My Personal Slave

Eret wakes up to the familiar feeling of his slave between his thighs, mouth sucking softly around his cock. He sighs and stretches his arms above his head.

"Good morning, pet," he mumbles and drops a hand down to their tangled curls.

He's still sore from the night before and knows he's going to regret letting Quackity suck him off. It would feel like a bitch later on when he's sitting through another endless meeting with his advisors. But it would help his mind drift off to more interesting daydreams.

"That's enough," he says, and the man pulls off his cock. "Draw my bath."

Quackity peeks out from underneath the sheets. His brown eyes are shining with tears, and his lips are swollen. He's probably been around Eret's cock for the better part of an hour, waiting for his fling to wake up.

If the sunlight streaming in from the curtains is any indication, Eret doesn't have long before his other servants come barging in to dress him and bring him his breakfast. He wishes he could stay in his room today, blissfully naked and in bed, but delegates from the neighboring kingdom are arriving for a two-month stay, and he must impress them.

Being late would not be good.

He hears the water running in the tub adjacent to his room and raises himself into a sitting position. He watches his attendant go through the motions of pouring oils in the water and readying cloths on the side.

At his request and command, the lad is bare while in his chambers, giving Eret a full, unabashed view of his body. He trails his eyes over the lines of his body, taking in the bruises on his hips and the scratches on his back.

A sense of satisfaction comes over him at the sight of these small tokens of possession, as if the collar around the man's neck wasn't enough.

The man walks proudly over to Eret from the bathroom. "It's ready," he says with a scratchy voice.

Eret slinks out of bed, brushing his body against the attendant, and sinks in the heated water. It's silent in the room while Quacktig dips the cloth in the water and runs it over Eret's body.

Not able to help himself, Eret stops him as he finishes up with a hand to his face. Knowing what he wants, the man meets Erets' lips. The kiss is soft as if Eret needed to know he was there, as if he couldn't get through one task without feeling the softness of his lips against his own.

The door to his chambers opens, but Eret pays them no attention. He hears the clink of the maid's and servant's shoes against the stone floor as they enter the room, lays his outfit out on the bed, and places his breakfast tray on the table close to the window—exactly how Erets likes.

The clearing of a man's throat, however, does cause Eret to pull back. He keeps his hand on the attendant's face as he turns to glare at his head advisor and best friend, Fundy Wastaken

"Yes?"

"If you're done, Nikki is needed in the kitchens. Puffy is having a roast catastrophe," the man says, keeping his eyes firmly on the wall behind Eret. He's walked in on Eret many times before and has learned that he shouldn't look down while in the room unless he wants an eyeful or two.

"It's not noon yet unless you've allowed me to sleep in."

"As I said, Puffy is having a roast catastrophe and needs Quackity."

Eret sighs and leans back in the bath, his hand dropping from Quackity's face to where his forearm is resting on the side of the tub.

Quackity looks at him for approval, not moving an inch, exactly as he's been taught.

"Fine," Eret waves his hand, rolling his eyes, and sends a glare toward Fundy. "But he will be back during the meeting to compensate for my time."

"For fuck's sake?" Fundy asks, pinching the bridge of his nose between his pointer finger and thumb. "In front of the delegates? They aren't as shameless as you."

"If I want to, yes." Eret rises out of the tub, shameless in his nudity. "I am King. If I want my love to be with me, then he will be with me."

He turns to Quackity, the man who's been by his side and in his bed for years. "Be back by the time the delegates arrive, or else it'll be the whip for you."

"And if I want the whip anyway?" Quackity asks, grinning proudly, when Fundy curses again and leaves the room, muttering to himself.

"Don't tempt me. You know I love to see your bum redden by my doing."

Quackity exits the room, most liking going to his adjoining room to dress before going down to the kitchens. The lad had come to the castle as a slave when he was only a child. He found his place in the kitchen, helping the cooks wherever he was needed. Since he's only a few years younger than the King-to-be, Eret often found himself in the kitchen growing up, watching Quackity and giving him commands.

It didn't take long for those commands to go from the more innocent to lewd as the two grew older. Quackity worked hard to earn his freedom, and when the day came that he was free to choose where he wanted to go, he chose Quackity, and Eret was happy to take him, every piece of him.

As agreed, Quackity is waiting for him by the time Eret arrives in the council hall. The man isn't naked, much to Erets' disappointment, but he is wearing a long-sleeved, white, lace, see-through dress that stops mid-thigh. His cock could be seen through the fabric, along with his pert nipples.

Fundy, after seeing him, pinches the bridge of his nose as he steps to Erets' right.

"What?" Eret asks. "He's wearing clothes."

"Hardly."

With a pleased smile, Eret tilts his head towards Quackity, keeping his eyes forward. "Stay against the wall, and stay silent," Eret said.

Nodding, Quackity positions himself just inside Erets' peripheral vision. He stands out against the dark wallpaper and bookshelves that line the walls. A gorgeous decoration.

Eret takes his seat at the head of the table with Fundy sitting to his right, with the other advisors following suit. He shifts in his seat and grins when he feels the ache from last night still lingering.

The doors clang open, echoing in the room, and a small group walks in. The eyes of the man leading the group immediately drift over Eret's shoulder to Quackity, and even from so far away, Eret can see the slithery gears turn in his head. No doubt he believes that Quackity is a true pleasure —one to pass around freely amongst royalty.

Perhaps Eret will need to change his mind.

"Your Majesty," the man greets and bows deeply.

"Soot, how nice to see you again. I presume you had safe travels?"

"Yes, we left earlier than we typically would for other nations. I remember how difficult it was for our carriages to cut through your roads last year."

"You might need better carriages, then."

Fundy covers his laugh with a cough, which only makes Eret smirk.

"Please," Eret gestures to a set of chairs to his left. "Let's relax and begin our discussions, or do you need a day to recover from traveling our terrible roads?"

Wilbur clears his throat, but jerks his head to the chairs, signaling to his fellow countrymen to take their seats. "Rest won't be necessary. We are still young."

"Doubtful," Eret mutters under his breath. His retort is drowned out by the chair legs jostling.

In the past hour since their arrival, Wilbur's eyes have often strayed over to Quackity. Eret is almost tempted to ask the man for a game of poker.

Eret is bored out of his mind and does not care for Soot at all. Never has it been. He only hopes Fundy is listening and could fill him in later. One glance out of the corner of his eye tells him otherwise, though.

Quackity, on the other hand, dutifully remains by the wall, his back straight and eyes set forward. The stillness he possesses always surprises and impresses Eret.

As he's feeling bored and a tad possessive, Eret snaps his fingers, interrupting Wilbur's rant. Quackity walks forward, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He slips under the table and between Eret's open legs.

Eret pulls his head sharply to his clothed cock. He hears a groan come from Quackity as he crosses his arms on top of the table. Quackity slips his cock out and takes Eret in his mouth.

Eret sighs, relaxing in his chair.

Opening his eyes, he sees Mr. Soot so well, and the delegates stare in shock at him. Erets' advisors act as if nothing is happening—he does keep Quackity on his knees and his cock quite often.

"You were saying?" Eret prompts Wilbur.

Wilbur, with his red face turning redder by the second, stammers out his sentence before he explodes. "I'm sorry, do you need a moment?"

Eret tilts his head to the side. "A moment for what?"

"F-for ... it's only that ... must you do that while we're talking?" Wilbur Soot blubbers.

"Do what?" Eret is enjoying this very much. His breathing hitches when Quackity swirls his tongue over his head.

Wilbur stammers again, not making sense or forming any words as he looks around for someone else to step in.

"Oh," Eret fakes realization. "You mean my pleasure slave. Surely, you have your own? You must love being able to have command over another human being. To be able to snap your fingers and know that they are at your beck and call."

He pumps his hips upwards once, just enough to make Quackity gag in surprise. He grabs Quackity's head with both hands and pulls him down to the base of his cock.

"To know that you always have a warm hole to sink into or to be able to mold them exactly how you want." Another thrust. "Dear Ducky, here had a terrible gag reflex. I could feed him only a few inches before I had to stop." He picks up his pace, jabbing his cock down to his lover's throat. He can feel the warmth of his drool slide down his member and soak into his trousers.

"Do you hear that?" He asks, tilting his head back in his chair. "A perfect slave, molded to my every need." He slams in one last time, shooting off into Quackity's throat.

Quackity cleans Eret's cock before tucking him back in.

"Now," Eret says, feeling hot under his clothes, but satisfied at Wilbur's shocked expression. "Shall we continue with our discussions, or are we going to take other unnecessary pauses? I hear roast is on the menu tonight."

"Puffy and Quackity do make a delicious roast," Fundy adds gleefully.

Wilbur's eyes widen, glancing down to where Quackity is still hidden by the wooden table before he clears his throat and nods.