Gifted Courtesans

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How do you turn a boy into a man? Not like this.
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"You're my Advisor damnit, advise me." the muscled beast of a man growled, resting his chin on his hand, his other hand clasping a goblet of wine which he drank from often but seldom seemed less than half full, a servant never far away with a refill for the ageing King.

"Sire, I am your Advisor but I am also your friend..." the younger Advisor spoke, in the gentlest of tones, his smile wax and patient, "The young prince is doing just fine, I do not see the issue here."

"He is weak!" the King barked sharply, causing the Advisor to take a half step back, though his smile remained plaintive, "Yes, he may not have your roaring physique, but-"

"He has his mother's physique." the King cut in, his harsh tone lessened at the mention of the boy's mother, since passed.

The Advisor hesitated a breathe, he couldn't really fault the king on that accurate assessment. He recalled the Queen in her prime, slender but with curves to make any man lust, buxom and bright, her eyes wide and innocent, though the Advisor knew they had been far from it.

"He has other strengths my King, he is intelligent, kind, benevolent, polite, well read, well spoken, the people love him," the Advisor went on.

"But he. Is. Weak!" repeated the King, exasperation bleeding into his tone.

The Advisor sighed softly and thought for a moment, "The boy loves to ride?" he said.

"Yes yes that's true enough," the King conceded, no hint of begrudging, "but not for a love of cavalry! To feel the wind through his hair and to see the beauty of the world. Pah, as a second son he would have made for a fine statesman and poet. But he is not the second son."

"He will make a fine King, Sire."

"Unless war should come to pass on our lands," his expression darkened, "which I fear it may."

"Perhaps he could marry a warrior Queen?" The Advisor suggested.

The King looked at the man, ten years his junior his Advisor had at first been his Squire in the first war, he had seldom spoken to the boy at first but had, after years of campaigning, found he offered sound wisdom in his words, a bright man, something he often needed to guide his sword arm.

"Perhaps." The King sighed, taking a drink of his wine, "But what would his enemies say of him? He hides back in his castle while he sends his woman off to war? Our name would be a laughing stock."

"You have built a strong Kingdom sire, your Grandson, born of a warrior Queen would be strong indeed."

"If they could survive my son's reign..." the King filled in.

The Advisor sighed, sitting on the steps before the throne, his tone becoming more casual, "What were you like, at his age I mean?"

The King reclined and thought back, "I was strong, I recall that much, but not because I trained, it was just my body." the King let out a sudden, sharp laugh and his Advisor looked at him, confused but amused at the sudden outburst, "Damnit all you know what? I loved to paint. I aspired to be a painter! Me! Warrior King Born!" he laughed again and his Advisor grinned.

"So what turned an aspiring painter into Warrior King Born, hm?"

The King opened his mouth to speak then hesitated, leaning back in his throne and glancing around, his voice dropping, "Truth be told, I was a bit of a scoundrel."

"Sneaking out? That sort of thing?"

The King coughed, "More like er, sneaking in." He caught the Advisors look of incomprehension, "...There wasn't a serving girls chambers I didn't at some point visit, you see..."

"Oh."

"....Or the Queen's sisters for that matter."

"Oh..."

"Come to think of it when my father remarried on the night of his wedding he got so drunk he passed out, and his new buxom bride got so smashed she didn't realise it was me who-"

"I think I get the picture, Sire."

The King blinked, reminding himself and glancing suspiciously at the inhibition-lowering wine, "Yes. Well. Has the boy...?"

The Advisor shook his head, "Not to my knowledge."

The King sighed, "The girls are not interested in him."

"I wouldn't say that your grace, he is after all a Prince, and while he may not be bulging with muscle they think he is plenty attractive."

"Then why?"

"Perhaps he is lacking in self-confidence? He is, after all, following in your footsteps. He knows what he is just as well as you do."

"That's true enough." The King sighed, drinking once more from his wine, "Dash it all, what is there we can do?"

The Advisor opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated and shook his head.

The King narrowed his eyes, "No now, come on my lad. If it's a bad idea I'll say so and not hold you in contempt for it."

The Advisor looked to his King and knew it to be true, "We could pay for him to spend a night with a woman."

The King paused, "That's a bad idea."

"I know."

"Do it anyway." The King grinned.

The Advisor nodded and smiled, "I'll send a guard to fetch a fine woman and bring her-"

"No! No." The King said, controlling his outburst, "No she mustn't be brought here, a whore on palace grounds, imagine the repercussions."

The Advisor thought for a moment and nodded, "Apologies Sire, I was getting ahead of myself."

"You've a tend to do that boy, worry not." Despite the fact that they were both over their fifties, ever since being his squire the Advisor was and, he was sure, would always be, 'boy', "Find a whore house in the city that is of worth, cost and discretion. Leave him there for the night and give the crimson ladies instructions that despite any... Short givings, that he is to be the best they've ever had. Ask them their price for the service, then pay double."

The Advisor stood and bowed, "As you command, so it shall be."

The King watched as his Advisor and sole friend throughout the years departed his hall and beckoned for a serving girl to bring him more wine.

-----

Prince Ninian sat in the back of the horse-drawn carriage, tempted to peek through the curtains onto the streets of the city, stopped only by his companions watchful gaze. The man with him was his father's trusted Advisor and a man who, admittedly, the Prince didn't know too well, was well respected for the aid and near lifelong service he had given to his father.

The Prince was embarrassed, his Father had told him this was a gift, a night of fun as a reward for the progress he had made in his studies, but he knew when his Father was lying. Chances were his Father, a strong man, was himself embarrassed at having a son who, in just another couple of winters would be in his twentieth year without having courted, practically a scandal if it got out.

Lost in the thoughts of his embarrassment he heard a knock on the roof of the rumbling carriage from the driver and the Advisor too perked up at the noise.

"We'll be arriving in just a moment. The... Facility is in a walled courtyard so there are no possibilities of you being seen arriving or departing. I will be here to collect you five hours after sunrise tomorrow. Understand?"

The Prince nodded meekly, his eyes averted, the Advisor sighed.

"Listen," the Advisor started, but he checked himself, this wasn't his friend the King he was speaking to, "My Prince, regardless of your tastes," the Prince made to speak but was waved to silence, "whatever they may be, there are some of the most beautiful women in the world waiting for you, I know how you feel, I do. But, try and enjoy yourself?"

The Prince made to speak, but stopped himself, just nodding. He wasn't gay, he wasn't anything really, he just wanted to focus on his studies and education, not wanting to devote any time to a courtship which he considered to be lengthy, dull affairs. But this at least would be but one night away from his books and he knew, following it, no one would be able to call him without experience. He looked at the Advisor, the man was younger than his father and in much better health, it occurred to him then that it was likely this man would live to serve two Kings.

The Advisor nodded amicably and looked away, but turned back as the Prince spoke, his voice soft and light, feminine without the gruffness of his father, "What is your name?"

The Advisor hesitated, no one ever used his name, merely his title, "Er, Eogan, Sire."

The Prince nodded and sighed a little, "Eogan... I just wanted to thank you, for your service to my Father and to me. It has not gone unnoticed."

Eogan, surprised at the gratitude bowed his head graciously, "Thank you."

"You have a wife? Children?"

"Yes, Sire? Two."

"And they are well?"

Eogan nodded and the Prince smiled as the coach rumbled to a stop, "Good."

Eogan waited for the driver to open the door and stepped from the warm interior into the world outside, winter was close, a frost on the ground as evening began to set in. He watched as his future King stepped down from the box, his hair, long and blonde tied back in a tight ponytail, it was in fashion for men, he knew, but the King disapproved all the same.

There was very little similarity between the two as the boy in many ways took after his mother, lacking his Father's strength, brashness, outspokenness and all-around warrior atmosphere, instead, he was gentle, lithe, curved at the hips, beautiful more than handsome according to the women.

What Father and Son did share, however, making no one doubt the boy's lineage was their eyes. Violet like royal silks they were truly amazing, glistening and flecked with gold, only the firstborn of the family line bore the eyes, a trait the priests said signified their inherent destiny to rule.

As Ninian stepped from the coach, his breath hanging in the cool air he turned, watching as, with a nod, Eogan climbed back up into the carriage, closing the door behind him, leaving the Prince almost alone as it began to pull away.

He turned, looking towards the door of the building, a woman standing, leaning against the door, smiling excitedly as she looked him up and down appraisingly.

Swallowing he straightened his back and stepped towards her, more out of a keenness to get out of the pressing cold than to get in and start the evening's entertainment.

The woman at the door was tall, likely in part to a high pair of heels that she wore, her skirts long and her bodice tight, causing her already ample bust to seem swelled through the top she wore, silky and beautiful, covered her cleavage and arms down to the wrists. She had a smile that said she spent most of the day wearing it and lines on her face that showed her to be in her forties or fifties. Her hair was shoulder length, shorter than his and raven black with a single white streak. She curtseyed, "My Prince, we are delighted to have you were with us this evening."

She admired his style, his fine fashion and his long hair, but it was his eyes that caught her, so soft and affectionate, as he looked at her, a stranger by all regards, she felt warm, as if she was in the company of a dear friend.

Not knowing what was to come the prince fell back onto protocol, it was, he knew, correct to almost exclusively ignore ladies of the night, but given that for tonight he would be their esteemed guest, it seemed proper to treat them as equal.

With this in mind he took her hand in his and bowed to her, kissing it before standing, "Please, given why I have been, ah, sent here tonight, I don't think there's much need for the formality of titles... My name is Ninian."

The woman flushed with colour as the royal prince bowed to kiss her hand. Her, her of all people! She had expected him to be shy and reserved, but it seemed he was in a way hiding his embarrassment and shyness behind a wall of practised etiquette, like a mask.

"Oh you're far too kind Ninian, but don't be surprised if some of the girls stick to calling you, 'my Prince', they are very delighted to have you visit us... May I ask," she asked, cautiously and curiously, "Why you picked my establishment in particular?"

The Prince tilted his head, gently releasing her hand, "I believe my Advisor, who prides himself on knowing everything there is to know about this city, up until his search to find somewhere suitable for me, hadn't heard of you." he smiled, "He took that as a mark of your discreteness which, I'm sure you understand, is of the utmost importance. And please, do share your beautiful name?"

She had to stop herself from biting her lip, she didn't want her lipstick to mar her white smile, after all, "My name is Helena." She thought for a moment about his reasoning, it made sense, but she wondered if the Advisor had known just why they were so discreet.

As she moved to step inside, beckoning to him with a smile, she realised it didn't really matter, once they got to the fun the Prince's mask would slip and they would see just who he really was.

He stepped inside to the warm embrace of her house of ill repute, wine, warm candlelight, silks of reds and purples greeted him along with pictures depicting almost naked women of no small beauty.

Draped alluringly across seemingly every piece of furniture and leaning against every wall was a woman, wearing dresses of fine silks and kinds of cotton, bright in colour and drawing attention to each of their particular proudest assets.

He'd never seen such a bounty of women, lewd displays of cleavage, alluring gazes and things completely new to him.

Off to the side, gathered around a side door were women of colour, dark-skinned girls wearing crimsons and blacks, their bodies as curvaceous and buxom as the rest, but their skin ranging from a copper glow to an almost ebony darkness.

A woman with skin almost as black as night smiled at him, her gleaming teeth and eyes standing out on the otherwise dark palette. Conversely, standing to one side was a girl he saw for a split moment, her skin seemingly as white as clouds.

Helena's voice caught his attention, but he missed what she had said, so caught up in the staring eyes of all the women.

"Pardon?"

"I asked which you would like first?" Helena smiled, a hand open towards the women.

Ninian let his gaze wander once more over the collected beauties, blondes, brunettes, redheads, girls as thin as sticks, curved like goddess' of fertility. He truly had his pick.

He bit his lip before looking towards Helena, "What of the girls I don't pick?"

She shrugged, "We have all been paid for, for the evening, they will be waiting, should your desires change."

He frowned a little as he looked around, each doing their best to draw his attention, legs on display, chests pushed out, they wanted to be the one the prince picked, his first.

He realised in a moment of clarity that whoever he chose, he would disappoint the multitude of others waiting to be picked, and that gave him pause.

They were all exceptionally beautiful, but he knew nothing about them, they were all strangers, yet doubtless, they knew much of him, the Royals were hardly afforded much of a private life, every happening subject to gossip that spread among the people.

"Helena," he asked, looking towards her, "who would you suggest?"

Helena looked surprised, clearly caught off guard as her mouth opened, then closed, hesitating as she let her eyes shift to the gathered women. With a little bit of amusement Ninian noticed that every eye was now on the woman and not himself.

"You," she said after a pause many of the women instantly relaxing their poses, many looking slightly disappointed, as she singled out a single woman with her gaze "Come take the Prince to the prepared chamber."

His eyes were drawn to a single girl who stepped forward, her hair long and sleek, raven black, her skin honied, like she spent much time in the sun and her stature less intimidating than many of the others, slender with a modest bust and around his own height.

Her smile was beautiful, emanating her victory as she reached out for his hand.

Graciously he took it and, before he could speak, she tugged him towards her, leading him by the hand past the women who were now speaking in soft whispers, talking about the one who had, in their words, 'won him'.

He passed through corridors of doors, each likely leading to bedrooms of varying opulence that in some ways rivalled his own palace, it made him curious as to what made them so popular that they could afford the luxuries this place seemingly offered.

"Er, my name is Ninian, what is yours, fair Lady?" he asked, feeling a little rising anxiety, until this point he had been able to employ his statecraft, addressing crowds, dealing with what had essentially been diplomacy, but now, as he was led through the building by his buxom companion, her breasts bouncing with each hurried step in her bodice he realised he was now in a more intimate one on one scenario where he was expected to... Perform.

She looked over her shoulder at him and grinned, her teeth perfectly white and straight, "Oh I know who you are, my Prince, my name is Cherry." she blew him a kiss with her cherry coloured lipstick and winked as she paused at a door, opening it and stepping inside.

Inside was a warm interior, cosy but not cramped inside, a table and chairs near a heavily shuttered window, fruit and wine on the table, the majority of the room dominated by a spacious looking bed.

As his eyes scanned the room he heard the door click behind him, he turned to see her stepping around, an almost predatory smirk on her full lips, "Is your name really Cherry?"

She stepped to the table, collecting two goblets and skillfully filling them with fine red wine. She hesitated only briefly at the question, glancing over at him as she shook her head, "No, my Prince."

"Then what is?" he asked, standing straight, formally.

"Would you not prefer to just know me as Cherry? And we can go about discovering your lusts and I can go about sating them..." she stepped towards him, every movement erotic, the sway of her hips, the flicker of her eyelashes, the slight smirk she always wore.

"I would prefer to know the first person I..."

"Bed?" she offered, pushing the wine into his hand.

He took a sip to steady his mounting nerves, "Ah, quite. Anyway, I would prefer to know them, the real them."

"That is the opposite of what we typically do, my Prince, people come here to live out fantasies, we are whoever they want us to be, partners, lovers, girlfriends... No one wants who we really are."

He eyed her questioningly.

"I could be a princess for you, a woman from foreign lands come to seek the Prince of her heart," she said with soft lustful words, moving to sit on the bed, crossing one leg over the other, her skirts riding up immodestly, but not enough to display her virtue.

"But what are you really?" he asked.

"A woman called Lucia who has been paid very well to ensure you leave satisfied." she said, candidly.

That was his concern and she expertly read his expression, she laughed, a warm rich sound.

"Oh, my Prince! You think because you have paid for this service we are being forced into this?" she grinned and patted the bed beside her. He hesitated but moved to join her. After he had sat she scooted closer to him, "I would have paid my life savings for ten minutes with you."

He took another long drink of his wine and looked ahead, the girl so close to him he could feel her warmth against his arm, though she wasn't touching him, "Why do you think Helena picked you?" he asked.

He felt her fingertips on his chin, turning his head to face her, her eyes were a beautiful blue, scanning over his face as she smirked, examining him, "Mm, you have the most beautiful eyes, I've never seen violet eyes before, they're striking... And those little flecks of gold... God's, I could look into your eyes all day," she smiled, "and I think... I think it was because Helena recognised your shyness." she upended her wine, draining it in a single long drink and, after a moment's hesitation, he followed suit.