The Torture of Paris

Big thanks to my wonderful reviewers! Any ideas about what you would like to happen to our lovely Paris, feel free! I love feedback! Thank you to everyone for reading!

Marishka sat in her bedchamber as her numerous servants brushed her hair and laid out her elegantly decorated sleeping gown. It was late evening in the palace and yet Marishka could not relax. She continuously brushed her dark hair back from her face and finally impatient waved her servants away, fed up with being touched and pampered.

Walking to her balcony overlooking the city of Troy, she gazed down at the small huts lit with candles inside. This palace was still foreign to her and she wished for nothing more than to go back home to Sparta. Why she had been uprooted and hauled across the sea was beyond her. Yet, she had agreed to go, beguiled by Menelaus' words of a better life for her in Troy.

She had no husband and sought none. Her parents, also royalty, were in their own bedchambers at this moment, no doubt already asleep in each other's arms. They spent the day walking the halls of the palace and keeping to themselves. Not all the Greeks were as evil or vile as Menelaus and Agamenon.

Marishka dared not cross them. They could be vicious as snakes when challenged. Which is why she wondered what had led her to help the young prince of the fallen city of Troy, washing him off and cleaning his wounds. Marishka had always been a caring, nurturing person. She was always there when someone was ill and stayed by their side, offering them words of comfort when needed.

Agamemnon and Menelaus enjoyed having male slaves and many nights had Marishka sat beside the slave's beds, cleaning their own horrid wounds and seeing their bodies in ever-heightened states of arousal. All of them were dead. They had been either killed by the two kings or had somehow found a way to commit suicide by refusing to eat and withering away to nothing. Once their souls were broken, they had no will to live and died a lonely, painful death. This was to be Paris' fate.

Marishka could not allow herself to show any kind of attraction to this handsome prince with his dark curly hair and soul-searching eyes. For he would die as the others had died and the young princess of Greece would be left yet again with a hole in her aching heart and a deep depression that would last for months.

Last night, when she had cleaned him off, she had done all that she could not to be aroused by the sight of his sweating manhood, large and prominent as she wiped him off. She had felt the familiar heat pooling between her legs and did her absolute best to control her breathing so that her faint gasps of desire would not be noticed by the young man. But it had been touch to ignore the tightened balls and the enormous cock that stood up to meet her.

And then he had taken to masturbating when she released his hands. Marishka had truly thought she would be done for then. But somehow, some way, she was able to stabilize herself and make a quick exit, leaving the prince to ejaculate without her presence. Once in the hall, she had leaned back against the cool marble of the wall, breathing heavily and hoping no one would happen to come upon her there alone.

Something about Paris was different than the other male slaves. He had been a prince, unlike the others, and he held a fiery heat to his soul that the ones before had not possessed. Perhaps it was his history of being spoiled and used to getting what he always wanted. Marishka knew that Agamemnon and Menelaus were not done with him yet. But there was nothing she could do to save him. No way could she try to free him. Even if he could run away disguised under clothes she gave him, he would be found by the Greek army. They could smell fear, the way the sharks of the ocean and the seas could smell blood. And he would be killed on the spot.

The only thing she could do was to visit him after his bouts of torture and comfort him as best as she could. But she could not allow herself to become attracted to him or to even entertain the notion of being with him. He would wind up like all the others sooner rather than later.

***

Paris had no idea what was coming next. He could hear Menelaus entering the room. Agamemnon said something to him, but Paris could not hear it. He doubted that he wanted to. Whatever he was in for would be a horrid trial, this he knew. It seemed he had been in this awful room for days when, in fact, he had only been here for a day, if that. How would he survive?

For some reason, as Menelaus was approaching him, all he could think about was Marishka. Where was she? Would she come to him this night as she had done last night? Paris doubted it. He was alone, alone with Menelaus, the man whose wife he had brazenly stolen. Now would be the time for revenge, sexual or otherwise.

Menelaus came to stand at the end of the bed, looking up at Paris between his spread legs. He was wide open for the evil king, spread completely, with his still-tormented cock drooling its juices on his stomach. Menelaus could see the burns his brother had so cruelly inflicted upon his captive and it made him hard as he thought about running his hands over the charred skin, making the young prince cry out with intolerable pain.

Agamemnon was gone now, leaving him with Menelaus. The king knelt on the bed between Paris' spread legs and roughly pushed his finger inside of Paris' rear entrance. The prince howled with pain and then found himself thrusting his hips shamelessly at the finger, hoping for some kind of relief, anything at all. The cock ring held tight to his throbbing, burgeoning penis, keeping him from shooting the huge load that he knew was being held at bay.

His gag was now soaked with his own saliva and was doing nothing to muffle his sobs of pain and terror. Menelaus' finger moved around inside of him, but only for a moment. The king pulled his finger out moments later and loosened Paris' bonds around his ankles so that the young prince's legs could move, but only at Menelaus' discretion. He moved Paris' legs so that they were bent at the knees, much in the same fashion as they would be were Paris a female and ready to give birth. Of course, this was just so Menelaus would have better, more unrestricted access to the tight hole in Paris' ass.

As he was forced to move, the skin on his stomach and chest was stretched, tormenting the burns and making them tear open, pusing and bleeding. Sobs erupted from Paris' throat and he clenched his eyes shut as the tears ran down the side of his face. Pain was shooting through his body from all angles: the burnt skin on his belly, the aching of his dick around the cock ring, the pain in his ass from having fingers and body parts shoved inside the tender opening.

Menelaus seemed to enjoy his captive's cries of pain and torment. He leaned down in between Paris' legs and his tongue shot out to tease the clenching hole, even as Paris tried to keep himself closed. The king licked around inside of the tight hole, tasting the blood and semen that was still there from earlier. The prince hadn't been washed since the previous night and much more had been done to him since then. But he enjoyed the taste of the two fluids together. Paris clenched himself around the tongue as it protruded even further into his body.

Menelaus' hand began to tease and fondle Paris' balls as the young prince squirmed and cried at the pleasure coursing through his body. More semen oozed its way out of Paris' body and dripped over the burns on his belly. The hot liquid only served to drip into the sores and make them burn and ache even more. Paris was almost hysterical. His curls hung down in his eyes and his body poured sweat from every crevice possible.

The gag in his mouth was sliding towards the back of his throat and he could feel it starting to choke him. Menelaus continued to play with his penis and balls, oblivious to the gagging noises that his captive was making. Paris couldn't breathe; he couldn't think and couldn't see. All he could feel was the wet material of the gag finding its way further down his throat. He tried to scream but he couldn't even make a sound. Surely the king could see him choking on the gag. Couldn't he?

He tossed his head back and forth, trying to somehow dislodge the gag. But it wouldn't budge. He was going to die, here, now, this instant. Maybe then he would be freed from a life of torment.

As his focus slowly drifted away and his eyes shut, he saw Marishka in his mind. He saw his family, Hector, Andromache, and their baby Astyanax. He saw Helen, with her beautiful golden hair, Briseis in her priestess dress and his father sitting high on his throne in their palace.

He would be joining them soon.

***

Paris' eyes snapped open. He looked around. Was this what the afterlife looked like? He tried to lift his head and discovered the gag was gone from his mouth. His wrists and ankles were free. He sat up...and felt the shooting pain in his stomach. Glancing down, he saw that his belly had been cleaned and a special kind of healing ointment had been applied to his burns.

He was still alive. He had not died after all. He was still in the same room he had been in before, the same awful room where torture was a way of life. Glancing around, he assumed it was nighttime. It was silent in the room, and Menelaus was gone. It seemed he was alone.

The cock ring had been removed from his penis and it was its normal, flaccid size. Had he shot his load while unconscious? He could only imagine this was the case, as it was no longer aroused and purple. He was no longer sweating; rather, he was amazingly comfortable, except for the pain in his stomach from the burns. But he was still naked.

The truth began to dawn on him. And it frightened him. Marishka had been here and had gone. She had taken care of him again, as she had the night before. But she could not save him. All she could do was try to help him through this ordeal. Until he died. That was his ultimate fate.

Tears of frustration and rage began to form in his eyes. This was hopeless. There was no escape. The door locked by a key from the outside. He was trapped here. All he could do was wait for his tormentors to come back and do what they wished with him. He pounded the bed with his fists in anger, but could do nothing to save himself.

Where was Marishka now? Why had she not woken him when she had come into the room? He had no memory of seeing her face or feeling her soothing touch. He now understood, though, why she had ignored him at dinner. She did not want to become emotionally attached to him. She would eventually lose him.

***

Somehow, the young prince had fallen back to sleep after sobbing himself into exhaustion. When his eyes opened, he found himself looking up at Agamemnon and Menelaus. The latter stepped forward and sneered evilly at Paris. "So you think that we saved you, do you, prince?"

Paris could only glare at them. They began to tie him on his belly to the bed, making the material of the bedclothes rub against his still-tender stomach. He moaned loudly, doing his best to fight them, but he already knew he was no match for any force they decided to exert upon him.

"We did not save you. It was your precious Marishka. For some reason, she feels pity for you," Agamemnon growled. Once they were satisfied that Paris was tied down well enough, they decided to tell him everything else that had happened.

"She burst in upon my brother when he was just getting ready to ride you good. She saw you choking and pulled that gag from your mouth. Much to Menelaus' chagrin, she also pulled that ring off of your cock. I have never seen someone release a load as large as yours, Paris of Troy. And while you were unconscious too."

"At least she has a heart!" Paris spat angrily at them, feeling the hatred in his blood boil.

Menelaus rolled his eyes. "It would be wise for you to keep your mouth shut, Paris."

Now that Paris was flat on his stomach, Agamemnon produced something that Paris could not see. "Turn around, Paris. We want you to see what is going to be inserted into this lovely little ass of yours."

Paris turned, fear clenching his stomach. His eyes widened in fear when he saw what would soon be inside his tender opening.