The Torture of Paris

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Troy. This is simply a work of the imagination.

The fumes from the burning city of Troy could be seen for miles around, the the way in Sparta. The acrid smell of burning flesh from the hundreds of dead bodies that littered the walkways of the small town. All within were dead, save one. Paris, Prince of Troy. Agamemnon and Menelaus, the new rulers of Troy, however, intended to see to it that he wished death upon himself.

The young prince was being kept in a small room inside the palace of King Priam, who was now dead as well. Helen of Sparta, the beautiful Queen, was also killed. None remained but Paris.

Menelaus and Agamemnon made their trek to the room Paris was locked in. They opened the heavy wooden door to see the young man tied at his wrists and ankles, gagged, and lying on the floor. There were no windows in the room from which he could escape. The two rulers had requested that he specially be put in a room such as this so that none could see what they would do to him.

Paris glared up at them, hate clouding his beautiful dark brown eyes. He had watched them murder Helen in cold blood, along with the rest of his family. He had vowed to kill them before the Greek soldiers had come and dragged him away.

They entered the room, their heavy armor cumbersome and wearying. “Look what we have here, brother. A whelp for our own pleasures.”

It was Menelaus who said it and Agamemnon laughed heartily, stroking his grey d and and contemplating the bound Paris. He was also naked. They had agreed upon him not wearing a stitch of clothing for a very long time, possibly forever.

Paris mumbled something out of his gag and Agamemnon pulled him up by his curly brown hair, ignoring the boy’s cry of pain. “Did you wish to speak?”

And with that, he removed the gag from Paris’ mouth and was met by a stream of curses from the prince’s lips. “You fucking bastards! I will kill you for this! I promise you that!”

Agamemnon and Menelaus rolled their eyes simultaneously. Paris was annoying them already, and they had only just entered the room. “I see he needs a lesson in obedience, brother,” Menelaus observed, approaching the angered prince and grabbing his strong chin in two large fingers.

“He does indeed,” Agamemnon concurred. “And I bve tve that lesson should come right now.”

The two laughed again and Paris was thrown to the bed on his side. He struggled vainly to move, but could not with his wrists and ankles being tied so tightly. He vaguely was aware of Agamemnon and Menelaus stretching him out on his belly, untying his ankles, and then tying them again to the bedpost. His hands were also untied but tied again just as quickly to the bedposts above his head.

He could not see what was going on, but felt his bare backside exposed to all who might fancy to enter the bedchambers. A rough hand traced down his back and stopped just above his slightly rounded bum.

“You are so beautiful, Paris,” Agamemnon’s voice boomed in his ear. “But you must learn the rules here if you wish to live.”

“I will never obey your rules!” Paris snapped, but inside he felt a trepidation at what kinds of rules he would be taught.

The hands moved down his cheeks and lingered over the cleft of his ass, massaging the area slightly, making him jump and gasp. A finger prodded into the small hole in his rear and Paris nearly screamed.

“Look how tight he is, brother,” Agamemnon said, indicating to Menelaus to come over to see the naked, exposed prince of Troy. “Such a tiny hole, it will be a miracle to penetrate it.”

They were going to rape him? Paris’ mind suddenly became clear and realized he was their sex slave. They were going to use him the their own sexual pleasures.

He tried to clamp his cheeks together in fear but it did no good, for Menelaus’ strong hands kept the tender flesh apart and exposed for Agamemnon, who had come over to bed to inspect Paris’ opening.

“He is tight indeed, Menelaus,” Agamemnon concurred. He replaced the finger Menelaus drew back in an instant and worked inside of Paris. Unwanted pain seared through Paris’ body and he screamed in agony. The king ignored the boy’s cry of pain and worked his way through the tight, hot channel, adding another finger to work that strong ring of muscle.

Paris was howling into the bed pillows, feeling the ache in his bum as fingers prodded inside of him. Never had anyone ever touched his opening in this manner, and he felt violated and abused.

“I have an idea already, brother,” Agamemnon said, removing his fingers and letting the taut skin close over the opening again.

Paris heard noises behind him, but was not sure what was going on. What were these foul men going to do to him? The thoughts that entertained his mind made him quiver with fear and trepidation.

“This ought to keep him busy for awhile,” Menelaus cackled as Paris fought to turn his head to see what would befall him. He saw them holding a long instrument that he immediately recognized as an instrument he had seen many times before in the various chambers of the condemned in the many cities he had visited.

It was a long, black phallus. The end was pointed, made to rub against his sweet spot and cause his penis to harden painfully. Paris opened his mouth and Agamemnon’s hand was across it before any sound came out. “Can’t have you making noises, prince.” He tied a gag around Paris’ mouth and knotted it almost painfully at the back of his curly, sweating head.

Paris screamed into his gag as he watched Menelaus bring out some oil to lubricate his passage for the insertion of the phallus. He pulled at the bonds on his wrists and ankles, but he was tied so tightly there was no hope of escape. All he could do was lay there helpless and alone.

Menelaus coated his fingers in the oil and pulled the cheeks of Paris’ bum open again to reveal the tiny hole that Paris tried to close by clenching the muscles in his bum together, but it was to no avail. Menelaus roughly pushed an oil-coated finger into the opening and shoved inside the young prince.

Paris cried out loudly at the feel of the finger inside of him. At the same time, the warm oil felt wondrous on his hole. It was soothing and flowed down over his bum to his balls and cock, warming them and making them feel wondrous as well.

Menelaus’ finger worked its way inside of Paris, his other hand massaging the tight opening of Paris’ bum with his hard, calloused fingers. Paris screamed in pain again as Menelaus inserted another finger and dribbled more oil onto the small opening. Some of the oil dripped down his legs to caress his balls and cock. It felt strangely warm and comforting.

This was a line between pleasure and pain. Paris felt the fingers in his tight opening but at the same time he felt the hot oil dripping down to his privates and coating them in their warmth.

“I think he is ready,” Agamemnon said, approaching with the black phallus. Paris could see it out of the corner of his eye and started bellowing loudly, trying to clench the opening in which Menelaus’ fingers were still inside of. It was no use, the phallus was coming at him too quickly, its mean-looking tip pointed towards his tender hole.

“No!” Paris cried through the gag in his mouth, trying desperately to move his legs and arms, do something to get his bum out of the phallus’ reach.
“Hold him!” Agamemnon commanded. Menelaus retrieved his fingers and placed one large hand on Paris’ sweating, heaving back. This rendered the young prince immobile and helpless.

Agamemnon placed the tip at Paris’ entrance and pressed it against his hole in order to let the prince know that this foul object soon would be inside of him. Paris felt the tip on his opening and yet was completely unable to help himself. Menelaus was much too strong for him to do anything but scream.

He felt the sharp tip being pushed up inside his ass and screamed even louder, if it was possible. It hurt so badly, his virgin hoeingeing penetrated in this way. The phallus continued its trek up inside of Paris until it rubbed against his prostate, making Paris shudder involuntarily from the sudden pleasure he felt in his groin.

And then, to his extreme horror, he felt his cock beginning to push against the mattress of the bed he was lying on. No! He thought to himself. This can’t be happening! His body was betraying him. He didn’t want to like this cruel object shoved up into his bum, but yet he felt his balls tightening and drawing themselves close to his body. It was then he felt something like a strap being drawn up to keep the phallus inside. If he moved a certain way, it would rub against that tender gland deep in his body that would make him shake uncontrollably.

The strap covered the cleft of his ass perfectly and Paris knew he would not be able to expel the object without the strap being moved. And with these two brutes, he doubted seriously that he would be able to work any part of his body free.

“Turn him over,” Menelaus said to Agamemnon, taking his weight off of Paris and moving to untie his binds at his wrists. Then he had a better thought and simply turned Paris as he was, allowing the bonds to cut into the skin of his wrists. Agamemnon did the same with his ankles, turning them in the restraints and now Paris was flat on his back, his penis standing at attention from the phallus continuously rubbing against his prostate.

“Look at how it excites him!” Menelaus crowed as the two warriors stood back to look at the sight before them. Paris was stretched out spread eagle on the bed, his wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts. The phallus was deep inside of his body and was causing his dick to swell and engorge itself.

But his face was the most priceless of all. His eyes were wide with fear, but the warriors could see the arousal burning in their mocha depths. He was trying to fight this feeling of lust, but it did not seem to be working in his favor at the moment. Sweat poured down his handsome face and dripped from his body onto the bed. His flat stomach heaved in and out, sweat dripping into his navel and down his legs.

Menelaus was the first one to approach the bed and peer down at Paris, who gave him a look of hate and contempt. He twisted a dark nipple between his fingers and heard Paris’ moan of arousal. For emphasis, the king pushed Paris down into the bed, causing the phallus to rub even harder against his spot. Paris could barely think with the forced pleasure coursing through his veins. His cock swelled even more and he could feel himself ready to shoot his load.

But this could not be allowed. Paris was to be kept in a constant state of arousal according to the rules, which they didn’t bother telling him. Instead, Agamemnon pulled a cock ring out of a nearby drawer and deftly slid it onto Paris’ thick penis. Paris screamed as he felt himself being restricted from releasing the hot semen that waited inside of him for some kind of exit. It would receive none.

“Go ahead and scream, Prince of Troy,” Menelaus jeered, watching the already large dick swell to even larger proportions as Paris writhed on the bed, sending the tip of the phallus deeper into his already agitated prostate.

Paris glared at them with hate, but could not ignore the waves of unwanted pleasure coursing through his veins. The cock strap was pulled even tighter, shoving the phallus further up into Paris’ body. He moaned as he felt the tip brush against that hidden gland and felt his cock swell even more until he was expecting it to split in two.

He looked down at the pathetic sight of himself. Body glazed with sweat, penis thick and curving up towards his heaving belly, decorating his lower abdomen with small drops of pearl-colored semen. He was naked and open to all. None of his body was left to the imagination.

Menelaus and Agamemnon’s mouths watered at the sight of the naked Trojan prince so wantonly laid out before them. He was terrified but at the same time experiencing the most pleasure he had probably ever known. They wanted to keep him this way for as long as possible, then have their wicked way with him.

“Brother, what say we show our prize to the warriors? We should let them know he is free for the fucking,” Menelaus said, eyeing Paris and enjoying the way his eyes grew wide at his words.

“Good idea,” Agamemnon concurred, and the two went to Paris’ bed to untie only his legs. Before Paris could think, his legs were shackled with leather straps so that he could only move them a few feet forward when they yanked him up to stand.

His hands were retied behind his back and Paris marveled at how these two men were so strong that they had held him fast and tied and retied him in a matter of seconds. The two kings dragged Paris to the door by a leash of sorts they attached to the strap around his penis. They opened the door to the room and proceeded out into the hall.

“Warriors of Greece, we have a special treat for you this evening. This is what the Prince of Troy has been reduced to,” cried the two men as they sauntered leisurely through the halls, yanking Paris along with them.

Laughs were heard from every corner of the crowded hallway. Paris hung his head, his face flaming red with embarrassment. Even worse, some of the men placed a finger to his rear entrance and gave a quick, hard shove, driving the hated phallus up further against his sweet spot. They snickered meanly at the moan he gave as he watched his already aching dick swell even more. Would they ever allow him release?

Agamemnon walked behind Paris in case he tried to escape and Menelaus walked in front of him, announcing his presence to all of the palace. Everywhere Paris looked, he saw that his family’s home was being torn asunder and replaced with Greek decorations, even a large bronze statue of Menelaus. Agamemnon’s was right next to him.

It infuriated Paris, this blatant disregard for his late family’s home, but he dared not speak up for fear of the repercussions. As the trio proceeded down the hallway, Paris saw out of the corner of his eye a raven-haired maiden watching with curiosity. Her green eyes seemed illuminated in the well-lit palace and for a moment, he forgot his pain and arousal.

Menelaus saw him looking at her and gave him a hard slap across the face. “Do not look at Marishka! She is a princess of Greece, and you are scum to her!”

Paris tore his eyes from the beautiful maiden, but not before he saw her glance at his aroused cock. Then she turned and walked quickly away. He figured she was disgusted by the sight of him and his nakedness. He followed Menelaus and Agamemnon into another larger hall where there were not quite as many people.

Paris was still gagged and dared not speak as he thought about how much pain he was in. The butt plug felt like a needle poking his prostate, yet he felt his penis grow larger every moment with every brush of it against his gland. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Menelaus and Agamemnon pushed open a door to a smaller room and then quickly locked the door behind them.

The room was made of grey brick and was dark and musty-smelling. There was a singly chair in the center of the room, and directly opposite the chair was a small screen that looked as though it could be opened from inside the room.

Paris was shoved onto the chair and tied by his wrists and ankles to it. He was terrified, not knowing what would happen to him next as he sat there, feeling the phallus rubbing against him mercilessly.

Agamemnon opened the screen door and pulled out a jar of something. He held it away from Paris’ face so that the young prince could not see what it was. Slowly he approached the naked young man and then produced the jar for him to see.

It was honey. Sweet, pure honey. Agamemnon opened it and began to smear it liberally across Paris’ body, his fat fingers coating the prince’s dark nipples in the sweet concoction. He also rubbed it onto his dick, laughed as he watched it curving upwards to his belly. The cum already on Paris’ body was drying and becoming gob-like in nature.

When Agamemnon finished with Paris’ body, he tossed the empty honey jar aside and stepped back to look at his work. Paris’ nipples were covered with honey and so was his penis and balls. This was going to be good.

He stepped back towards the screen again and pounded on the wall with his fist before opening the screen. And then, Paris heard a horrible sound. The sound of bees buzzing inside the wall.

This was why Agamemnon had coated him in honey. He was going to release bees onto Paris’ body. And not just his body; his most intimate areas. Paris began to scream bloody murder and writhe uncontrollably in his chair.

The bees began swarming out of the screen, agitated by Agamemnon’s pounding. They buzzed towards Paris, their droning sounding like an angry mob out for revenge. Paris’ eyes grew wide as they headed straight for his nipples and penis. He tried desperately not to move and agitate them more, but they were tickling his body as their little legs landed on his skin.

He accidentally slid on the chair and his plug dug hard into his prostate, making his penis jump wildly. The bees on that tender flesh were angered and Paris felt them stinging the already sore skin with their small needles of pain. He screamed for all he was worth and jerked wildy in the chair, which in turn caused the plug to rub his sweet spot, causing his penis to jump and again anger the small insects.

This was more than Paris could bear. It felt like a thousand knives were being driven into his flesh; and it was worse because of how tender this flesh was to begin with. His nipples were being attacked equally as hard and he couldn’t stop screaming, tears of pain and anger running down his chiseled face.

Menelaus and Agamemnon, meanwhile, were enjoying this little display. They had done this to other prisoners before, but somehow doing it to Paris, the ladies’ man, made it better. He sure was getting what he deserved.

Paris was beginning to feel as if he couldn’t breathe. The pain was so bad his head swam. He had lost count of how many times the bees had stung him; all the little pricks had turned into one giant stab of pain in his penis and nipples. They had cleaned the honey off his penis and were now attacking his balls, which were even more sensitive. He moaned and screamed and cried, begging Agamemnon and Menelaus to please stop. But they paid him no heed and were content to watch the spectacle before them.

Paris’ throat was raw and his lungs were burning from the screaming and crying he had done. Just when he thought he could take no more, mercifully the bees seemed to be finished with their feast and retreated back into the wall of the room, leaving it deadly silent.

“Did you enjoy that, Pari Aga Agamemnon laughed, coming up beside Paris and surveying the welts on his chest, cock, and balls. “I’m sorry to say we have no healing ointment for your pain.”

Paris glared at him through tear-filled eyes. It was almost worse now that the bees were gone. The pain thumped through his body and he felt dizzy and nauseated. Agamemnon removed the gag and Paris vomited all over the floor. His stomach heaved in and out as he threw up all over himself and the room.

When he was done, he sat back, vomit still coating the corners of his mouth. He felt no better. His penis was aching so terribly he almost wanted it cut off and his chest felt like someone had stuck a knife into it. His nipples were red, swollen, and inflamed and on top of it all, he couldn’t release the semen that still lingered in his body.

Agamemnon and Menelaus untied the prince from the chair and Paris found he could not stand up, he was so weak and ill. So Menelaus and Agamemnon decided that the former would throw the young man over his shoulder and they would take him back to his bed.

Paris felt himself hoisted over Menelaus’ shoulder and felt himself being carried out of the torture room and down the hall towards the hated bed where he would be tied again and tortured some more. He didn’t know what could be worse than what he had just endured but somehow he knew that this was only the beginning of his torment.

He could hear people whispering around him, but he felt too ill and was too sore to care what they said as he was carried into the bedroom he had been in previously and was once again laid down on his back, his arms and legs tied to the bedposts.

He felt the phallus rubbing against his prostate some more and moaned as his penis swelled, even though the welts made it even bigger. It was like someone had blown him up or inflated him. He felt huge and brick hard but the pain was almost more than he could bear.

Paris could do nothing but lay on the bed in his prone, exposed position and cry from the pain that wracked his body. What made it worse was the fact that his intimate parts were the ones that hurt so badly. He longed for a something cold to rub the stinging, throbbing welts, but knew he would receive no mercy from the two cruel kings.

Menelaus and Agamemnon watched as he lay there, hot tears running down his handsome face. His eyes pled with them to remove his phallus and cock ring and allow him some kind of release, even though it would make his penis hurt even more.

The two kings laughed at the predicament the prince of Troy was in. His cock was swollen from all the bee stings and his nipples, not to mention the upper part of his chest, were an angry red color. His balls were swollen as well and Menelaus greedily touched one, weighing it, it seemed, in his hand. The callouses on his fingers made Paris cry out loudly, rubbing against the flesh that was already tender without the added ache of the bee stings.

Menelaus continued to finger the tender sacs of flesh, giving no regard for Paris’ pleas for him to cease his torment. And then he stopped touching the flesh and moved away from the exhausted figure on the bed.

Agamemnon stepped up next and surveyed the naked, swelling young prince on the bed. Abruptly, he reached underneath Paris’ sweating, heaving body and toyed with the phallus, pushing it up sharply into Parprosprostate and then releasing it, causing waves of pain to course through the body of the young prince. There was no pleasure in this anymore. It was all pain. Paris screamed out loudly and was surprised at how loud he sounded; then he remembered that he was no longer gagged.

He cried out again and again as Agamemnon shoved the phallus into his body, abusing even more the swollen gland deep inside his body. This was more than he could bear. Sobs erupted from his mouth and he was helpless to stop the tears running down his face. His penis, balls, and nipples felt as if they were on fire. Sweat poured down his body in floods and he felt sticky and disgusting.

For some reason, at that moment, he wanted nothing more than a shower. But Agamemnon and Menelaus were not having it. They suddenly were untying him, but Paris knew he was too weak to fight or try to escape. He could only lay there and moan as they retied him so that he was now in a sitting position at the edge of the bed. The phallus was now even farther up inside his ass and was driving him into a constant state of madness and arousal.

Menelaus opened the drawer he had retrieved the cock ring out of earlier and produced a knife. A simple, shiny knife. A sharp knife. Paris’ heart thumped in his chest as Menelaus approached him, the tip pointed towards Paris’ face. For a moment, the pain was forgotten as the knife rested at the notch of his neck. Menelaus pressed it lightly to Paris’ neck and the brown eyes watched every movement as the blade slowly slid down his chest to his nipples.

The king made small circles around the swollen nubs of flesh and Paris could not stop the groan that escaped from his lips.

The knife pressed into his flesh harder than it had before and Paris cried out loudly as he felt the sharp tip prick his flesh. He was being cut by the knife. Warmth trickled down his chest and he realized with horror that it was his own blood. He looked down, his curly hair sticking to fac face and mingling with the sweat in it. The blood was warm on his taut belly, it mixed with the old dried semen there from his earlier cheated release and more of it pooled in his navel.

The cut was not deep, but it was enough to produce a flow down his body. Then the knife inched towards his penis. Menelaus laughed evilly and pressed the tip to Paris’ swelling head. “I imagine it would hurt if I nicked you, filthy prince.”

Agamemnon roared with laughter and watched as his brother traced up and down Paris’ swollen dick, going up and down the long shaft, watching Paris’ frantic eyes riveted to the shiny blade; his chest heaved and his entire body shook with fear. This was what Agamemnon and Menelaus enjoyed most: watching their victim terrified out of his mind, wondering what would happen next.

The knife paused a little before his overly sensitive head and then began to press into the flesh, already throbbing from the bee stings and the ring placed around its hilt. Paris let out a cry of agony and began to tug furiously on his bonds. It was no use. He was tied so tightly he only succeeded in creating cuts in his wrists and ankles.

“I wonder what blood and semen would taste like together?” Menelaus mused as he continued to press the sharp knife tip deeper into the sensitive flesh. It seemed only seconds later a small cut began to leak blood. Paris had felt every moment of the sharp knife and screamed loudly as he felt the tip inside of his flesh. Blood poured out of his penis and mingled with the semen that was still leaking out of his tortured head.

The knife was tossed to the floor and Agamemnon and Menelaus knelt before Paris’ thick cock, hungry to taste him at last. Paris sobbed loudly as he felt Agamemnon’s hot mouth envelop him, taking his penis into the dark caverns and sucking on it mercilessly. The welts felt as if they were on fire inside the hot mouth and Paris found himself begging for mercy.

“No...please...it hurts,” he moaned, but knew they were oblivious to his cries for mercy. There would be no mercy found here.

Agamemnon continued to suck on him until he felt himself near release. He pled with his eyes for the cock ring to be removed but was ignored and then it was Menelaus’ turn.

He bent down in front of Paris and took the thick organ into his mouth; the fire in his mouth made Paris scream with agony. And this was only the beginning of his torment.