My Prince

My morning routine is the same six days out of the week. I awake before dawn, and bathe and dress myself in one of my uniforms. I live in a small room that adjoins my liege's chambers, and I am expected to attend upon him almost as soon as I ready. I get one day off each week from my duties.

Prince David awakes at 7 a.m. most days, and by 9 a.m. he is on the floor, so to speak, engaging in meetings and doing the day's business. But in the morning it is just he and I.

I have known Prince David since I was a boy of twelve. I have been groomed to be his personal servant and trained as a royal retainer all of my life, with a gentleman's education, and training in the palace.

This particular morning I knock on his door at the usual time. "Highness?" I call. "Are you awake?"

He calls back, "Come in!" I open the door and go in. As usual, he is still in bed, and I open the curtains wide.

"Good morning, my liege."

"Ugh..." he groans. "I did not get to sleep until 3 a.m. last night. You're a cruel man, Adhemar."

I laugh. "His Highness tells me to wake him up at the same time every morning, and complains every morning when I wake him up."

"Well, yes. That's the benefit of being the Prince. I can be a hypocrite." He sits up, yawning, dark hair falling across his eyes, the hairs on his bare chest glinting in the sunlight. "Get my breakfast on, would you?"

"Of course, my prince."

I go out and order the breakfast with a servant, and then go back in and run the Prince's bath. I am not only his primary protection but also have become a sort of manservant over time. I don't mind, really.

I lay out his clothes and then when the breakfast comes, lay that out on the table, too, while he takes his bath. Soon enough he comes out in his silk robe, and sits down to have breakfast.

He shakes open the newspaper to read while he eats. I stand by his table. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

He flicks his eyes up at me with a slight smile. "Of course there is. Do your duty." In truth, while I ask every day, I know what he wants me to do, and in a way, look forward to it. It excites me to be used thus.

I go to my knees in front of him. He moves back from the table enough to make room for me, and I slip in between his legs. He continues reading his newspaper. This, too, is part of the game – to see how long he can pretend to not be paying attention.

Opening his robe, I see that his cock is already semi-hard. I stop to admire his cock as always. I think it is rather a handsome one, thick and darker than his skin tone, smooth as silk on the surface and hard as a rock for me every morning. Before him I never thought I could find a penis beautiful, but this one is. I don't spend too long admiring it, however, but lean forward and take his rapidly stiffening member into my mouth.

He reads the newspaper and I let his cock slowly slide to the back of my mouth, wetting it with my tongue and feeling it grow ever harder. I run my tongue along it, swirling it in my mouth, and adjusting my angle, take it in as far as I could go – all the way to the back of my throat. He doesn't make a noise, but I simply smile to myself as I begin to make love to his member, licking the shaft, running my tongue over the thick veins, smelling his musky man scent mixed with the scent of his soaps from the bath. I let it slide across my lips, my nose, my closed eyes, my cheeks, trailing my own saliva, and I kiss the length of it. I run my mouth over his swollen balls, and I am finally rewarded by a faint groan.

I take his penis back into my mouth, and now I hear his breathing coming heavy and short. I close my eyes, and focus on his pleasure and the lovely sounds he is making.

"Adhemar..." I hear him groan, and it makes me vibrate all the way down to my own erect cock. My mouth is full of him now and my only thought is how I can please him further. I reach around and grip the top of his hips and pull him deeper into me.

I don't use my hands on his cock, only using them for support on his muscular thighs, and just let my mouth work on him, making obscene noises, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth. I can taste his salty pre-cum and I eagerly swallow it down. There is no other noise in the room but rustle of his newspaper as he finally sets it down, and I feel my beloved prince's hands on the back of my head. I briefly glance up into his brown eyes and I see them looking back at me with love and kindness, and I close mine again and press my nose into his pubic hair and inhale deeply.

He guides my head into the angle he likes best, and I let him, and when he begins to fuck my mouth I just tilt my head back and allow him to use me as he wants. His groans are more frequent, and I make my own pleased noises. I know he feels the vibration on his cock, for he increases his frequency, and I look into his face and I remember how much I love and respect this man, and I try to get his cock even deeper into my throat and suddenly I feel his balls tighten in my hand and he comes, powerfully ejaculating into my mouth, filling my mouth up with his come. His fingers curl into my hair; his belly presses against my forehead.

Afterwards he lifts the napkin off the table and wipes my face with it, and kisses me on the forehead. Smiling down at me, he says, "I suppose we'd better get to work."

I smile back and reply, "Yes, my prince."