A Line of Soft Princes - Ch. 8 - A Most Discreet Society

In the carriage on the way to the party, they confirmed their ground rules for the evening.

“So you’re really up for anything? And you’re alright if I’m up for anything? And nothing is off-limits?” What Bartem was really asking was I’m not going to get in trouble if I fuck someone else, right? but he didn’t want to put it quite so bluntly.

Evie reached across the carriage and pinched his cheek a little. “Aww, is my little peach bun nervous?”

“Not nervous, exactly. Just… surprised? I’d always pegged you for the possessive type.”

She crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat with a knowing smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. Don’t make assumptions, husband.”

He wanted to ask whether these rules would apply outside the party, but decided that was a question for another time. He watches the landscape roll by as the sun dips below the horizon for a bit, thinking. Then: “I never would’ve imagined you, or any royal, going to something like this. It seems very… indiscreet.”

“You’re not wrong. But that’s part of what makes it fun.” She fiddled with her hair a bit. “Besides, being there means I have dirt on a whole host of nobles. They wouldn’t dare say a word about me knowing everything I could say about them.”

Bartem nodded. That wasn’t an unwise bet. A royal was unlikely to lose their position over what the crown would surely label “mere rumor,” but a noble’s title and lands could be revoked over a great enough offense.

They sat in silence until they pulled up to the Driesens’ home, anticipation filling up every inch of empty space between them. Their footman opened the door, helping both of them exit. Evie thanked him and began walking up to the front door. The entrance to the Driesens’ massive house loomed large, lit by torches placed along the path to the door. Bartem took a deep breath and straightened his waistcoat, taking everything in before following.

Before they’d even gone through the door, the sounds of a riotous party met their ears. Evie turned to him with a lascivious smile. It was clear she lived for this. Bartem’s smile was a little more nervous. He was certainly no prude, but he’d never attended an event like this one. He had also never expected to attend one with his wife. It all felt very strange to him, even if he knew he would find plenty to do. He was also more than a little curious what trouble Evie was going to get into that evening since she had dropped no additional clues about it.

When they actually entered, Bartem struggled not to let his jaw drop. The shock he felt was not dissimilar to the moment when he’d first seen what a standard royal dinner looked like, only this time it was flesh on display rather than food. The main entryway opened into a large hall, every inch of which seemed packed with people in varying states of undress. The lighting was a little dim—just enough to give the illusion of privacy. He nearly jumped when he felt someone take his hand, but it was only Evie. “Would you like me to walk around with you while you get a feel for things?” She really was the dearest thing, always so attentive.

“No, I think I should be alright on my own. Just taking it all in.”

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek. “Enjoy!” she beamed. And then she was gone, having disappeared into the crowd.

For a moment, Bartem stood alone, eyes flitting about the room, unable to fully comprehend the debauchery around him. From his current vantage point, he could see, in no particular order: a fat woman lounging nude on a chaise while three different partners fed and fucked her; two men, both shirtless and wearing only close-fitting trousers, with their tongues down each other’s throats and playing with each other’s bellies; a fat man being led around on a leash by his female partner; and, finally, two moderately plump women dancing nose to nose like there was no one else in the world. And that was just a start.

He walked through the hall, past a flogging demonstration, and headed left. There were other, smaller rooms off the main hall, and these were quieter. For the most part, the rooms were populated by couples or threesomes engaged in all manner of activities. Bartem watched how people interacted, trying to understand the etiquette. He realized some of the rooms were open, and that meant anyone was free to enter. Others had the doors shut, muffling loud moans and pleasured screams, closed to the party outside. There were also closed doors with glass windows. Bartem noticed people standing at the windows and watching. He took a peek through one and saw a man tickling his partner with a feather. Not Bartem’s style, but they seemed to be having a lovely time.

A young man walked up to Bartem as he watched. “Is this your first time here?” he asked.

“How did you know?” Bartem’s smile was shy. The young man was quite pretty. They were probably about the same age, though the other man had a good fifty pounds on him. He was quite a lovely pear shape, and Bartem was already envisioning nibbling on his plump hips. Clearly the party’s atmosphere was having an effect on him.

“I’ve never seen you here before. You’d think we’d have fresh blood more often, but these are rather exclusive events.” He sipped from a flute of champagne and extended his hand by way of introduction. “I’m Lucas. Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Bartem did the mental calculus of whether or not he should use his real (and quite uncommon) name. He figured fuck it, might as well. “Bartem,” he replied as he took Lucas’ hand in his and kissed it.

Lucas nearly spat out his champagne. “As in Prince Bartem?” he spluttered.

Bartem laughed. “That’s what they call me these days.”

Lucas’ demeanor changed slightly. He pushed a lock of red hair behind his ear. “I apologize for being so surprised. I didn’t get a good look at you at the wedding. I didn’t realize you were so…”

Bartem braced himself to hear something negative. He knew he was not what most people thought of when they imagined a prince.

“...delectable.” Lucas’ voice was suffused with interest as he looked the prince up and down.

“‘Delectable’?” Bartem echoed. “Do you pull out that line for everyone, or just me?” he flirted.

“I was trying out something new. Did it work? If it did, I’ll need to put it in the rotation.”

Bartem moved closer, until Lucas’ back was against the wall. He put his hand up on the wall, blocking Lucas in from one side. “I’d say it worked a treat. You have my full attention.”

“Lucky me,” Lucas murmured. His eyes had gone half-lidded. He licked his lips: an invitation.

Bartem leaned in, and as soon as their lips touched, Bartem knew he wouldn’t be exploring much more of the party. Lucas tasted like sugar and champagne and the sweetness and heat left Bartem starving. He pressed the other man closer to the wall, reveling in the little gasp his partner let out and the feeling of Lucas’ potbelly pressing into his own stomach. He realized how much he had missed intimacy with other men.

He felt Lucas pull him in close, grabbing at his hips and ass. Bartem shifted slightly, lifting up Lucas’ belly just enough so that they could grind against each other. Lucas moaned into Bartem’s mouth and then pulled back. “Let’s go somewhere a little quieter.” Bartem nodded as Lucas took his hand and led him into one of the private rooms with a glass window on the door. Bartem didn’t even think to balk as he closed it behind them. Who cared if anyone saw them? It wasn’t like he needed to worry about gossip getting back to his wife. She was probably doing much the same thing.

The room was lit with red candles, casting a warm glow over everything. There was a wide chaise in the center, a wide armless chair in the corner facing the door, and a shelf with bottles of oil and some implements Bartem had only ever read about in smutty novels organized neatly on the shelves. There was a table right beside the chair with food on it, too—little bite-sized sweets and savory hors d’oeuvres. He moved toward Lucas and gave him a quick, rough kiss. He grabbed a bottle of oil and sat down in the chair, throwing one arm over the back of it. He looked at Lucas with a commanding expression. “Undress for me.”

“As you wish.” Lucas slipped the long, semi-sheer skirt he was wearing off his hips, the fabric shirring to the floor around him. He wore nothing beneath it. He stepped out of his slippers and pulled off his shirt at the same time. Bartem took a good look. Lucas’ chest was soft but didn’t quite have breasts yet. He had a thatch of red hair that started at his chest and trailed down the front of his belly. Bartem’s eyes followed that trail and noted the way the redhead’s belly drooped down a little; he had the beginnings of a double belly, the upper roll of it just beginning to develop. But best of all in Bartem’s eyes, he had hips that dominated his form. They had been apparent beneath his skirt, but now, fully visible, they looked even more exaggerated. His love handles melted directly into them. Bartem loved how pampered it made him look.

He crooked a finger toward Lucas, who sauntered toward him, swaying the hips he knew were his best asset. Lucas sat down in Bartem’s lap, and Bartem wasted no time touching everything he found lovely. He kissed Lucas’ neck, then moved downward, leaving marks across his lush torso. At the same time, he kneaded his fat hips, his cock hardening thinking about how much bigger he would likely get with time. Lucas practically melted at the attention, luxuriating like a fat cat in the sunshine.

Lucas reached for the falls of Bartem’s trousers, unlacing them hungrily until the prince’s cock was free. It curved upward toward his belly, the head swollen and wet. He ran a hand along its length. “May I service you?” Lucas asked breathlessly between kisses. Bartem’s cock twitched in response, and Lucas dropped down to his knees, one hand on Bartem’s meaty thigh, the other stroking his cock as he went down on him.

Bartem leaned his head back for a moment, trying to control himself as his partner’s tongue coaxed him toward climax. Once he’d collected himself a bit, he put his hand on Lucas’ head, fingers twisting into his’ short red curls as his head bobbed up and down, hand working up and down Bartem’s shaft.

Just before he came, he gently pushed Lucas back. They both caught their breath for a moment. Bartem kicked his pants and breeches the rest of the way off and pulled Lucas into his lap. “I want to see the rest of you,” Lucas said as he unbuttoned Bartem’s waistcoat before sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it to the side before doing the same to his shirt. “I see why she picked you,” he murmured as he traced the slight curve of Bartem’s stomach. “I would’ve picked you, too.”

A moment later, Lucas was riding Bartem’s cock. Their foreheads were pressed together, like they couldn’t get close enough.

***

Evie was not usually much of a voyeur. She knew intimately what it was like to have your every move watched and picked apart. While the Driesens’ parties certainly welcomed voyeurs and exhibitionists, she tended toward more focused, private engagements.

That first party with Bartem was an exception.

When they had parted, she had drifted into the crowd for a moment before following behind him, unable to control her curiosity. She felt she had gotten to know her husband fairly well since he had arrived at her palace three months before, but she knew there was plenty she had not yet uncovered.

She was a little surprised watching him flirt with another man. She hadn’t considered he might also be interested in men given his performances in their own bedroom. When they kissed, she could practically feel the heat rolling off of them. Bartem was utterly in his element and she felt her heart flutter happily. She did so like seeing him enjoying himself.

Luckily, she got to see plenty more of that as she peeked through the window into the room they ended up in. She loved watching how commanding he was and wondered if that was how he preferred things. She tended to take the lead—a side effect of having been groomed to rule a nation since she was born. He’d always seemed happy to take cues from her, but she would have to try to be more flexible in the future.

When they dressed themselves again, she made herself scarce, hiding amongst a group of people looking in on a woman suspended from the ceiling by a series of ropes. Once she knew she could blend into the background again, she followed them a bit longer.

She was bewildered to see that they headed toward the set of banquet tables in the middle of the hall. Bartem was not much of a snacker in her experience (though, heavens, wouldn’t that have been wonderful?). Perhaps his partner was peckish? But no—they both ate, and heartily. Bartem cleared half a plate of chocolate-covered creampuffs without stopping. He was so distracted by the gorgeous man in front of him that he didn’t seem to realize quite how much he was eating. He had proved since they’d married that he could pack quite a bit away when he let his appetite run wild, but it was a tragic rarity. Evie had done what she could to encourage him since she loved few things more than seeing a smaller man with a belly stuffed full of fattening goodies, but it appeared she might’ve been going about it the wrong way.

The young men worked their way through a half-dozen different platters of foods. Bartem’s stomach had begun to round out into a more solid mass. His partner had even begun to take the liberty of hand-feeding him and patting his glutted gut. Evie felt a twinge of jealousy at that but let it pass. Bartem returned the favor, seeming ignorant of his own indulgences when faced with someone indulging more and looking so pretty while doing it.

Wheels began turning in Evie’s mind. She turned away from her husband and floated through the crowd, feeling like she had just cracked a code.

***

At some point in the evening, the sound of a gong rang through the entire estate. Bartem, who was still standing by the buffet and having a grand time trying a little of everything, turned to Lucas. “What’s that for?”

“That must be the evening’s performance. Come—it’s not to be missed!” He took Bartem’s hand and led him away from the food. “We’ll want to get you a good spot since it’s your first time.”

Bartem smiled a little. “If you say so.” They wove their way to the center of the hall. They moved quickly through the crowd, and for the first time that evening Bartem realized he might’ve eaten a bit too much. A large circle had been cleared. A single chair sat in the center of it, watched by what seemed like every person at the party. Lucas pulled Bartem to the front edge of the circle.

The Driesens appeared seemingly out of nowhere, stepping forward into the circle. They greeted everyone and set up the performance. As they spoke, the candles around the room went out one by one, slowly plunging the hall into darkness as they spoke. The performance that evening told the story of an ancient goddess choosing her mate, they said. Music began to play—violins and pretty flutes scattered throughout the crowd, filling the room with sound.

The final candle went out as Lady Driesen finished speaking. There were a few moments of darkness, of silence. Then, a spotlight appeared over the circle. A gorgeous woman with long, silky black hair stood at the center. She wore a crown of spring blossoms and ferns. She wore no clothes, her hair so long it draped over her shoulders like a cloak. She sang in a language Bartem didn’t know. Despite his not understanding the words, he could understand her longing. The violins and flutes swelled as the goddess danced around the circle, stopping every few steps to look through the crowd, searching for someone.

Finally, she found him, the love she had been searching for, and pulled him out of the crowd. The man was as beautiful as the woman, but with quite an exotic body type. He was all sinewy muscle, hardly an ounce of fat on him. He, too, had dark hair, though it was cut short. He was also nude. The goddess pulled him into a dance and they flitted around the circle, leaping and turning and singing out their joy at having found each other. They made one final turn and the man lifted the woman up onto his hips, kissing her. At the same time, the music swelled.

Then, suddenly, they broke apart. The goddess began to sing a mournful song. Meanwhile, the man looked down at his body. He sang back as if he was trying to convince the goddess of something. At one point, he got down on his knees, begging. She danced back to him, her song brightening again.

She pushed him back into the chair at the center of the circle and pulled something out from underneath it: a long tube attached to a funnel, and an enormous jug of liquid. Bartem’s eyebrow quirked upward.

The goddess put the end of the tube into her lover’s mouth, singing her joy once more. Then, she began pouring the liquid into it. The man swallowed greedily, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Almost immediately, his belly swelled up. Still, he drank, and drank, and drank, until the jug was empty. By the time he had finished, his stomach looked like Bartem’s had after his wedding feast. The effect on the performer was even more dramatic because of how slender he was, his belly hanging low and sloshing with liquid. The goddess sang sweetly to him, leaning in for a kiss.

The music stopped for a moment, and the light went out once more. When it came back on, the goddess stood in the same position, leaning forward and cupping her lover’s chin. But now, somehow, the man was significantly larger. It was as if he’d packed on two hundred pounds in an instant. And yet, his features were the same: he had the same hair, the same face, but every part of him was now swathed in pillowy fat with nary a muscle in sight. The goddess kissed her newly-fattened lover, and he pulled her in close. They rubbed their noses together and sang a final few lines about consummating their love, and the lights went out once more.

Then, all at once, the candles were lit again. The rest of the room came back into focus. Everyone was applauding. The goddess bowed, as did her fat lover. Then, from within the crowd, the original lover with his chiseled features, ran into the middle of the circle. All three of them bowed a few more times.

Bartem was utterly starstruck. He turned to Lucas. “That was astonishing! Are all the performances at these parties like that?”

Lucas nodded, a wide grin on his face. “They always manage to outdo themselves.”

***

Bartem didn’t see Evie again until the party was over. They met outside as they waited for their carriage. Bartem didn’t have words to describe everything he’d seen that night. He knew there had been far more to experience and was already looking forward to the next party.

“What did you think of the performance?” Evie asked.

Bartem threw up his hands, trying to find a way to encapsulate how it had made him feel. “Ingenious. It was utterly enchanting.”

Evie looked overjoyed. “I’m so glad you liked it. I got the sense that you would enjoy yourself, but one never knows.” She kicked off her slippers and moved to Bartem’s side of the carriage, snuggling into his side. She watched his full belly jiggle as the carriage swayed and smiled knowingly to herself. She had enjoyed the performance quite a bit, too, though she believed it might’ve been for different reasons than her husband. Bartem put his arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against hers, yawning and thinking about what an excellent night he’d had as the carriage rocked them both to sleep.