The little lord.

Garet sat with his arms chained above his head, looking around the dungeon cell he had been in since last night. The only light that he had were the two small torches on either side of the entrance to his cell. His prison was barred so any who walked by got a good look at the prisoner as he sat there in his sorry state. The young blonde haired youth was a lords son of 20 years and heir to his families lands and holdings to boot. He had been accused of a crime he didnt commit, ****. And although his father was a man of high standing Garet knew he could expect no leniency.

His arms were extented high above his head and had been aching for hours, Garet had long expected them to fall off. His legs were similarly chained extended infront of him, they offered a touch more movement than the ones holding his arms but still no real freedom. He was wearing nothing more than a rough and scratchy tunic, a rule of the prison he was detained in and he would be kept this way before and during his trial. The worst part was that being a rather tall young man of over 6ft and also having grown rather chubby in his teens the tunic did little and less to cover his modesty. Leaving his greatest and most private shame visible to any who walked by, the longest tunic the prison had barely came to his hips leaving everything below his waist embarrassingly bare and with his restraints he could do nothing to hide his shame. The Longwood family had long been renowned for their masculinity, great warriors and well endowed men. The crest of his house was even a black horse complete with its large member. Garets greatest shame was his own little manhood, it could barely reach 2 inches at its full size and he had to balls to match, and in his current state it had been the subject of many japes and jokes of the prison guards and passersby.

The only thing in the cell with him were a stone slab bed, as yet unused by Garet and the foul bucket in the middle of the room that was his toilet. No magical waste disposal for **** suspects and even worse he was only permitted to use it within a one hour period everyday, and would be expected to use it supervised by guards and in full view of anyone outside his cell, if he did not need to go during that time then he would foul himself in his chains and be washed down by one or more of the prison mages. So far that had not happened but as he sat there with no way to pass the time he knew it would happen eventually if he did not get out soon.

Garet looks up as footsteps echo around the dungeon, probably more guards he says to himself glumly yet still he tries to shift into a more concealed position to hide from whoever is about to arrive.