thought, the student becoming a teacher.

Having been worked over by Lyre’s talented tongue, it wasn’t long before the guard was panting, “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m going to cum, I- where do you want me to- oh fuuuuuuuuck.”

Lyre, truly lost in his enjoyment of the guard’s handiwork, gasped, “Come on, baby, give me your load, give it to me deep.”

The guard obediently untethered himself from holding back and power-fucked Lyre’s tight bubble ass until he was shooting his hot, ropy essence deep inside Lyre, probably the biggest load he’d ever shot. Lyre groaned as it filled him, and then again when the guard pulled out. Both of them were panting.

“Holy fuck, that was incredible. What about you?” the guard asked. “Did you get off?”

“Working on it.” Lyre grinned happily, sitting and stroking his own leaking cock.

The guard looked at Lyre’s aching manhood, then hesitantly asked, “Can I try?”

Lyre’s smile widened and he shifted his hips forward. “Be my guest. But watch out, I’m very close.”

Taking a firm grip of the base, the guard looked at the cock in his hand with wonder, then lowered his mouth over the head. Lyre encouraged him softly. “Thhaaaaaaat’s it, yeah. Just do what you can, yeah, just like that, unnnh yeah.”

Lyre was barely holding back when the guard slipped a finger inside his hole tentatively flicking around. Lyre was so surprised he instantly came, crying out loudly as his young balls surged, shooting salty warm cum into the guard’s mouth.

The guard looked surprised but pleased and gulped dutifully as Lyre fed him his seed. He smacked his lips appreciatively. “That was…amazing. Addictive. Did I do a good job?”

“Holy fuck, yeah. When you fingered me, I lost all control.”

The guard winked, licking his lips again. “I guessed that’s what you were going to do to me before. Wanted to see what it would’ve done. Now I know…but I uh…I’ve gotta get back on my rounds.”

With a look of regret, he picked up his helmet and straightened his kilt. After he closed the door, he whispered, “I’ll come back though.” He punched a code into the keypad and was gone.

Lyre let himself collapse, satisfied physically, and knowing that he might not be permanently trapped down here after all – with an interested, hot ally like the cute guard.

To be continued...