Over the next several days, Durand tested and surveyed Lucien’s knowledge of history, mathematics, economics, the sciences, even his mastery of artistic skill and the written word—all of which the young man was amazingly accomplished in.   The tutor had been looking for a gap in the boy’s knowledge, something which he was certain he would find considering Lucien had not kept a proper tutor for more than a few months at a time over the last several years.   Where then had the Prince learned so much?   Who had assisted him before the unfortunate string of recent tutors?

As for the Prince’s behavior, there had been no further incidents with inappropriate sexual liaisons, and no more outbursts.   Outwardly at least, Lucien was complying with Durand’s instructions, but the older man knew such compliance was unlikely to last.   The Prince was acting formal and terse, and seemed to be obeying Durand as a way to show his tutor that he could behave when he wished, and that he deserved his royal title.   But Durand knew that once the young man felt he’d made his point, or when he grew bored, Lucien was likely to try to test his limits once more.

His suspicions were confirmed one day when he spied the Prince speaking with—or rather riling at—Ansel.   Lucien appeared to be irate over a trivial matter of goat milk in his afternoon tea, and he was telling the unfortunate servant in no uncertain terms how displeased he was.

Ansel was bearing it with good graces, looking resigned, remorseful, and slightly upset.   Durand’s eyes narrowed as Lucien gesticulated grandly.  

“How hard is it to follow simple instructions?!” the Prince spat, managing to look put-upon.

“I apologize, your Highness.   I should have remembered.”

“Yes, you should have!   You—”

The boy stopped midsentence when he suddenly caught his tutor’s eye.   Immediately, he blanched and stammered an apology to Ansel, but it was too late.

“I need a moment of his Highness’ time,” Durand said sternly, taking the young man’s arm and yanking him down the hall.

“W-why are you so upset?” Lucien sputtered defensively as he was unceremoniously dragged into his room.  “Ansel’s just a servant!”

Once Durand had shut the door, the Prince received a hard thwack to his ass for the remark.   As the young man was still slightly tender from his last session under the Durand’s firm hand, the pain was considerable.

“Only a servant?” the older man spat, bending Lucien face-down over the arm of one plush chair.  “Yes, only one of the people who has cared and worried for you every day of your ungrateful life!”

Whack!

“All right!   I’m sorry!” the boy whimpered.   As much as he’d fantasized about his tutor’s hands on him—even envisioning a playful spanking—Lucien had forgotten how much the real thing hurt.   Instinctively, his own hands came up to ward off his tutor’s blows.

Lucien heard the man click his tongue, and in the next instant, his hands were tied behind his back and he was tossed prostrate across the bed.   He felt Durand yank his pants down roughly before the man began spanking him in earnest.

“I apologized!” Lucien whimpered, tears springing to the corners of his eyes.

Smack!

“Please!   I mean it, I’m sorry!”

“Are you truly?” Durand asked as he hovered over him.

“Yes!” The Prince turned his head and his tear-stained face gazing up at the other man pleadingly.  

Durand smacked him again and Lucien added regretfully, “Yes, Sir!”

The young man thought he saw the ghost of a smile pass over his tutor’s face, and this time after Durand’s hand came down to spank him, he felt his fingers slip down between the cleft of his ass.   Lucien gasped.

Above him, Durand grazed the boy’s exposed hole and felt him shudder.

“You are an incorrigible brat,” he said in a low, rumbling tone.

“Yes,” Lucien mewled.

“One who can’t be trusted,” Durand added.   As he spoke, he slapped the boy’s hip, more as a reminder that they were not yet finished than anything else.

He had the young man right where he wanted him—helpless beneath him and thoroughly tenderized.   Now Durand just had to keep him there.

“How will I ever be able to let you go if you can’t be trusted?”

Lucien didn’t answer, just sniffed back his tears and wondered what was coming next.   He felt the man’s strong hands grip his sore cheeks and winced, yet the sensation was somehow gratifying.   Durand’s touch was possessive and made the young blond want to revel in his helplessness.

“I suppose,” Durand went on, “that I will have to find a way to tame you.”

The man was teasing him now, Lucien realized, and taking advantage of his vulnerable position.   Durand continued to give him light, stinging slaps while alternatively caressing the taut little bud between the boy’s blushing cheeks.   It was a combination that had Lucien rocking his hips for more after only a few minutes.

Durand smiled as he saw the boy swaying back to meet his hands.   He didn’t think the blond even heard the sweet, plaintive whimpers coming from his mouth.   The dark-haired man could see his charge was growing ripe for the next stage of the game.

Bending down, he kissed one apple-red mound after giving it a small, playful smack.   He continued to switch back and forth, administering pain and pleasure in turns until he saw the Prince’s eyes shut and his lips part with a moan.   Lucien’s head had fallen to rest on the bed while his ass remained high in the air, encouraging the man’s attentions.   Durand felt his loins tighten at the stirring sight.   By heaven, the boy was beautiful like this.   Spreading the Prince’s buttocks, he gazed at the rosy portal hidden there.  

Below him, Lucien was biting his lip in frustration.   He couldn’t tell if the other man was trying to punish or please him.   After every slap came the warm, soft touch of lips over his tender flesh.   Then, he felt his tutor pause and Lucien wondered if the session had come to an end when suddenly a heated kiss was placed right over his pucker.

He gasped loud and shamelessly.   When a wet tongue darted out to run a slick trail up along his crack, the young man thought he might lose his mind.   His body trembled, inflamed but unable to relax as Durand occasionally administered a stinging smack to the side of his hips or thighs.

“Such a naughty little libertine, aren’t you?” came his tutor’s husky voice.

“Yes…Sir,” the Prince replied, unable to tell if Durand was teasing or shaming him.

“What do you want, Lucien?”

The use of his first name, especially spoken with such intensity, made the boy quiver all over.   “More,” was all he could manage in reply.

“And why should I comply?” the dark-haired man asked, pulling away.

Lucien lifted his head, looking stricken from the loss of the man’s hands upon him.

“I-I’ll be good, Sir,” he sputtered.   The young man was still positioned enticingly, and as he glanced over his shoulder, their eyes met.   Durand looked back at him skeptically.

“I believe you would say anything just to get what you want, your Highness.   Perhaps I should leave you now to teach you a lesson.”

Lucien frowned when he heard Durand address him by his formal title.   He’d rather liked the sound of his name on the man’s lips.

“I said I would behave,” he pleaded.

“I’ve heard that before,” his tutor replied, crossing his arms.

Contrary to his words and demeanor, however, Durand was pleased.   The Prince’s begging was more sincere and less demanding than it had been the last time he had punished him.   Lucien was making progress.

He watched as the young man’s fists clenched in frustration.   The boy was clearly wondering how he could convince his reluctant tutor to finish what he’d begun.

“I know I didn’t keep my word before.   I’m sorry.   Please, give me another chance.”

“Why?”

The simple question seemed to throw the young man.   His face fell.

“I can’t think of anything,” he finally said, miserably burying his face in the sheets.

To his surprise, he felt Durand’s heat return as the man leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Good answer.”

And it had been.   Durand knew that Lucien was used to getting what he wanted just because of who he was.   For the boy to realize that he had no reason to demand special treatment was yet another step in the right direction.   And Durand was more pleased than he should’ve been that he would now be able to continue his agenda with the handsome young man.

Sliding his hands along Lucien’s sides, he gripped the Prince’s hips and kissed down his lower back.   When he reached the swell of the boy’s backside, he grazed the skin with his tongue, and ever so slowly moved his lips over the tight little rosebud waiting for him.

Lucien gave a heady mewl of satisfaction as Durand began tonguing him.   It felt like heaven, but Lucien noticed that the intense sensations coursing through him were somehow different from what he usually felt.   Without doubt the feeling was physically stirring, but there was something…deeper hidden behind the sweetness enveloping his body.   Lucien couldn’t name it, but it was a combination of Durand’s forcefulness, his masculine smell, and the helplessness Lucien felt in his presence.

The young man still wasn’t certain why his answer had pleased his tutor, but it eased the tension inside of him that it had.   Up until then, Lucien hadn’t realized how much he secretly yearned for the man’s approval.   It struck the Prince that he didn’t just want to win a battle of wills with this man; he wanted to earn Jules Durand’s respect.   Of course, he also had to admit he wanted to earn more of the handsome man’s sexual attentions as well.   He was only human after all.

And a man would have to be half-dead not to want more of this pleasure!   Durand’s tongue felt as smooth as silk as it plunged in and out of his body.   Already the blond’s cock was leaking onto the sheets beneath him.   So when the man behind him took the erection in hand, Lucien thought he might pass out from the electric rapture that shot through him.

“Thank you, Sir!” he shouted blindly.

The Prince felt rather than heard Durand’s amused chuckle at this outburst, but he was too far gone to care.   His hips were undulating to an ever-increasing rhythm—swaying back to force the man’s tongue deep inside him, then moving forward to slide his cock against the hand enveloping him.   Oh god!   Lucien never wanted it to stop!   Yet already he could feel his orgasm stirring deep within.   He’d always enjoyed dragging out his ecstasy for as long as possible, enjoying the sweet torture.   But under Durand’s masterful strokes, any remnants of control shattered.

All too quickly he succumbed, crying out in a thready, choked voice as ribbons of come stained the sheets, one after another.   The force of his climax left him winded.   He collapsed on his side and felt Durand untie his wrists.   Lucien had to admit that being bound had added a stirringly wicked element to the counter.

There was no question that his tutor brought something out in him that he had never felt before.   Durand was so sure of himself, the embodiment of confidence and discipline.   Lucien couldn’t help but admire it, but there was more than that.   He felt safe with him in a way that made it perfectly natural to surrender himself to his care.  

With so many demands pressing upon him, Lucien had always felt burdened.   Only his mother had ever been able to ease that stress, and after her death, only sex.   But sex was usually a less fulfilling, more fleeting solution.   So why did it feel like so much more when Durand touched him?

Lucien pushed the questions from his mind and simply enjoyed the afterglow of his release, feeling quite content.   The bed shifted as Durand sat down next to him.   He took one of the boy’s wrists in hand and began to massage it where the ties had pressed too deeply into the skin.   The gentle touch was unexpected, and Lucien looked up at him with uncertainty.

“Am I really a brat?”

“Yes,” Durand replied without hesitation, but his voice was not harsh.

“Are you still mad I yelled at Ansel?”

“As long as it was the last time, no.”

The Prince’s eyes looked away, shame reflected in their blue depths.

“It was the last time.”

“Good.”

“How do you know I’m not lying, like before?” His shame now filled his voice as well.

“I believe you.”

Lucien met his eyes again and smiled.   “Thank you.” Then he sat up, his demeanor taking on a new resolve.   “I won’t give you cause to doubt me again.”

He was rewarded with a grin.

“Yes, I know,” Durand said, giving the Prince’s hands a pat as he stood.   “I will see you tomorrow for your lessons.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Lucien couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed when the man left.   Being near him felt…good.   He wondered when he had stopped thinking of Durand as a nuisance to be manipulated and discarded, and started thinking of him as a man whom he respected.   One thing had not changed, however: he still desired him.  

After Durand left he sat in his quarters for a long time, deep in thought.   He going to have to slowly change his tactics.   The effectiveness of corporal (and sexual) punishment had done its job—Lucien would be unlikely to act out now that he craved Durand’s attention and feared his wrath.   Durand was confident that the Prince’s former defiant, libidinous behavior was curbed, but that would only take him so far.   Also, the man was worried that he was becoming too personally involved with the handsome young Prince.   It was time for a more subtle approach.   However, Durand would have to understand his charge better before he proceeded, and for that he needed someone who knew Lucien well.

“Ansel, have you a moment to spare?” Durand asked the man the next afternoon after dismissing Lucien, who had just finished rattling off the last 27 heirs to the royal throne back into the Warring Clans period and beyond.  

“Of course, Sir.”

They walked together to his apartments and Durand bid the man sit down.

“Is there something amiss, Sir?” the man asked anxiously.   “Something with his Highness?   He seemed to be doing better of late.”

Durand smiled to put the servant at ease.   “Yes, he is improving.   However, he is at a delicate stage, and I feel I need more information before I proceed.”

“What kind of information?” Ansel asked, looking uncomfortable.

“Background about his childhood, his education, etc.”

“Oh.” The servant breathed a sigh of relief.   “I thought you were going to ask about his liaisons or something of a more personal nature.”

“No, I will spare you that,” Durand replied with a chuckle.   “I am curious though, that with all of the Prince’s rather…unruly behavior, you and the other servants are never anything but patient with him.”

Ansel shrugged.   “I could say it is my duty, Sir, which it is, but I would serve him with patience and kindness no matter.   He may act out, but it is not difficult to see that his Highness has a good heart…and that he is a very lonely young man.”

“You speak of his Highness very affectionately.   I can only assume he wasn’t always so difficult.”

“Oh, no, Sir.   He was a very polite, happy child.”

Durand studied him, briefly wondering if the loyal servant would lie to cover for his Prince.   “Tell me then, Ansel, when did that happy child turn into the incorrigible young man he is today?”

The servant hesitated.  “When he was about thirteen, Sir.”

“Just when he was hitting puberty you mean.   Interesting.”

Ansel stiffened and said in a taciturn voice, “When his mother, Her Majesty, passed away.”

Durand winced and berated himself for every kind of fool for not realizing.   It was quite unlike him to forget such a thing, but then he had not been in the country at the time.

“My apologies,” the tutor said quickly.   “It was tactless of me to overlook such an event.” He paused as Ansel slowly defrosted.  “Lucien was close to his mother?”

“Quite, Sir.   He adored her, and Her Majesty was his only teacher as a boy.”

Nodding, Durand processed this information.   It made perfect sense, and he was rather ashamed he hadn’t guessed the root of Lucien’s rebelliousness.

“Although…” the servant continued, fidgeting, “his Highness always did have a stubborn streak, even with her.”

Durand chuckled.

“And his relationship with his father?”

Ansel gave a sigh.   “It is not what it should be.”

“By who’s fault?”

“It is not really my place to say, Sir.”

Durand could see the question made the servant uneasy and tried to waylay his concerns.   “We are not speaking of a King and Prince now, and no word of our discussion will ever reach their ears.   We are merely discussing a father and his son—a son who has been put under my charge.   I cannot help him if I don’t know what is troubling him.  “

When the servant continued to hesitate, Durand added, “Ansel, with all I have already seen of Lucien, it is a bit late to question my trustworthiness.”

The other man gave a frown, but seemed to concede the point.

“I just…I don’t wish to say anything against his Majesty, but…” Ansel began slowly.  “He has been hard on Prince Lucien.   His Majesty is not a cruel man; he has not been abusive toward him.   However, he did not give the boy the support he needed after her Majesty passed away.   I believe he was hurting to deeply to help console anyone else, so who can blame him?   But the grief hardened him.   I believe when he looks at his son, it reminds him of her Majesty, and it pains him.   If I were to venture a guess, I would say that deep down, he is afraid of feeling such loss again.   So he keeps his son at a distance and tries to push him, in his own way, to be strong.   Unfortunately, I think it has ended up wounding the Prince rather than strengthening him.”

Durand gazed at the man in wonder.   Though he knew servants were often considered the eyes and ears of many a wealthy household, it amazed him how much came under their scrutiny.   He would not have thought Ansel was so observant and introspective, but he was glad of it.

“Thank you, Ansel,” he said with sincere gratitude.   “You’ve been very helpful.”

The servant nodded.   “The Prince is under my care as well.   I only want to see him happy.”

“Will there be anything else?” he added.

“No.   Thank you again.”

“Very well, Sir.” Ansel stood and bowed, and Durand was left with his thoughts.