Prince Bonir Vol 01

My name is Prince Bonir. That's Bonir with a long-E sound; boh-neer. I do not appreciate my name being mispronounced, and I assure you my dungeons are very big.

I am the second son and the third and youngest child of Prince Cedric III, Duke of Averic and brother to His Majesty the King. My older brother Cedric was to inherit the duchy; as second son, the usual plan was for me to enter the Church. Unfortunately I had been dismissed as an altar boy at age ten for my pranks, and the Archbishop referred to me as "hopeless hooligan." My father could have called in some favors and still gotten me into a favorable monastery, but decided that he would see if sending me to the military might not straighten me out.

At the age of 12 I was sent to the capitol to train as a knight in the army of the king. I astonished them all with my skill and dedication; at 16 I was recognized as full knight and my father asked me to come home. But all was peaceful in the west, while in the east invaders threatened to encroach on royal lands; I decided instead to remain in the service of the king as a member of the elite guard. That's how it was that I was elsewhere when a plague swept through my ancestral lands, taking my father and older brother with it.

I was studying tactics and strategy with Sir Langdon, the leader of the King's guard, with the hope of someday perhaps being in the same position and protecting my cousin when he became king. Sir Langdon was pleased with my quick study and had taken me under his wing, giving me responsibilities usually not assigned to junior knights. I was just riding back into camp from a reconnaissance run with three fellow knights to find Sir Langdon waiting for me.

"Prince Bonir!" he announced. "Please speak with me in my tent at once."

"Yes sir, certainly sir," I replied reflexively, but my mind was racing—I knew something was amiss. Sir Langdon never referred to me by my title; some of the men in my unit didn't even know I had connections to the royal family. I hastily handed my reins over to my page and hurried to his tent.

"You wished to see me sir?" I asked as I entered.

Sir Langdon, was wearing only his breastplate, and I could see sadness in his eyes. "Bonir," he said quietly, putting his hand on my shoulder. "I have received sad news. While you have been away a plague has swept through Averic. Your father and your brother both fell victim. I am sorry."

My eyes widened. Taken? My father and my brother were dead?

"You must return to your homelands at once—you are now the Duke of Averic." He pronounced solemnly.

I was dumbfounded. "But...I...I haven't completed my training here!" I stammered, thinking a million thoughts at once.

"No, but you have learned much, and now your people need you," he said. "I, too, thought that perhaps you might someday replace me—but such is not God's will. You have been chosen to rule the Province of Averic. And with your military training—perhaps God has chosen you to someday lead the defense of the realm against some forthcoming enemy. Go now, and do what God has willed you to do." And then he did something that really shook me. He bowed his head and ended with "My lord."

"Sir," I interjected, "you shall always be my superior officer, I..."

"You are the Duke of Averic," Sir Langdon interrupted, "and I am just Captain of the Guard," he continued more gently. In his wisdom, Sir Langdon had purposefully bowed to my title to help me get used to the fact that I was now, in fact, a Duke. I pursed my lip as I thought about that.

Sir Langdon smiled, seeing that I had understood what he was trying to do. "Your quickness to comprehend will serve you well, Prince Bonir. Oh and one more thing...The head of guard in Averic, Sir Jauffrey—he's a good sort. We went through much of our training together. You can trust

him

."

As I left the tent to pack up my things, I thought about why Sir Langdon had emphasized

him

the way he had, and I realized that I had been away from the court for more than five years—I had no idea who I could trust and who I could not in the court. The people I thought I could count on, my brother and father, were no more, and I had no idea if my sister and mother lived or not. Now I knew that if nothing else, I could trust Sir Jauffrey.

Many of the other knights in the guard came to see why I was packing up; I spoke with them cordially but briefly. It was seven days ride to Castle Averic, and in the meantime my people were without a lord and undoubtedly reeling from the effects of the plague—I needed to get back as quickly as possible.

Sir Langdon and a few of the other knights formally saluted me as I rode out of camp. I raised my hand to acknowledge in the fashion I had always seen my father, then saluted back, then raised my hand again. The message was understood: I may be a Duke now, but also I will always be one of the Elite Guard.

As I rode across the countryside, I thought about Sir Langdon's wisdom, and hoped that I could counsel with him at some future date, when I had a better understanding of the state of my province. Alas, such was not to be. As I raced across the land, the plague and I passed each other in the night. The plague was over in Averic by the time I arrived, but it was just starting to hit in the east. Within a week of my departure the province where we had been camped was overwhelmed by it. Half of the elite guard, including Sir Langdon, were felled by an enemy even the best armor could not protect against.

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As I rode up to the city gate, the guards recognized me. Hastily the bugler was summoned and as I rode through town I heard the royal anthem played, signifying the arrival of the lord. The drawbridge was already down when I arrived at the castle, and swiftly I rode in and dismounted. A contingent of guards came up to me immediately.

"My lord," one of them said as the all bowed.

"Are you Sir Jauffrey?" I snapped.

"Yes, m'lord," he replied, straightening.

"Sir Langdon sends his regards," I replied, giving him the salute of the Elite Guard. Jauffrey was a bit taken aback at first, but realized this was a sign—a secret signal of sorts. When he returned the salute, I said "come...you must fill me in on what has all happened..." Under my father's reign, the guard had only been consulted for military and defense matters, and others had advised on other issues. But he and I were both veterans of the Elite Guard, and he realized that because of that I would, at least initially, be counting on him for much more than that.

"Well, the plague killed almost half of the people of the town..." he began.

"Boney!" cried a high-pitched voice, yelling the nickname I had worn as a child. I turned and saw my sister Elizabeth running toward me, well, as close to running as a full-length dress would allow. Two things struck me at once. First, I had never seen Elizabeth run, not even as children. And second, she looked absolutely frazzled.

"Boney! Thank God you're here!" she cried, coming up and hugging me.

I stood stiffly as she hugged me. This would not do. Elizabeth had been bred since birth to be a princess or perhaps even a queen; from the cradle on she had been instructed in nothing but etiquette. Sensing my reaction, she drew back, realizing she was not acting "proper."

"Dear sister," I said stiffly, "I am glad to see, truly overjoyed to learn that you yet live. But I am the Duke of this province, no longer a child of seven. I will not allow the people hear you treat me as one, one way or the other."

That snapped her back into protocol. "Yes, my lord," she said, curtseying.

"You do not need to address me formally except in the council chambers," I replied more softly, "but you must understand that I am now your lord, not you little brother."

Elizabeth nodded—but unfortunately looked even more shaken.

"Come," I said, heading in to the keep. "Tell me, what has become of Mother?"

"She lives," Elizabeth replied, "but is weak and frail. Since Father's funeral she hasn't left her bed."

"I see," I said solemnly.

"I should go back to attend to her further..." she replied, desperately wanting to get away after embarrassing herself in the courtyard.

"By all means," I replied, "I expect you can fill me in on the details at dinner."

"Yes, m'l..." she began, and began to curtsey. I put my finger over her lip to hush her. She stood back up uncertainly, and I gave her a more formal, more appropriate embrace.

"It's good to see you sis," I whispered into her ear, "but we MUST maintain decorum in front of the people!" I could feel some of the tension in Elizabeth release when I said it—I'm sure everything we'd ever done to each other as children flashed through her mind, and she feared reprisals. My informal comments reassured her I was still myself—only now I had a role to play. And if there was one thing she understood, it was the importance of decorum.

"Yes," she replied, more sure of herself now, "I shall look forward to conversing with you at dinner. Until then..." and she took her leave.

"What has happened to her?" I asked Jauffrey.

"She has been trying to run the province—but has not done well," Jauffrey replied. "It's not her fault, she was raised for queening, not for governing. Every little problem seems to threaten her very sanity, and she changes her mind time and again. I see her agonizing over what is the right thing to do, and the fact is, she just has no way to know."

"I see," I replied. "I hope to fare better—but I will rely on you, Jauffrey, to help me understand what I have inherited. I do not know most of my father's advisors, so I do not yet know who speaks the truth and who seeks personal gain."

"Understood, my lord," he replied. This was not something he expected, but I also sensed relief. I expect that he had plenty of opinions on just such matters—and was for the first time being given the opportunity to air them.

"So, what is the most pressing thing that needs to be done?" I asked.

"The dungeons, sire," he replied without hesitation. "There has been no court of justice held since your father the Duke fell ill. Many people, some likely innocent, have been held in the dungeons for weeks without trial. We haven't meted out any punishments of course, but just being held down there for weeks is torture in itself."

"Very well," I replied, "lead the way to the dungeon."

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With a small cadre of guards, I went from cell to cell. Most of the minor crimes were not difficult to come up with equitable solutions for; many the time served was sufficient punishment for the crime. Those I could not decide right away for lack of evidence I simply delayed.

"There are others," Jauffrey said, "but they are more...difficult, and so they are held in special cells."

"Oh?" I asked.

"This one, for instance," he said, opening the door, "is accused of witchcraft."

I was not prepared for what I saw when I entered. The special cells were much larger and held implements of various types; the purpose of some of them I had no interest in guessing. But I barely noticed those differences, for my eyes were drawn in by the prisoner. The previous prisoners had all been chained to the walls of their cells, but the woman in this cell was chained to the floor in a kneeling position, her arms stretched over her head and chained to a beam above her head. The previous prisoners had all been regular peasants, dressed in simple and sometimes in tattered clothing. But this woman was dressed the likes of which I had never seen—there were little strips of leather covering her breasts, held in place by thin straps that went around her torso and shoulders (I later learned it was called a "bra" and was a recent import from France). An even smaller strip of cloth covered her nether regions—and that was all. I had known at some level that I would learn things about my father that I had never known, and not all of them would be pleasant. But this suggested an...interest...of my father's the like of which I had never considered.

"What is her name?" I asked.

"Eve," came the reply.

She had long, straight, black hair that had been at some point carefully combed, and her pale skin was nowhere near as mottled by dirt and grime as the common peasants I had seen earlier—I guessed she must be a "townie." She appeared weak, barely able to keep herself upright, half-hanging from the irons on her wrists. Although her breasts thrust out proudly, defiantly, yet I could easily count every rib in her sides. "When's the last time this prisoner has been fed?" I snapped.

There was an awkward silence. Jauffrey finally stumbled "The prison guards...are...afraid of witches..."

"She is not a witch until I say she is a witch!" I exploded. "There is no excuse for starving an untried prisoner to death. Fetch some bread at once!" Two guards bumped into each other snapping to attention to fulfill the command before deciding between them which would fetch and which would stay. I knew then that the rumors would be starting before he even returned that things would be different around here. That would be a good thing, I thought.

This interchange seemed to spark something in Eve. She mustered up the effort to kneel upright and then mumbled something. I stepped in closer to hear what her faltering voice had said. "Mercy, my lord," she repeated. And then she drew on an inner strength and craned her neck towards me.

Chained on her knees, she was eye-level with my crotch. When she reached for me, I thought she meant to bite my pisser. The guards reached for their swords, but I, fresh from service in the Elite guard, had my dagger out and at her throat before they could unsheathe their swords. But the girl did not recoil from the touch of steel at her throat; rather she looked up and into my eyes as she slowly inched closer to me. She did not look to be meaning me harm—yes, she was possibly a witch, but in truth when I was in the Elite Guard we had been called in on many suspected witch cases, and I had yet to see incontrovertible evidence that such things even existed.

Upon arriving I had removed most of my armor, such that I was wearing my breastplate and the loose, coarse fabric pants that I wore under my greaves to reduce chafing. A simple string held up my pants—by the time you removed the armor, in the event you had to go, you were usually in quite a hurry by the time you got to the underarmor. Eve must have known something about Knight's clothing, for she seemed to be searching the string. Finding it, she clenched her teeth on it and pulled. It was simply tied, not knotted (pants don't fall down under armor plate!) so she was able to loosen them with just one pull. I wasn't sure what she was doing, but I had an idea. Upon reaching the rank of knight the men of the company took me out of the town, including a visit to one of the capital's best brothels, and what I thought she might be doing was what they had termed the "French style." So although my better sense told me to back away, I was also acutely aware that my staff was quickly rising, almost as if it was straining to reach her just as she strained to reach me.

She reached out with her tongue, just able to reach the underside of my member as she strained against the chains. The warm gentle touch sent shivers up my spine. I took a step closer and put some space between my dagger and her neck.

Now able to reach me, she opened her mouth wide and took me in. I had not purchased the "French style," but I certainly was impressed with it so far. Her eyes watched me, looking for any sign of not liking or especially liking anything she was doing." She was literally sucking for her life.

With her arms chained overhead, her mobility was quite limited. But she could slide me in and out of her mouth, caress me with her tongue, squeeze me with her lips. It was exquisite. My penis was so engorged I wondered it didn't explode as it strained to obtain as much of the pleasurable sensation as possible. She kept sucking for all she was worth.

She loosened her lips for a moment and danced her tongue along the length of my pole. It was nice, but not as nice as when she enveloped me in her mouth. Ahhh...she stopped licking and swallowed my length again. My hips started to sway gently in time with her head-bobbing, driving me deeper into her mouth.

In my pleasurable reverie, I had forgotten the guards were there—until I heard Jauffrey moving. He came around behind her, which distracted me; I was suddenly aware that this didn't seem very appropriate. My little fellow started to get soft; sucking me to help obtain my good graces, Eve doubled her pace so she didn't "lose me." But Jauffrey was just being helpful; he reached down and undid something on the prisoner's bra, after which it hung loosely in place. He pulled the fabric up her arms, but of course could not take it off without unchaining her wrists. Instead, he pulled it over her head, then settled it back down, but with the cups behind her head. Having exposed her breasts, he looked down and returned to his position behind me.

Eve's eyes had grown desperate when I had looked away; now that I wasn't looking straight at the captain of my guard, the pleasurable sensations quickly restored what momentarily had been lost. Her eyes again begged for mercy, and in her mind it was only if she could pleasure me that she hoped to influence my decision. Truth was, she wasn't going to influence my decision, because there was no way I was going to hand her over to anyone without hearing the evidence first—but she didn't know that. I could have stepped back and announced my intention then and there, avoiding any rumors as to how my decisions might be influenced—but the shivers running up my spine from her exquisite efforts kept me rooted to the spot. She sucked very well, and I hadn't forced this on her; I really didn't want to walk away.

Suddenly it dawned on me that the way Jauffrey had helpfully exposed the prisoner's breasts suggested it might not be the first time he had done something of the sort. I realized that the entire setup of the cell seemed to suggest that it had been built with something other than torture in mind. I had a vision of my father forcing his penis down a prisoner's throat, and my own member began to recoil yet again. But my attention returned to the here and now when Eve, sensing me slipping away again, attempted to swallow my entire length. She was forced to spit out right away, but the novel sensations from the narrow back of her throat had me back where she wanted. That was fine with me. I looked down and watched her suck me.

As she sucked, her now bare breasts gently rocked in rhythm with her bobbing head. I realized that I could just reach them with my fingers, and realized that this was what Jauffrey had anticipated. I responded to their enticements and stroked her breasts. They felt wonderful. While she kept sucking, I became more and more enamored of them. I grasped them more firmly now, so both hands were overflowing with tit. Then I pinched her nipples gently between my middle and index finger and rubbed them back and forth. Every new exploration I liked better than the last.

I looked back at her face for a moment; she was still watching me intently, but had a somewhat more confident look. If I was playing with her tits, she had the attention she needed, it was now just a matter of staying the course and her objective would be met.

I returned my attention to the breasts in my hands. I was quickly growing quite fond of this "French style," but receiving those ministrations while holding her firm, young breasts in my hands was that much better. I kept gazing downward, but my eyes drifted out of focus as I paid rapt attention to the sensations arriving from my fingertips and my sex.