"I am here," Locke, the miller's eldest son said to the young man standing outside his cell, "because my father is a _d_a_m_n_able liar."
The young man lifted an eyebrow. His face showed no sympathy.
Looking into the cold, aristocratic visage, any hope Locke had had of winning a reprieve from this stranger abandoned him. Because he was desperate and lonely, he pressed on, regardless. "I suppose in fairness, I must admit my father means no harm. His stories are told merely to amuse. They are so far-fetched only a fool would believe...." He let his voice trail off, aware of the hole he was digging for himself.
The young man smiled. "A fool or the king," he said coolly. "Do you imply the two are one and the same?"
"No, truly, I did not mean..." Locke clutched the bars of his prison cell with desperate hands. "When I reached my majority, I would have been wise to leave my father's house and fare for myself. But my father is a whimsical man, better at story than business. I thought I would do the noble thing by staying to help him. And now the fool has told the king I have the ability to spin straw into gold!"
"Oh, dear," the young man said with a trace of amusement. "That would appeal to the king's love of money. Greed frequently overcomes his reason."
"The king believed him and brought me here." Locke gestured to the dirty pile of straw and the spinning wheel behind him. "He said that if I did not spin this straw into gold by dawn tomorrow, I'd be put to death."
"I suppose I may safely assume you cannot spin straw into gold?"
"I can't even spin!" Tears of frustration rose in Locke's gray eyes.
The other man suppressed a smile and nodded as if the news did not surprise him. "Suppose I offered my assistance. What would it be worth to you?"
"You....you would help me?" Locke hardly dared hope he had understood correctly.
"Possibly. For a price."
"I am but a poor miller's son. I have no money."
"Jewels?"
"No."
"Property?"
"Of course not!" Locke was becoming exasperated.
"Would you allow me to spank you?"
"WHAT?"
The young man smiled. "Ten times, with my hand, on bare skin. That is not such a heavy price, surely."
Locke bit his lip. He was sure he was missing a catch somewhere. But from all angles, having a stinging bottom seemed infinitely preferable to having a headless body. He nodded once.
Apparently, the spanking was to go forward immediately. The young man produced a set of keys, let himself into the cell, and seated himself on the pile of straw.
"I suppose you want me to lie across your lap," Locke said sourly.
The man nodded curtly. With a sigh, Locke obeyed. He tried to cheat a little by placing his stomach on the man's lap, taking his buttocks out of the ideal range for punishment. But the man was wise to Locke and repositioned him so that his hips rested on the man's thighs, his nose pointed precariously at the floor and his bottom stuck up high in the air.
"Two more for that little trick," the man said, not angry.
"I've never been spanked before. I didn't know," Locke lied.
"And an extra three for being untruthful."
Locke opened his mouth again, then shut it abruptly when he felt the brush of rough material against his cheeks as the man pushed his shift out of the way, baring his bottom. He shivered a little at the cold and braced his hands on the floor for balance.
"I will kill my father," was his last coherent thought before the first slap fell hot and hard on the lower slope of his left buttock. Locke jumped a little in spite of himself. Two more slaps of equal force in the same spot made him shift his weight and curse.
Three hard slaps to the lower slope of the right buttock. Each blow sounded like an explosion against Locke's bare skin.
He grimaced, concentrated on keeping both hands on the floor as four more blazing smacks reinforced the fire in his lower cheeks.
Ten—even fifteen—swats with a bare hand would not have been an unendurable punishment, had the man but had the consideration to spread them a little more evenly across Locke's bottom. But concentrated in one area, and the most sensitive area at that, they caused more pain than Locke would have anticipated.
"Had you but cooperated, we'd be finished now," the man reminded him. "As it is, we've five more." He patted the lower slope of Locke's right buttock meaningfully.
"Go ahead and get it done then!" Locke snapped. He was embarrassed to realize the intimate touch on his backside, so soothing after the painful slaps, was arousing him.
The eleventh smack fell, harder than all that had come before it, burning across what was already scorched. Locke yelped. The man patted his bottom consolingly before delivering the twelfth smack in exactly the same place.
"_f_u_c_k_ing bastard!" Locke gasped.
"Five more for that. If you don't keep hold of your temper, this spanking will last all night."
Locke bit back a protest.
Three more spanks, very hard, on the backs of his thighs. Locke bit his lip and twisted, trying to lessen the smart. Another minute, and he'd be in tears. "You've had your fun. That's enough," he said in what he hoped was a reasonable voice.
"Apologize for what you called me."
"I apologize."
A blindingly hard smack. "Say it. Say the words."
"I'm sorry I called you a _f_u_c_k_ing bastard."
"Thank you. After four more, you will be forgiven." And the man spanked him hard four more times, all in the same sensitive spot.
Locke forced himself to stand immediately, even though his bottom smarted and his eyes stung with tears he was too proud to shed. "_f_u_c_k_ing bastard," he said defiantly.
"Get busy putting handfuls of the straw between the bars on the window," the man ordered, ignoring Locke's words. "What the peasants don't grab for bedding and such, the wind will blow away. There'll be naught left of it by dawn."
He opened the sack he had carried into the room and began pulling bars of gold from its recesses. "You may have to do some fast talking to explain how loose straw was spun into a bar of gold. But I doubt it. The king cares little how things happen as long as they happen."
Almost forgetting the fiery pain, Locke stared open mouthed. He had never seen one bar of gold, let alone a dozen. His father was seldom even paid in gold coin. Silver, at the very best. Usually copper.
The man made a sound of exasperation. "Move, simpleton!"
"I...." There was nothing to say. Locke swiftly flung handfuls of straw out the window, as the man stacked the golden bars into a shape approximating that of the mound of straw.
"Dawn approaches," the man said. "I must go. Tell the king of my role in this, and you'll be burned at the stake instead of merely beheaded. I swear it."
He let himself out of the cell and disappeared into a side corridor before Locke could speak.
++++++++++
The king was delighted. "Well done, my boy, well done!" he said, when he could overcome his surprise sufficiently to speak. "A small fortune spun from worthless straw. Oh, well done, indeed! I should appoint you my head treasurer!"
"No, thank you, sire. I ask only to return to my father's house."
Where I will cut his lying tongue out, Locke added grimly, to himself.
"In good time. All in good time." The king's eyes had narrowed in an expression Locke distrusted instantly.
"Before you go...." the king nodded to the guards who had accompanied him to the dungeon. They immediately brought in two sacks full of fresh straw, which they dumped in a corner of Locke's cell.
Locke stifled a curse. "Your highness, I should warn you the magic only works three times."
"Your father said nothing of that," the king said, scowling.
"Nonetheless, it is true." Locke spoke firmly, looking into the monarch's greedy, pig-like eyes. "Why not release me now that your coffers are full and save my....talent....for a time of true national emergency?"
"Every day is a national emergency in the treasury," the king said, starting to close Locke's cell door.
"And if the work is not done?" Locke asked.
"If this straw has not been spun to gold by dawn tomorrow, you'll be put to death." The king smiled unpleasantly. "At least, in the end, you will."
++++++++++
Locke was not in the least surprised when the strange young man arrived at his cell door that night.
He was surprised at the involuntary jump his _c_o_c_k_ gave at the smooth, even voice: "I assume you would like me to spare your life for you again."
"You assume too much." Locke rubbed a hand over his bottom hoping for sympathy or reprieve. He was annoyed to discover the heat and smart from the spanking he'd taken the night before were long gone.
"So, you would rather boil alive than suffer a spanking?" The man's eyebrows arched. "An interesting choice. One I do not envy you. Farewell."
"Wait!" Locke shouted.
The man paused. He dug into his bag and pulled out a paddle. Small, thin, perfectly rounded. Locke knew it would sting like a million wasps.
"Ten with this, ten with my hand," the man said. "On the bare. Do you but suffer that, I will give you enough gold to please even our greedy king."
"No extra swats," Locke bargained.
"If you do not comport yourself in a way that earns extra punishment, I will not deliver it. That is all I can promise."
Locke had no choice.
The man unlocked the door and stepped into the cell.
Locke studied the distance between them, wondering if he could knock the man down and flee. It wasn't as if this strange man could very well plead his case to the guards or the king....
"Do not consider it," the man warned, reading Locke's mind. "I have more support from higher places than you would think. And I am an excellent liar."
Locke sighed, abandoning the idea. "I suppose you will want me across your lap again."
"Perhaps later. For now, kneel on the ground and rest your weight on your elbows."
Locke did so, and quickly discovered the humiliating position placed his rump high in the air, at a perfect angle for punishment. The man knelt beside him, pushed Locke's shift up to his waist, and placed an arm around Locke's mid-section.
The paddle pressed briefly against Locke's bottom as if becoming intimately acquainted with its target. Then the man raised his arm high and slammed it down.
The smack was ten times louder than a blow from a human hand, and it hurt at least ten times as much. Locke yelped in spite of himself. Before he could recover, the paddle smashed down for the second time.
He tried to twist out of reach, but the man was strong and held on tightly, delivering each whack with enough force to numb the skin for a moment before the blazing pain asserted itself.
Fighting to hold back cries of pain, Locke clutched at the loose straw. He tried to focus his attention on something, anything other than what was happening to his bottom, but the noise and sting of the paddling allowed little distraction.
After the sound of the tenth whack died away in the small cell, the man let him go. Locke immediately clasped both hands to his backside, amazed by the heat he felt there. Hot tears slipped unbidden from his eyes as he twisted and turned, trying to find a position that eased the smart.
The man seated himself on one of the piles of straw, watching, amused. Eventually, he said, "It grows late. We must finish your spanking. Place yourself across my lap without delay, or I will add extra punishment."
Locke's tears had dried, though the heat in his bottom was still intense. He considered begging for reprieve from the man; one look assured him there would be none.
Defiantly, he yanked his shift up to the waist to bare the reddened flesh and bent his body across the man's lap, careful to position his bottom correctly.
The man stroked his bottom, testing the heat. His touch was teasing, arousing. "Would you like me to spank you quickly or slowly?"
Locke knew which answer was wanted. He gave the opposite. "Quickly. Get done with it."
The ten slaps fell fast and harder than he would have believed possible. Locke howled and brought his hand back to protect himself, aware even as he did it that he committed an unforgivable error.
The man briskly moved Locke's hand out of the way and finished the spanking with three resounding slaps. "You have earned further punishment. Five more with the paddle or ten more with my hand."
He could not face the paddle again. Not even were it to mean his death. "With your hand," he said.
"Ask me for it."
"Like hell."
"Or perhaps you would prefer the paddle. Or the gallows."
Locke swallowed, glad the man could not see his face. "I am sorry I interfered with the spanking. P....please punish me...."
"Punish you?"
"Spank me."
The first slap fell, hot and lingering, but not nearly as hard as the ones that had preceded it. The man rested his hand on Locke's bottom for a moment, almost caressing, then delivered the second slap and the third in like manner. The blows stung, all the more since he had been so thoroughly punished earlier but Locke also found the juxtaposition of pain and comfort produced an unexpected response in him. He arched his bottom, unable to stifle his cries at the heat and arousal produced by each burning slap.
His whole world narrowed to the sensations of hot hand against hot bottom. On and on it went, many more slaps than ten, each a little harder and faster than the last. His backside was aflame. His breath came in sobbing gasps. His _c_o_c_k_ thrust against the man's thigh as if it had a life of its own.
And then, when he was sure he could take no more, Locke exploded, his whole body shuddering with the strength of the sensations focused in his throbbing backside and _c_o_c_k_. He was vaguely aware that the spanking continued, even as the man beneath him bucked violently in response.
When it was finished and Locke dangled limply, unable even to support his weight with his hands, the man stood up, depositing Locke none too gently on the floor, and scrubbing at the wet mark on his pants as if it disgusted him. With a muffled curse, he began to dispose of the straw himself.
By the time the two piles of straw had gone through the bars on the window a handful at a time, Locke had pulled himself together enough to assist with the gold.
"I've never come that way before," Locke admitted, his breathing still a little ragged, face red as he thought about what the man had witnessed. "After, but not....during."
The man shrugged. "You're not the first."
"Did you enjoy it?"
A strange mixture of sadness and regret flitted across the other man's face. "Well enough. You are handsome and you put on a good show."
"So that's all it was to you? A show?" In their own way, the words hurt as much as the spanking he had received.
"What else was I supposed to feel?"
"Something for me, perhaps."
The man wouldn't look at him. "You were but the instrument. Any man would have done as well."
Locke rubbed his bottom and winced. "Any man you could trap and manipulate. Any man over whom you hold the power of life and death. Who are you, anyway?"
"That does not concern you."
"You're a coward, obviously, because you don't move until the cards are stacked fully in your favor. Were I not in this cell, you would never have dared seek me out and invited me to play your little games. Perhaps you're a guard? They do well with brute force. Or one of the king's men, beyond reach of the law?"
The man smirked. "Hardly. And you would do well to mind your words. And now, dawn approaches. As before, if you mention to the king you had assistance, I will see to it he removes your tongue. Before he kills you."
++++++++++++
"Have you been crying?" the king demanded, after ooing and ahing over the piles of gold he found waiting for him in Locke's cell.
"Perhaps a bit, your highness. Though I am a grown man, I do miss my father." The lie sounded ridiculous, even to Locke's own ears.
"Be brave lad, you shall see him tomorrow."
Locke's heart sank. "Tomorrow, your highness? Why not today? I have done all you asked."
"But you told me the magic would work three times, did you not? If you can spin straw into gold for me one more time, you will have done your duty to your king and may return to live the rest of your life in peace. If you cannot do it, however...."
The guard was already bringing fresh piles of straw into the cell.
"I get the point," Locke said. "The hot oil? The gallows? The axe?"
"Yes," said the king. "Eventually." ++++++++++++
Locke spent most of the day lying on his stomach, deep in thought. From time to time, a cool breeze through the window soothed his still-sore backside.
He had all the pieces of the puzzle, he was quite sure. Making them fit together took some doing, but eventually, a rough plan began to take shape.
Locke was ready when the man appeared outside his cell.
The man held the familiar bag of golden bars in one hand and a bigger and more fierce-looking paddle in the other. "Our last time together," he said, with mock sadness. "What punishment shall we negotiate tonight?"
Locke stood up slowly, "There's been little negotiation the last two nights," he said bitterly. "You proposed the punishment you wished to give, and I had little choice but to accept. I am but the instrument, after all."
"Very true. The balance of power is on my side." The man smiled.
"WAS on your side," Locke amended. And added, "Prince Roland."
If Locke had been in the least unsure of his conclusion, the man's reaction would have resolved all doubt. His face went white. His pupils dilated. The hand holding the paddle actually started to shake. "How did you--?" He took a deep breath, fighting for control. "I mean, I am not who you think."
"Of course you are," Locke said gently. "Who but the king's son would know the king's mind so well? Who else would have access to untold riches? Who else could enter the dungeon without being challenged?"
The man was silent, still shaking.
"Of course, since the king has three sons, I had to use my reason to decide which you were. Though it wasn't very difficult. The oldest is abroad, now, is he not? And the youngest but a lad of fifteen and said to have more interest in the opposite _s_e_x_. So that left only the middle son. You, Prince Roland."
"The king will never believe you!"
"Perhaps not....but that remains to be seen."
"You would actually tell him? I know him, remember. Even if he does believe you, he will kill you for bringing him the news."
"He'll kill me in any event when he learns I can't spin straw into gold."
"I'll give you the gold!" Nothing was left of the scornful, self-possessed young man who had first addressed a terrified Locke.
Locke smiled coldly, enjoying the transformation "Yes. And you'll give me something else as well."
Tears filled the prince's eyes. "Of course. Anything. You and your father will never need to work again. You'll have jewels, riches, beasts, property. Just tell me what you want, and you'll have it."
"I want to spank you."
Roland gasped. His face grew even whiter and the paddle dropped from his hand. Locke feared he would fall down senseless. "I—I can't. I've never...."
"It is only fair. I was forced to accept a spanking to spare my life. Now you must do the same."
"With your hand?"
"That and the paddle."
"How many?"
"Until I believe you've had enough."
"That's not fair! I always told you...."
"And always added to the agreed upon amount. At least I am being honest."
A dull red started to flush back into the parchment of Roland's face. "You leave me no choice."
"You left me none."
With shaking hands, Roland unlocked the door and stepped into the cell with Locke. Locke seated himself, wincing as the rough straw made contact with his still-sensitive backside. "You may dispose of your trousers," he said. "You'll not be needing them for awhile."
Two tears trickled down his flushed face as Roland stepped out of his trousers and stood facing Locke. Locke smiled as he noted the prince's _c_o_c_k_ pointing skyward, the fluids already leaking from the engorged head belying his show of reluctance.
"Bend over," said Locke, patting his thigh suggestively.
Roland didn't move. He put an involuntary hand back to his bottom and looked at Locke with wide eyes.
Locke smiled. "Yes, it will hurt. But you have earned it, make no mistake. Now come here."
Roland trembled harder than ever as he crossed the room and awkwardly positioned himself over Locke's knees, bared bottom well in the air. Locke was sure he heard a quiet, desperate sob as Roland realized the utter helplessness of his position. He felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. All too well, he remembered the humiliation and fear Roland now endured. He took a deep, bracing breath and reminded himself that it was BECAUSE of Roland that he had endured it.
Locke patted the upturned bottom lightly, felt the smooth muscles jump under his hand as if anticipating a blow. "Hang on to my leg," he ordered. "And don't let go until I'm finished."
Another stifled sob. A tentative grip on his ankle that tightened convulsively as Locke delivered the first smack across the center of the smooth buttocks. It was not an especially hard slap, but Roland jerked as if mortally wounded. A pink flush appeared on the skin where Locke's hand had landed. Locke struck again, on the right cheek, producing a loud yelp and another pink flush. He spanked slowly and firmly all over Roland's backside, giving Roland a chance to get acquainted with the unfamiliar sensations.
At first Roland wriggled and cried out loudly with each blow. Then, as he realized there was more heat and noise than actual pain, he quieted and ceased his struggles. His _c_o_c_k_ jumped against Locke's thigh, and Locke's own member stiffened in response. But he forced himself to ignore it. This spanking was to be for punishment, not pleasure.
When every inch of Roland's bottom was tinged pink, Locke slowly increased the force of his smacks, making each a little harder and faster until he was spanking full force, the palm of his hand striking loudly against the hot trembling flesh.
Roland hissed between his teeth and shifted his hips. As Locke continued to spank him hard, he cried out again and resumed struggling. "Stop! It hurts!" he begged.
"As you hurt me, you selfish bastard." Locke wrapped his free arm around Roland's waist, holding him in place, and slapped his bottom again and again, ignoring the wails of pain and protest.
"Ouch....oh!....Stop, please.....ow....I can't take it....stop!....ow....OWWWW!"
Only when his own hand hurt too much to continue did Locke pause. Breathing hard, he rested his aching palm against the prince's fire-red bottom, felt it shake with the force of the sobs wracking the slender body.
It was some time before the prince was able to speak. "It was only a game," he cried. "I wanted you, but I was afraid to ask...."
"You were afraid to ask someone who could say no. So you preyed upon one who could not refuse."
"I'm sorry. I didn't think....I meant no real harm...."
Locke reached for the paddle.
"No, no, please!" Roland bucked, but Locke was the stronger of the two and restrained him easily.
The first swat elicited a howl of pain, the second a scream. Locke paddled long and vigorously, taking grim satisfaction in the solid whap! of wood meeting bare flesh.
He did not stop until Roland's bottom was a dark, mottled purple-red and Roland was crying so hard he could no longer form words or pleas. Then, as Roland had done to him the night before, Locke pushed Roland off his lap onto the hard floor. "Give me the gold and get out."
Roland curled himself into a ball and wept. Locke cursed and started to throw the straw through the bars on the window. He had thought he would feel pleased to get the better of the one who had tormented him. Instead, unable to keep his eyes from the sobbing prince, he felt vaguely guilty.
He finished with the straw and swiftly stacked the bars of gold. Behind him, Roland still had not moved nor gained control of his tears. "Dawn approaches," Locke warned, his voice more gentle.
The prince tried to sit up, winced at the pain, and settled for kneeling on the floor at Locke's feet. Locke put a hand on Roland's head and stroked his hair in an uncertain gesture of comfort. "Come, prince. I was not so hard on you, surely. The pain will fade in a day or so. By morning, most likely."
Roland threw his arms around Locke's waist and buried his face in Locke's stomach. "You don't understand," he wept. "I WANT the pain. I WANT what you just did to me."
Locke stared down at the tousled dark hair, uncertain. That Roland derived pleasure from being spanked was no surprise. But Locke still did not understand the grief. Not knowing what to say, he waited silently.
"I've spanked men before," Roland cried. "Prisoners, like you. They all let me do as I wished. As you said, none dared refuse. But the whole time I spanked them, I wished they were spanking me instead. I dreamed of someone doing what you just did. Taking control. Paying me back."
"I imagine they dreamed of it, too," Locke said dryly. "Why on earth didn't you simply find another man who shared your interests? A free man not in fear for his life?"
"I was ashamed to ask someone for....that." Roland's head drooped even lower, and his cries took on a new intensity.
He'll make himself ill, Locke thought. Worse, he won't pull himself together before the king comes, and we'll both end up in the torture chamber.
He knelt on the floor beside Roland, placing his hand firmly under Roland's chin to lift his head. "Now listen to me," he said firmly. "There's no shame in what you want. Surely, you were not insensible to MY reaction to being spanked last night."
"But you're a peasant. I'm a prince."
Locke bit back his annoyance and answered reasonably. "A prince is still a man, with a man's needs," he said. "It is true in your daily life you must be able to issue commands with assurance. That is your role. But in the bedroom, roles can be reversed with none the wiser."
A hint of hope sparkled in Roland's eyes.
Locke seized upon it. "There is no shame in what you want," he repeated. "The only shame lies in taking it by force."
Roland put a hand to his backside. Winced. "That I shall never do again. You have my word. But I still have no one willing to provide....what I want. And I am still too embarrassed to seek such a person."
An idea blossomed in Locke's mind. An insane plot, several thousand times more dangerous than any story his father had ever concocted. He fought to silence himself. Failed.
"I've no taste for life at court, and frankly, I can't stand your father. But if you will come to visit me at my father's mill, I will take your bare bottom across my knee and spank it to your heart's delight." Locke tried to speak nonchalantly, but his mouth was dry.
Roland's eyes glowed with sudden hope. "I will have to disguise myself, travel as a peasant. I've done it before....no one much cares where the king's middle son goes anyway." He rose to his feet, decision made. "I'll do it, Locke. I swear I will. Look for me when the moon is full."
Then he hesitated. Lowered his eyes. Locke was sure he was ready to back out already, but instead he whispered, "Can I....? I mean, I did enjoy.... Would you let me spank you again, too?"
Just the thought made Locke's _c_o_c_k_ jump to attention like an unruly soldier caught off grounds. He laughed. "Very well, prince. At the next full moon, we will exchange spankings." ++++++++++
"Are you all right, boy? Are you sure you're all right?" Locke's father embraced him, held him at arm's length to stare into his face, then embraced him again. "I'm so sorry, lad. I never for a moment thought the king would believe...."
"All is well, father." Looking at the distraught old man, Locke found he did not have it in him to commit patricide. Or even to utter reproach. The old dreamer was what he was, and Locke loved him regardless.
Locke's father heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Thank the gods that's over. I was frantic thinking I'd sent my eldest son to his death. How could I have done such a terrible thing? I'll never tell anything but the truth, ever again. I swear it. If I ever stray a word from the truth, may my tongue be cut out, and my ears...."
"What news since I've been gone, father?" Locke cut in smoothly, knowing from long experience that his father's self-recriminations could last even longer than his most embellished stories.
The old man's eyes lit up in delight. "Such magnificent doings, Locke. Your younger brother planted a seed that grew a thousand feet in the air and led to a ruby castle in the sky. A foul-tempered giant lives there, but his lover's a good sort, and your brother is quite sure he can sneak out with some of the riches. Oh, and your sister's pet goose laid an egg of solid gold."
"Oh, father," sighed Locke.
His father squeezed his arm. "And with you, Locke? What news?"
Locke smiled. "While I was in the dungeon, I met the king's middle son, Prince Roland. He took quite a liking to me. In fact, at the next full moon, he'll visit me here. So I can spank him. Then he's going to spank me, as we've both got a taste for it."
Locke's father roared with delighted laughter. "That's the spirit, lad. You're as fine a storyteller as your father. Looking at your face, I almost believed you myself!"