The Torture of Paris

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The servant appeared out of nowhere as if he had been waiting for this moment. Paris could tell the man enjoyed unclasping the chains around his ankles and untying the bonds at his wrists. He was too weak to run and simply lay on the bed as the slave retied his hands behind his back and made sure the knot was firmly in place. His ankles were left free so he could move easily.

Blood was still leaking out of Paris' rear entrance and he shuddered as it dripped down the backs of his legs. He also knew the blood was coupled with the semen that had been spilled into his channel only moments beforehand. He felt disgusting and filthy and hoped that Marishka would not be around to see him in this state. The leather gag was removed from Paris' mouth and he licked his lips eagerly to retain some moisture on the dry, cracked skin.

The cock ring was squeezing him mercilessly, making him want to beg for release, but he was too proud for that. Instead, he cried silently at the pain in his cock and balls from the load he was not being permitted to shoot. Hot tears ran down his face and fell from his chin onto the floor. His ass hurt horribly from the double rape he had just endured, but somehow he knew there would be more to come.

Now what was being done to him? He could only ponder this thought as he was pushed out of the room with Agamemnon and Menelaus, fully dressed now, behind him. They pushed him along by ramming a finger or two up his hole, making him jerk and cry out in pain at the intrusion. They were proceeding along the same path they had been on the previous night and Paris' eyes searched for Marishka, but he did not see one sign of her.

Before he could realize that he was not being taken to the same room he had been in before with the malicious, stinging bees, he was shoved violently into what looked like a dining area. He scanned the room with his dark eyes and noticed that everyone was dressed inside but him. The kings and queens of Greece were sitting round a large, oblong table and eyeing him curiously.

Paris hung his head in shame. Unfortunately, he was met by the sight of his angry, red penis just begging for release. All these people could see his hightened state of arousal and he knew they would not make any attempt to allow him climax. He heard low chuckles around the room he was in and lewd comments being made.

"Look how aroused he is. I'd suck him off but then where would the fun be in that?"

"His cock is huge. Now we know why Helen ran off with him."

"Look at the blood dripping out of his ass. He must have been a virgin."

Sobs wracked Paris' body. The comments were hurting him deeply, as people were also remarking on how he was no longer a prince of Troy but a simple servant. This was the first naked slave they had ever been in possession of. He could feel the eyes on his body, traveling up and down, but mainly focusing on his hardened dick.

Agamemnon yanked his head upward so his neck was exposed to the entire room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her. Marishka sat on the right side of the table, her long black hair dressed with glittering gems and jewels. She wore a long dress of soft burgundy and looked every bit as beautiful as he had seen her the night before. Her eyes met his for one moment and then she looked away and kept eating as if she was oblivious to his suffering.

Paris didn't have time to wonder why she ignored him this way because he was being forced to carry a tray full of wine goblets. He was going to be a server at this feast. He was switching roles with the people who used to do this for him. Now he was the one being beckoned here and beckoned there. It was he who served the wine and food and was barely given a smile of appreciation. This was something he was most definitely not used to. He felt ashamed and vulnerable. Occasionally, his cock would be touched lightly enough to make him moan with unrelenting desire.

It was extraordinarily hot in the room and Paris couldn't seem to stop sweating. It was strange, though, because the others in the room seemed to be perfectly at ease. It was no doubt his heightened state of arousal. As he passed by Marishka, he purposely bumped her with his hip but she ignored him completely and continued to talk with another woman to her right.

He tried to keep his mind off of his aching penis, which turned more purple with every move he made, smearing against his flat stomach and making him feel even more dirty. His ass was burning from the rapes and he felt the dried blood on the backs of his legs. He definitely was not a prince anymore.

Then it happened. As he was attempting to gracefully set down a tray of food, he stumbled over someone's outstretched foot and landed flat on the table on his face. Almost immediately he was yanked up by his dark curls and dragged out of the room. It was Agamemnon who had him and he pulled Paris down the hall back to the cursed bedroom where his deepest, darkest fears were realized.

"I see you are not fit to even serve a simple tray of food. Now you will be in this room all the time, alone. Do not think that Marishka will come and save you. She does not care for you anymore. Did you see how she paid you no heed at dinner?"

A knot formed in Paris' stomach as he realized no one was going to help him. He cried and mewled as he was led into the room. He saw the sheets on the bed had been changed and that the floor was no longer stained with his blood and semen. It was as if they had known he would be coming back. The thought made him shudder.

Agamemnon slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside. "Now I will have my time with you, prince. Uninterrupted."

Paris was thrown to the bed like a rag doll and his hands were yanked up to the bedposts once again. He fought against his hands being brutally tied with twine that cut into his sensitive skin but it was no use. Agamemnon was too strong for him and, after a few backhand slaps to his face, he had Paris tied down.

He kicked his legs frantically, trying to maybe kick the evil king and knock him out, then scream for help. But of course this was a vain attempt at freedom. Agamemnon sat down on Paris' legs and made them stop squirming immediately. He leaned up over the terrified young man and forced his mouth down on Paris'. Paris screamed, but it was muffled by Agamemnon's lips on his. He could taste the wine the king had drank and the meat he had consumed. The urge to vomit overcame him and he gagged once.

Agamemnon's tongue swept through his mouth, making Paris moan loudly. Agamemnon began to finger his stiff cock and fondle his balls. Paris was crying now as he felt himself becoming even harder. Agamemnon moved ever so slightly until he was able to slide a large finger into Paris' anus. The young prince sobbed loudly at the pain he felt moving through his body. It was as if a sharp object had been inserted into his ass and was now maneuvering itself around.

He knew Agamemnon was going for his prostate. And when he found it and pressed hard on that small little gland, Paris could not control the erotic moan that escaped his lips. It almost felt good to have the finger teasing him mercilessly. Pleasure replaced the pain and Paris began to move his hips against Agamemnon's finger. The king pressed harder, pulling his mouth off of Paris' and licking a trail down the prince's sweating neck.

Closing his eyes, Paris' hips undulated shamelessly against Agamemnon as he pushed his finger farther inside of Paris' body. He threw his head back, exposing his fine, smooth neck and practically inviting Agamemnon to nuzzle his nose into the soft flesh. It seemed the young prince was finally succumbing to the pleasure that could be experienced with the pain.

But Paris' penis grew even larger and as Agamemnon watched, his balls tightened and shrank to his body. But he would not allow release. He wanted the man to beg for it. To plead and cry for mercy. Then and only then would he remove the cock ring and watch the white hot semen spurt forth from his fat head. Maybe.

Paris felt the pain in his balls and cock but the pleasure shot through his body in waves to the point where he was not sure which he was experiencing and at what time. One moment, he was undulating his hips for more, and the next he was desperately wishing for the king to remove the cock ring that held him rigid.

Agamemnon withdrew his finger and Paris' hips bucked upwards as if to retrieve it. Now all he felt was pain: pain in his dick, pain in his balls and pain in his ass where the finger had just been. He watched as Agamemnon began to twist his dark circular nipples and cried out in pain when one was twisted a little too far.

He figured Menelaus would be in later to have his turn with Paris and he dreaded it. But then Agamemnon stood up and walked over to where there was a candle burning on a table by the window. He picked it up and Paris could see the hot wax just on the inside of the fat candle. He was not going to do what he thought...was he?

Agamemnon approached the bed and sat down, holding the candle precariously over Paris' stomach. Paris began to hyperventilate when he realized the king intended to pour the hot wax onto his tender skin. "No, please!" he begged, the gag having been long gone.

"What's the matter, prince? Too hot for you?" Agamemnon sneered.

"Please, Agamemnon, please," Paris gasped as he saw the candle being lowered down even closer to his quivering belly.

The candle began to tilt and Paris could see the hot wax collecting at the edge. He tried to suck in his stomach as far as he could but knew it would be no use. Suddenly, Agamemnon righted it and the offending wax evened out again.

"Don't do this to me," Paris cried. Tears formed in his eyes again and he watched the candle like a hawk. He could only imagine the pain that would be caused by the burning hot wax. Paris was heaving and sobbing at the same time as he saw the candle tilt again. Only, this time, the wax dripped off and landed on Paris' belly.

The effect was immediately a searing hot pain on his body. Paris screamed obscenities out loud as he felt the hot liquid course over his body. Some of it pooled in his navel and concentrated there. It felt as if a thousand fire pokers were jabbing at his stomach relentlessly. Agamemnon seemed to be enjoying this and laughed out loud at the look of pure torture on his captive's face.

The wax dripped down his stomach past the sparse trail of hair underneath his navel and was headed for his cock. Paris knew he would be done if the hot wax touched him there. His legs were actually free and he bucked them upwards causing the wax to stop its descent. Already it was beginning to cool, but Paris could feel the burning on his stomach. He knew he probably had severe burns on his body from the horrible aching of his skin.

Agamemnon set the candle back on the table after having emptied the usable hot wax from it and sat back down next to Paris. "I think we need to do something about this," he said, indicating Paris' free legs. And with that he quickly bound Paris' legs to the bottom bedposts. Now the prince was immobile, being made to lay there with the aching and burning on his belly.

Paris sobbed out loud as Agamemnon took his cock into his mouth and began to suck on the hardened, reddened tip. Paris felt he would burst with the pleasure being forced on his aching organ. Agamemnon's tongue swirled around the fat head and licked up the oozing drops of pre-cum that had formed there. More squeezed out as he worked Paris' cock with his thick fingers, coaxing the liquid up and out of the small slit.

Writhing on the bed did Paris no good and only made his stomach burn more from the way his muscles were twisting this way and that. But he could not ignore the glorious feeling of Agamemnon's mouth on his penis, making him moan in pleasure one moment and cry out in pain the next.

"Just beg me, Paris and I will release the ring around you," Agamemnon said, pausing briefly and looking up at the sweating man before him.

"Never," Paris gasped, but he had to admit that he was worried about his cock splitting in half. But he could not allow Agamemnon to see his weakness.

Searching around him, Agamemnon found a piece of dark burgundy cloth and stuffed it into Paris' mouth. "I am tired of your insolence, boy. Now you will be silent."

Paris tried to spit out the gag, but it was to no avail. The more he worked it around in his mouth, the more it slid towards the back of his throat. He didn't want to choke himself to death so he simply stopped fighting with the rag. Agamemnon went back to sucking on Paris' cock, pulling every last drop of fluid that he could out of the boy.

Agamemnon removed his mouth as suddenly as he had removed his finger from Paris' aching, clenching hole. "I think you've had all the arousal you can take right now, yes?"

Paris just glared at him through dark eyes. His damp, sweaty hair hung in his face and he shook his head to get it out of the way.

"I think it's time Menelaus had his turn with you."