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“No more, please.”
Telemachus’ voice is barely audible, utterly wrecked by the abuse his throat had been put through. Antinous chuckles.
“But you haven’t served your whole pack, little wolf. You have to take a few more.”
There are a good ten men still waiting for their chance to fuck the prince, and then Antinous plans to enjoy Telemachus himself for a while. Cum is dripping from Telemachus’ ass, cunt, and chin. If he makes it out of this without getting pregnant, it will be a miracle. His hands are pale where they suspend him just barely above the ground, behind his back to keep him in the best position to be taken while not giving him leverage to fight back. His toes trace the ground, no longer trying to support him.
“Please.”
Antinous feeds his cock into Telemachus’ mouth, silencing him.
“Come on,” he calls, and feels Telemachus whine as the next suitor stuffs their dick into his cunt, eagerly thrusting into the well-used hole.
Antinous stands there, letting Telemachus’ mouth get shoved onto his cock as he’s fucked ruthlessly by the man behind him. The prince is limp, eyes unfocused and glazed over. Antinous is tempted to try and bring him back to the present, but decides to give the prince mercy. He can escape to wherever it is he’s thrown his mind for a while.
It will be a shame when they have to kill him. Antinous would love to keep the prince as a personal whore. Unfortunately such a threat to any of their claims to the throne could not be allowed to live.
They’ll just have to make use of him while they have him.
Antinous cups Telemachus’ face, rubbing away a stray tear with his thumb. The prince looks so good like this: broken, empty-eyed, cum-stained, and peacefully holding Antinous’ dick in his mouth. If only Antinous could keep him like this.
The suitor fucking Telemachus grunts and spills, pulling out once he finished and wandering away to clean his cock off. Another man takes his place, letting out a sigh as he slides home.
Antinous keeps stroking Telemachus’ cheeks, feeling his dick throb pleasantly on Telemachus’ tongue. He would make such a good whore. It really was a shame.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured with a smirk, “You could try and enjoy yourself.”
Antinous begins rolling his hips lightly, matching the place of the other suitor. He’s got the stamina to get himself off and be ready to take another round with Telemachus once the other suitors finish, and the sight before him is too delicious not to indulge in.
He wishes he could get Telemachus to suck on him, but simply having the prince’s mouth on him while he looks so defeated is good enough.
“You really ought to hope that one of our seeds plants,” Antinous said, “because providing an heir might be the only way you make it out of this alive.”
Telemachus’ empty eyes slide shut. Antinous laughs and rocks his hips forward.
“Of course, it will be hard to tell who fathered your bastard after this. We’ll just have to make sure everyone gets a turn, so we all have a reason to defend you.”
Antinous’ cock twitches at the thought, and he thrusts a little harder into Telemachus’ mouth.
“We’ll keep you here for days, letting all the men your mother is stringing along come relieve themselves and have a chance at knocking you up. Then, once you’re good and pregnant, no one will want to risk killing you. You’ll have nine months of safety, and all you’ll have to do is warm a few cocks while you grow.”
The mental image of Telemachus, eight months on and too heavy to escape, makes Antinous groan.
“Of course, it’ll also be good training. You can’t think that your mother choosing one of us will make us give you up. You’re far too good of a cocksleeve, and have a much better chance at providing children. You’re going to spend the rest of your life as a broodmare.”
Antinous is close, and with a smirk, he leans in and thrusts himself fully into Telemachus’ mouth.
“However long that life might be.”
Telemachus has no choice but to swallow Antinous’ seed as he releases it, basking in the sensation.