I say nothing until Rathyn pets me gently along the back of the neck. “You may speak.”
I nod solemnly. “I do.”
I hear a scoff and see Jyrion leaning forward, his eyes on me. “You cannot be trusted. Prove it.” He must be speaking English for my benefit.
I blink up at him briefly and then turn my gaze back to the floor.
Rathyn’s voice is low and hollow when he says, “My companion is well-trained. He realizes the error of his ways and has learned his lesson. He is here today, leashed. Is that not enough?”
“And you achieved obedience so quickly? I do not believe it with someone so…wild.”
“Let him prove it,” Eissa says, and a Vyastil I don’t recognize nods.
Rathyn returns the gesture and then points to the floor. I don’t even let myself second-guess it, just sink to my knees and stare up at him.
“What are you?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine.
“Your companion.”
He nods. “And who do you serve?”
“You.”
Rathyn turns his gaze back to the panel, but I just look at him, unable to tear my gaze away.
“Human,” Jyrion sneers, and I turn my gaze to the floor. Apparently, you’re not supposed to look at princes. It’s an easy task. I don’t want to see his annoying face anyway. “Kneel at my feet.”
I am viscerally repulsed by his request, and it takes me probably a moment too long to obey. But this is for Rathyn. This is for us. I stand and walk three steps, then drop to my knees in front of him.
He kneels down and reaches out, and I hear Rathyn make a growling hiss, but Jyrion doesn’t stop. He grips me by the cage and squeezes. The metal holds, and I’m grateful that I can’t feel his touch.
“What is this?”
“His cage,” Rathyn says, his voice still full of anger at Jyrion having the nerve to be this close. “His cum is mine. He does not release for anyone but me. Including himself.”
Someone in the room laughs. “We all know how they love to tug on their little penises. Can you really not pleasure yourself?”
I say nothing, and then Rathyn says, “He cannot.”
The Vyastil laughs again. “Prove it.”
Rathyn says something rapid and angry in Eretharian, and the room erupts into the song of their language. It goes on for a long moment, and eventually Jyrion lets me go, and Rathyn takes his place.
“Do it,” he tells me.
My throat burns with humiliation, but I take my cock in the cage and lift it. It doesn’t get hard as I tug. It doesn’t so much as twitch as I stroke my balls.
After what feels like forever, he tugs on the leash. “Enough.”
I drop it, and it thuds back between my legs.
“I have satisfied your request,” Rathyn says. He pulls me to my feet, but I don’t glance up. There’s not a chance I couldhandle the look on Jyrion’s face, and I don’t want to know what Eissa is thinking when he sees me like this.
I respected him, but now, how can I ever look him in the eye again?
They switch back into Eretharian once more, and I listen to the ebb and flow of words. For a moment, I feel panicked. Did it not work? Was I not believable?
Was I not good enough?
