Tsarevich and the Priest (For Jinchu)

[Poesdaughter]

The first time that Nikita had met the priest, it had been when he was twelve years old and half delirious from fever. There were only a few bits of the evening that he really recalled given how sick he’d been but they’d always stood out as meaningful memories. There had been a cool washcloth pressed to his heated skin, confusing foreign sounding words in the air, followed by a spoonful of medicine that had been horribly bitter on his tongue. It had been like that for several days as he’d drifted in and out of a fitful slumber always to see the black clad man seated across from him.

Eventually, he’d remembered feeling well enough to want a bedtime story from him. It had been the first time that he’d seen the somber figure smile.

Many years had passed since then. And, as Nikita had reached eighteen, it had been made clear to him that he’d been promised in marriage to the man. It had been a small price to pay for his parents to keep the prince alive so many years ago…and one that had surprised him for a different reason than it might have most. Instead of being upset, he’d looked at the older man in awe of it all. It was hard for him to believe, at first, that the priest would want to wed the same boy he’d had to scold to swallow each nasty spoonful of the herbal concoction that had helped keep him alive. The fact that he saw a beautiful young man now had been almost flattering.

And it was comforting, in its own way, when he climbed into bed that night with a familiar man instead of a practical stranger like most royal unions. His new husband was a man who he could easily rest his head upon the heart of as he let the excitement of the wedding celebration die down. There was no doubt that his white pajamas had been carefully picked for the evening to make him seem particularly darling with the top artfully embroidered in little doves and floral motifs to celebrate the union. The starkness of all the white seemed only to highlight the warmth of his caramel colored hair and wide dark eyes and cast an aura of innocence about him. Someone had certainly intended for the younger man to be pretty and appealing in their wedding bed.

“I still want a story,” the prince had noted to the older man, gazing up through long dark eyelashes towards him. The words made it sound like he’d been holding out for all these years to finally be read to at the end of the night. It certainly wasn’t that Nikita didn’t know that other things were meant to take place on the wedding night…but it seemed so difficult to imagine doing that now instead of being cuddled up and doted upon.

[Jinchu]

Friar Fyodor was never actually a friar, though he still wore black robes everythere he went. He was a kind of a warlock, really, though he prefered people to see him as a wonder-worker. He calwed his way up to the throne, knowing that the prince had a really bad health. He offered hsi help once Nikita was at his death bed, and the royal parents had to agree to all of his conditions. To Fyodor it was a path to life of luxory, to power and later, maybe, to even greater conquests...


There was a catch, though. To achive all these, Fyodor had to keep teh prince alive untill he reaches the legal age, at least. And while taking care of the boy day after day the friar grew... fond og him? He started to genuinly care for Nikita, to feel tenderness towards him... To all the peopel around them he looked like teh same gloomy, rather creepy monk with longdark hair and wild beard with some silver in it, with sharp facial features, always throwing eyebrows and piercing eyes, with overly long sharp nails on his bony fingers, and people in teh court feared him and felt sympathy for the young prince till the day of their wedding...


But at this point Fyodor himself only acred about Nikita, not the power and influence that came with his young husband.



He sat on teh bed near Nikita and caresssed hsi shoulder, as hi did amny time sthroiugh the yeras. this time teh friar, however, did not stop on teh shoulder, and his big palm moved lower, gently touching the prince's chest, tummy, thighs...


"A fairytale, hugh? Well, I can tell you one short story. But you have to behave and be ready to go to bed as soon as it's over, no arguing" the lowerd tone made it clear that Fyodor's "going to bed" was very different from "sleeping".

[Poesdaughter]

Nikita squirmed as Fyodor’s touch moved from it’s more familiar spots such as his shoulder to down over his tummy and towards his thighs. There might have been occasion for the man to have pressed against his stomach in the past, but there was a difference to the boney fingers searching for signs of tenderness in the past and offering a slow caress that sent a little shiver through him now. He could feel a slight warmth coming over his pale cheeks at the man’s distinct phrasing of the comment; the going to bed was not meant to just be cuddling and fawning like he might have enjoyed. Tonight going to bed meant to be bedded and bred like a purebred mare (though Nikita resembled a gelding far more). So the prince brought his thumb up towards his lips, nibbling on the edge of his nail for a moment before he nodded his head.

“I won’t fuss,” Nikita promised, though the likelihood of keeping his word seemed rather slim. It wasn’t that the boy was particularly terribly behaved, but that he’d lived a very sheltered life and had been spared every discomfort and indignity that his station could allow. He was overindulged, though not cruel for it, and that meant that he was rather prone to pouting or pleading with the intimidating figure before him when he wanted his attentions. There was always an expectation that he'd eventually get his way in the end. His way in this scenario was likely to receive his story, have a cuddle and a kiss, then be tucked lovingly into bed. It wasn't a sense of repulsion that made him play hard to get even on his own wedding night, but shyness owed to inexperience.

Honestly, even as much as it may have shocked the court, Nikita had always seemed prone to latching onto the friar. It had always made him feel ironically safe to have the man beside him, as if he was unable to see the darkness around him like someone else may have. The facts of the man's looks hardly mattered to him though they seemed to be in perfect contrast to one another. Nikita, with his sweet wide eyes and full lips, just on the cusp of manhood yet still dainty and frail as a china doll only seemed to make Fyodor an even more menacing figure beside him.

It was no different now as he wiggled down against him, shifting demurely away from the hand on his thigh as he position himself atop the priest’s lap. The way the prince settled placed the curve of his linen covered bottom more fully against him as if to just tease a taste of what was to come. It was as much curiosity of his own to feel the touch of the other man at his hips without commitment and he perfected an impatient little shift in place. Still, even then, he added a stipulation to the deal that he was making like a bargain with his own personal guardian devil.

“But it has to be a good story or it doesn’t count.” Nikita informed him with another glance upwards towards his new husband. It was said with the full weight of the boy's assumption of authority as if he hadn't quite reached a realization that their union meant he no longer possessed quite the same leverage that he once might have.

[Jinchu]

Fyodor uttered a soft, not at all displeased sigh as his lovely prince sat on his lap. He used to sit like that many times before, but this time Nikita's position was different, and his round soft buttocks put it weight directly on the friar's crotch area. And Fyodor was not a real monk not only in regards of his mystical knowledge - he was also a pretty sensualy man with great libido. It didn't take long for tsarevich to feel something pulsating, growing and getting harder under him.


Fyodor meanwhile put his hand on Nikita's shoulder, much like he did then telling him stories in his childhood. But the older man now used his hand to keept his capricious husband in place. And his long, a bit rough fingers played with Nikita's nipple through the thin fabric of his nightgown.



"Well, once upon a time there was a prince, as beautiful as a sunrise. Everyone loved the prince, but he was very-very naughty. He would never listen to anyone, always did the opposite to what he was told to and put his court and royal parents in total despair." Fyodor started, in a typiucal "fairytale" voice, but with a hint of a tease. "One day the old wise wizard came to the palace and explained, that teh prince was in afct cursed by the evil witch. But the wizard knew teh cure, the only way to break that spell..."

[Poesdaughter]

Nikita could feel the stir of his husband’s arousal pressing hard against his backside, and it brought a quickening to his heartbeat. A flush had already started to work it’s way over his cheeks, because he understood exactly what was meant to take place when they were finished. The mechanics of what their lovemaking would look like wasn't lost on him and the thought of how he was meant to take what was pressing up against him inside of his bottom made his breath speed up. It was intimidating to feel the press of Fyodor's manhood against him and know that the end of the story would mark when he'd need to become 'better acquainted' with him in such a way. In spite of the long years spent sick, Nikita had always managed to keep the indignity of any penetration at bay, rejecting any sort of medical attention that might necessitate it as unseemly for royalty. If that had ever made him appear haughty to the doctors, he'd hardly worried about it because he'd rather have his pride intact in such a way.

Yet, the whole nation (and a number of those neighboring) had just had a celebration of the fact that he'd soon be deflowered in just such a way.

The hand holding him steady on Fyodor's lap mixed with the rougher pinching of finger him was enough to merit a little gasp escaping him. The firmness of the touch felt good in a new way and it was difficult not to focus on that little jolt of pleasure that came with being fondled. He couldn't hold back the squirming as he felt the threatening press of arousal against him mixed with the confusing jolts of his own enjoyment. The mixture of embarrassment with excitement was overwhelming already and they'd hardly even begun the night. It was a thought that had his heart pounding in his chest.

Still, the prince wasn't willing enough to give up control and forgo the story despite the teasing that was entwined into the tale. There had to be some means of keeping his own foothold lest he decide he wanted to slow down the pace altogether, so he fell back on his usual means of delaying bedtime.

“What did the wizard do?” Nikita inquired with as much seriousness as he could manage to keep in his increasingly breathy tone. Even though he could tell that the man was having fun with him, he made it seem that he was completely focused on hearing out the entire thing. It had always been his way to demand extra little explanations along the way through the stories and some detail or another. It had been, in the past, his means of staying up a little later and having more time to cuddle. It wasn't entirely dissimilar now even though he could feel a tremble running through him that was completely different.

[Jinchu]

Nikita's fidgeting and wiggling, of course, stimulated his husband in the best possible way. The young prince had a deluightful, trully well-shaped bottom, and the rubbing of it throug only a few layers of thin fabric would be enough to arouse anyone. And Fyodor could feel the sweet scent from tsarevich's hair, could hear his trembling breath... Now the "friar" manhood fully arisen and pocket right between Nikita's cheeks - and it should eb said that the nature was generous to Fyodor in that regard.


"Oh, to break the curse the prince's behind should be kept as red as a pair if ripe apples at all times for a year and one day. Reluctantly, the royal family agreed to that unusual treatment. Of course, the prince was not happy, but the mighty wizard placed him over his lap, bared his bottom, which was the prettiest in the kingdom, and smacked it sounly untill it was red as a sunset. The prince's crying could be heard outside the castle's walls, and his tears flooded the floor of the throne room..." Fyodor continued in the same tone. "From now on the wizard kept the cursed behind red, heatig it up every now and then. A dozen of pillows were added to the prince's throne, and the queen used hsi taers to salt the vegetables for the winter. But the miracle really happened - the longer his bottom stayed red, the less capricious, spoiled and rude was the prince..."

[Poesdaughter]

Nikita’s lips parted slightly at feeling the full length of the man settled so carefully against him; tf there had been nerves about what was going to take place prior to that, there certainly were far more now that he knew exactly how well-endowed Fyodor was. Even the rush of his own excitement couldn’t completely banish his anxiety and he brought his hand back up to his mouth to bite at the tip of his thumbnail. The gesture only served to make him look even more like a little doll with fluttering eyelashes, flushed cheeks, and a thumb slipping past his perfect lips. Certainly, there would have been numerous suitors who would have sought out the little prince like hunters after a doe…had his hand not been already promised in marriage years ago. That might have been why several of his more babyish tendencies had never been trained out of him; he’d never had to learn to appeal himself as a well groomed young man to any suitor.

Perhaps that was what made him rely so quickly on his spoiled tendencies tonight too. The press of Fyodor’s manhood against his backside coincided far too perfectly with the ending of the story and seemed to signal that it was time for him to put aside childish things.

The tsarevich turned his gaze towards the ‘friar’ with what was a carefully perfected pout; the boy’s brow furrowed slightly and he gave a little huff to sell the displeasure as well as he could. He shook his head at the older man to demonstrate that he wasn’t pleased with what he’d been offered, the motion sending his warm hair falling into his face in such a way that the attempt to scowl was softened.

“Oh, I don’t like that story!” Nikita informed Fyodor, “That wasn’t a good story…I want another.”

On another occasion, the story might have brought forward a different response. It likely would have merited at least a little giggle for the fact that it was so absurd or brought a small smile to his lips for the implication that he’d driven the ‘priest’ to the point of envisioning delivering a sound spanking that he certainly had no right to offer. It was easy, after all, for him to tie their own roles to that of the characters and read into the fact that his own mystic thought he may have deserved a well smacked bottom. Typically, Nikita was a very good boy for Fyodor but he certainly had enough brattiness in him to occasionally tread just close enough to the line that he knew the other man must have been painfully aware of the fact that being a prince merited him things that no other rank did…such as not needing to worry about irritating authority figures in his life!

[Jinchu]

"Oh, but that's a very good story, little Nikita! Very aducational and completely true" Fyodor responded. his tone changed. It was still loving and tender, but underneath that silk now some steel could be felt. "I know that spoiled, ill-behaved prince personally, in fact. Maybe I just need to turn the story to life."


Suddenly Fyodor grabbed his young husband under his armpits, lifted and placed so taht Nikita's tummy pressed against teh friar's bony knees. Despite being more slim then athletic, Fyodor was not weak. The next moment he pulled down prince's pants, exposing his pale tender behind.


"Oh, I have thought about it soem many times tehn you've made a fuzz about teh bitter medicine or pulled my beard. Of course, I couldn't treat the tsar's son that way, even as your personal healer... However, I can finally teach my husband a much needed lesson!"

[Poesdaughter]

Nikita gave a little cry of surprise at being turned over Fyodor’s knee so suddenly, with his bottom turned to face the ceiling. It would come as no surprise that the prince had never been spanked before as no one would have dared raise a hand against the prince regardless of how naughty he was. It had always seemed like an indignity that others had to face during their childhoods, but that he’d been spared by way of royal birth. And certainly, even if the priest might have thought he deserved some discipline, Nikita had very much considered himself to have aged out of any possibility of facing such a thing! That belief alone led to him trying desperately to wiggle his way up off of Fyodor’s lap as his pajama pants were pulled down to his thighs.

The feeling of the cool air against his bared backside only seemed to draw more attention to exactly what was to come. He could feel nothing but the way that he was being exposed and it brought such a rush of embarrassment to him that it nearly fully replaced his sense of fear regarding the spanking to come. The boy dropped his hand behind himself, grabbing towards the waistband of his pants in an attempt to tug them back up though it was a fruitless struggle that he quickly gave up on. Instead, he let his hand cover as much of his bared bottom as possible. The glitter of the golden ring on his finger likely made the display all the more amusing for how clearly it signified that this punishment was something he could certainly have delivered by the man who’d slid the jewelry onto him.

“You can’t!” Nikita whimpered, glancing up over his shoulder at the mystic. “I’ll tell Papa if you do!”

It was an empty threat and even Nikita could feel how weightless it was as it was escaping his lips. Would he have really gone running to the tsar to tell him that he’d been given a spanking on his wedding night instead of been made love to? How humiliating that admission would have been! The mere thought that he’d been so naughty and spoiled throughout his childhood that Fyodor’s first thought at having him alone was to punish him like a little boy…no…it wasn’t something he wanted shared!

[Jinchu]

"Oh, don't worry about it! I'll tell His Majesty about it myself tomorrow. To be honest, I think he will be just as relived that a certain brat had his naughty bum heated as myself!" the frair chuckled teasingly. The young tsarevich did not realise that untill now everyone had been playing along with him, so he did not realise that actually overpower someone was not an easy feat.



Fyodor gently, but firmly grabbed his husband's arm and pinned it to his waist. "And you are going to recive some penalty for covering, Nikita, dear. Now be a good boy and take a spanking propely. You had earned it plenty through the years, my sweet, so we'll be here for quite a bit" he smirked, lifted his right palm and...


SWAT!!!


The older man's rough palm landed right in the center of a palm royal rump, the sound of teh impact echoing through the luxorious bedroom.