Tights humiliation for guys

Will lay on his straw pallet. The straw stuck into his flesh and the coarse blanket felt rough against his naked skin. The cellar was draughty, and the snoring of the other boys in their beds rattled around the room, but to him it was like a paradise. Sixteen years of sharing his sleeping arrangements with his family’s stinking goat had not prepared him for such luxury. His early years in the tiny village where he’d been born, sharing a wooden hut with his parents and his two elder brothers, had been a time of unremitting labour. As the youngest and least significant member of the family, his responsibilities had been the most unpleasant: mucking out the stinking livestock that his family kept to earn a meagre crust. They traded with their neighbours for other food and goods, although the majority of what they made disappeared very quickly. Ninety per cent of their income had to be paid in taxes to Lord Geoffrey de Montford, the distant lord who lived a life of luxury in the grand castle, perched atop the distant hill.

As a boy, day-dreaming in the fields, Will had gazed up at the castle and found himself wondering what life was like for all the people who lived there. And now, unbelievably, here he was. Had it really only been a week ago that his life had been turned upside down so suddenly? He thought back wistfully to that day that had changed everything.

It had been a pretty average sort of a day really. He was supposed to have been wheeling a barrow load of manure the mile and a half to their neighbour Gyles’ farm but it was a warm late summer’s day and he was dozing underneath a nearby tree. He awoke with a start: if his father or either of his belligerent elder brothers caught him, he’d be sure to get a beating from their belt. It was a cruel, harsh life in the village and it was not unusual for the day to end with him lying across his father’s lap, his rough hessian trousers pulled down to his ankles, his naked arse being beaten till it was red as his father worked out his frustrations against the world.

But it was not his father. The new arrivals were a group of horsemen: four of them sat atop fine chestnut stallions. Will gawped in amazement at the finery and opulence arrayed before him. The leader of the group was a tall, lean, broad-shouldered man. He was in his late thirties, Will guessed, with long, sleek, dark hair that flowed from a widow’s peak. He wore a neatly trimmed goatee beard and moustache, and his cruel, pale blue eyes surveyed Will’s family’s home with distaste. Beneath his long, black riding cloak, he wore a finely embroidered doublet: black with gold embroidery, which ended just above his waist. His leather riding boots came up to mid-thigh, and his lean, finely muscled legs were snugly encased in silken black hose. At his crotch, his manhood was proudly displayed, straining against the material of the tights. Will’s eyes could not help but stray to the impressive bulge barely concealed within.

“Come here, boy!” the man called to him, imperiously. Will gulped nervously.

“Are you an imbecile?” he asked, a sneering smile playing around his lips. “I gave you an order!”

At that moment, there was a commotion from inside the hut, and his mother bustled out, falling over herself to apologise to the dignitary who was visiting them.

The richly-dressed man turned to her.

“My name is Alexander Courcey,” he declared. “I am the Chief Steward of Lord Geoffrey and I am here to collect the rents and taxes that you owe him.”

Will’s mother blanched. “My lord, the harvest has been very bad this year. My husband and sons have worked all summer long, but it has not been enough.”

“I am not interested in your feeble excuses,” Alexander snapped. “You know all too well the penalty for non-payment. Your hovel will be razed to the ground, and your family will be evicted from Lord Geoffrey’s land.” Once again, that smile played around his cruel lips.

Will’s mother sank to the ground, gibbering in terror and begging for mercy.

Alexander’s eyes passed back to gaze upon the still dumbstruck Will. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “on this occasion, we could make alternative arrangements…”

His mother looked up, hope filling her tear-stained eyes. “My lord?”

“The boy. Is it yours?”

Will’s mother clambered to her feet. “Our youngest, my lord. His name is Will. He’s a dreamer but he’s not a bad lad.”

“Tell it to come here,” the steward commanded.

His mother stared at her son, and when he remained rooted to the spot, she hissed at him, “You heard, Will. Approach his lordship!”

Will stumbled forward till he was right next to Alexander, the latter sitting proudly on his sweating stallion. The boy’s face came level with the steward’s bulging crotch.

Alexander leant over and grasped Will’s face in his gloved hand. His nose wrinkled. “It stinks, but it has some promise.”

Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he slapped Will firmly across the cheek. Will took a step back, instinctively, and his hand flew to his face. His cheek stang, but there was no blood.

“Woman,” Alexander declared. “Because I am a kindly and compassionate man, I am prepared to spare you.”

Will’s mother again fell to her knees and began a litany of gratitude.

“Silence!” the steward barked. “I will take the boy as payment. He will work for me as a page in the castle. Due to his humble origins, he will be the lowest of the low and will perform only the most menial of duties, but he will have a roof over his head and a meal in his stomach every night. Provided he performs his duties satisfactorily, I will see to it that you are sent a copper piece once a month as compensation for the loss of his labour here.”

And that had been that. There had barely been time for goodbyes. His mother hugged him to her and whispered urgently, “Be good at the castle, Will. Do whatever you are told and do not disgrace your family. You are our only chance. Should this man become displeased with you, you know what the consequences will be…”

And then he was slung roughly over the back of one of the horses that belonged to Alexander’s companions, and they began the journey from his village, the only place he had ever called home, up to a strange new life at the castle.

The climb to the castle passed by in a blur and soon Will and his new masters were clattering into the castle courtyard. Alexander dismounted. He was well over six foot and towered over the boyish Will. His new master looked him up and down with a supercilious expression.

“Report to Master Yorick,” he instructed him. “Tell him you are to fill the role of junior page boy and that you are to be cleaned and dressed for the purpose. Do your duties well, boy, and all will be well. Do not give me cause to have to discipline you…” And with that, Alexander was gone.

The castle was a bewildering mixture of sights and sounds: fragrant smells wafted from the kitchen, clattering bangs issued from the nearby smithy, and the many inhabitants of the castle whirled around him in their brightly coloured uniforms. Will couldn’t help notice that all the servants he could see were male: all dressed in a variation of the same costume: tightly fitted embroidered jerkins on their upper parts that left their arms bare, their legs and lower portions encased in impossibly snug, silken hose that clung to their backsides and crotches in the same lascivious way that they had with Alexander. Blues, yellows, reds and blacks, the servants bustled around like impossibly colourful birds.

Eventually, after much sniggering and nose-holding when he approached, Will managed to locate Master Yorick in the castle’s laundry room. Yorick was a short, stocky man of fifty or so. Like all the other staff, he wore a jerkin which left his hairy, muscular arms exposed. His, however, was a serviceable brown, which contrasted with the mustard colour of his tights. His formidable thigh muscles stood out in stark definition through the figure-hugging material.

“So,” Yorick said. “Alexander has finally found a new junior page. He’s been searching for some time. I wonder what particular skill he has seen in you that makes him think you’re eligible for the job.”

He smirked in a not altogether pleasant way. Will didn’t understand, but, his mother’s advice still ringing in his ears, he said nothing and merely nodded.

“Now, first of all, you stink of goat shit, so a good bath is what’s called for. Take your clothes off, boy.”

Will hesitated. “If you show me the baths, Sir, I can make sure I am clean.”

Yorick sucked in his breath through his teeth and shook his head. “Oh no, lad. You’re new here. Every single moment of your life is to be supervised. We can’t have you just wandering around the castle alone now, can we? Besides, I want to see what’s lurking beneath that shitty peasant clothing. I don’t have all day, lad.” His expression became severe. “Now – strip!”

Although he was embarrassed at the prospect of being naked in front of this total stranger, Will realised he had little choice in the matter. The last thing he wanted was to be sent home in disgrace before his employment had even begun. Like it or not, these were his masters now and they owned him as surely as his family owned their goat. He pulled his hessian shirt over his head, kicked off his battered leather shoes and finally, lowered his scratchy trousers to his ankles. In spite of himself, his cock began to twitch and slowly began to pulse and rise, much to the amusement of the older man. Will blushed a deep red and attempted to cover his hard dick with his hands.

Yorick grinned. “Don’t worry, lad. Yours is not the first servant-boy’s cock I’ve seen get hard at the prospect of being viewed by another man.” He approached and swiped Will’s hands out of the way. Tweaking the boy’s prick with his fingers, he sighed with mock theatricality. “Although to be honest, there’s not all that much to see. It clearly wasn’t for your dick that you were chosen.”

Yorick’s callous assessment of the size of his manhood merely made Will blush all the more furiously.

“Turn around.”

Reluctantly, Will did so. “Ah, now it begins to make sense. You have a peachy backside, boy. Two ripe globes that would make any man go crazy with lust. And you might be only short but your legs are very well-muscled. All that work in your peasants’ fields has served you well.” Yorick chuckled. “Oh, yes, young man, you have to hand it to Alexander. His aptitude for spotting talent is quite remarkable. You are going to fill out a pair of tights very nicely.”

Will kept his eyes to the ground, humiliated to hear his body being described in this way, conscious of Yorick’s eyes on every scrap of his nude flesh.

“Come along then, lad.” And with that, Yorick led Will to a wooden tub, filled to the brim with warm soapy water that Will guessed was usually used for the castle laundry. “In you get.”

The peasant boy climbed in and allowed the warm water to engulf and soothe his naked limbs. Yorick grabbed a coarse scrubbing brush and began scraping away at the accumulated sweat and grime that was caked onto Will’s body: and if occasionally his hands strayed for a grope of his boy-cock, or his finger slid along the lad’s slippery arse crack, what was Will to do about it?

Eventually, the ablutions were completed and Will stepped out of the tub, cleaner than he had ever been in his life. Yorick took a rough towel and began rubbing the novice page boy down. Then he took a hair brush and began brushing the tangles out of Will’s blond hair.

“Needs a trim,” the older man surmised. And with that he took some shears and took away some of the hair at the nape of Will’s neck, leaving the blond mop long on top. “Very boyish,” he grinned. “Alexander will be pleased.”

“Now to get you dressed. I have a spare uniform just here. It might be a little small for you, but the tighter it is, the better it will showcase your ‘assets’.”

Yorick pulled open a drawer from one of the many chests that lined the room, and pulled out a neatly folded package. Will peered eagerly to see what costume he would be wearing to perform his duties.

“First things first,” said Yorick, producing a small leather strap that had two metal studs at either end. “Alexander likes to see a nice healthy bulge in his page boys. And to be honest, with your little tiddler there, you’re going to need all the help you can get. This will keep you permanently hard.”

Expertly, Yorick wrapped the strap around Will’s still rock hard dick and balls, ensuring the engorged packet remained so. Will had never experienced anything like it: his most private parts being held in permanent bondage. It was all he could do not to explode right there with Yorick’s hand on his cock. Somehow he managed to control himself. He had no intention of disgracing himself so soon.

Yorick stepped back to examine his handiwork. He slapped Will’s cockhead and the lad gasped.

Yorick leered at him. “You want to cum, don’t you, lad? Don’t you even think about it. This is a good Catholic household and there are severe punishments for the sin of self-abuse. You even think about touching yourself down there and your feet won’t hit the ground as you’re thrown out of here. That cock of yours is strictly out of bounds from now on. That particular pleasure is to be afforded to more illustrious people than you…”

Will sighed in frustration. His solitary teenage wanks in the bushes at the side of the field were clearly to be a thing of the past.

“Moving on,” said Yorick. “Now we have the part I like best… fitting you for your hose…”

And with that, he produced an impossibly fine, silken pair of bright blue tights. “Put them on.”

Yorick tossed the tights to Will who caught them awkwardly. Will handled them gently. They smelt clean and new, and he was anxious not to tear the delicate garment. He moved to bend down.

“Wait!” ordered Yorick. “Turn around, boy. I want to see your ass as you pull on your tights.”

Obediently, Will did as he was told, and as he bent over, he was only too aware that his fine, young, boyish bum bobbed high in the air, giving Yorick a perfect view of his loveliest feature.

Will gathered up the right leg of the tights and inserted his foot, gently pulling up the material so that his leg became gradually encased in the silky smooth hosiery. First one leg, then the other. After his rough, hessian peasant trousers, the tights felt impossibly luxurious. The combination of the strong, masculine muscularity of his legs contrasted exquisitely with the delicate, almost feminine, sensation of the silk caressing his naked flesh. Pulling them up further, his genitals and his ass were also covered by the glorious feeling of nylon over flesh.

“Pull them up higher, boy!” ordered Yorick. “I want to see the material disappearing right up your crack!”

Will did as he was told. The silk encased the globes of his ass and the seam of the tights was hoiked up, disappearing deep into his crack and splitting his buttocks in two. He glanced down. The cockring was doing its job down there, and his cock and balls bulged obscenely through the blue fabric. His entire lower half was snugly encased in the tights – from his boyish feet all the way up to his waist.

“Mmmm,” said Yorick. “I wasn’t wrong. You were born to be put in tights, boy.” He approached and prodded Will’s ass with his thick finger, pressing the silk of the tights against the puckered hole. “Virgin ass. Very nice.”

Will nodded mutely as he tried to work out his conflicting emotions. He still felt shame at being leered at, but at the same time a strange kind of pride at being appreciated like this. He did look damned good in the tights – and they felt wonderful. How on earth was he to obey the command not to cum in his silky hose?!

Yorick handed over the rest of Will’s uniform: a richly embroidered silk jerkin: deep blue with silver thread that left a good portion of Will’s upper chest bare, as well as his boyishly toned arms; a thick studded leather belt that wrapped around Will’s waist; and some slim black leather pumps for his feet were added to his uniform.

Finally, he took a thick leather collar and wrapped it tightly around Will’s neck. “As the most junior and subservient member of our Lord’s household, you are the only one who must wear this slave collar,” Yorick informed him. “It will be a constant reminder to both you and others of your lowly status.”

“Yes, Sir. I understand,” whispered Will.

“Now, as much as I would like to stay and gaze at that lovely body of yours, I have other duties to get on with. Be off with you.”

The next few days had passed in something of a blur for Will. He had been shown to the dormitory where all the page boys slept. There were about a dozen of them in total: some blond, some dark; some tall, some short; some slim; some muscular; but all of them handsome in varying ways, and all with good shapely legs that filled out their tights to perfection. Most of them were the sons of gentlemen who hoped to find favour with Lord Geoffrey by placing their offspring in his household. All of them looked down on him as if he were some kind of insect. Yorick had clearly wasted no time in telling everyone about Will’s very humble origins.

The surliest of Will’s fellow pages was a lad called Raymond. He was eighteen, so a couple of years Will’s senior, with thick black curly hair, a button nose and full pouting pink lips. He was a few inches taller than Will, and his pageboy uniform consisted of a black and yellow embroidered jerkin, and his tights were parti-coloured in the latest fashion: one leg bright yellow and the other with alternating black and yellow vertical stripes. Raymond had been the previous holder of the post of junior page boy but had recently been promoted to a role with more responsibilities. Will thought that Raymond would have been pleased, but the older lad seemed to resent the fact that he had been replaced, and the focus for his resentment was, inevitably, young Will.

The situation was made even more difficult because Raymond had been charged with the job of training Will in his new position. Raymond grumbled that he had his own duties to see to, without being given the job of training some peasant half-wit; but he knew better than to complain too openly and risk punishment, so he took his frustration out on Will.

Will’s duties mainly seemed to be to be available to carry out whatever anyone senior to him wanted. In other words, he was the castle’s general dogsbody. The one specific role he did have took place every evening, as Lord Geoffrey and his household ate their sumptuous banquet in the Great Hall. Once the multitude of appetisers, fish courses, meat courses and other savouries had been consumed and cleared away, it was Will’s role to bring in an array of sweetmeats and desserts on a vast silver platter. Assiduously prepared by Mistress Olwen the Cook, these were a mouth-watering variety of puddings: milky blancmanges, trifles topped with layers of cream, chocolate mousses, warm yellow custards, strawberry, toffee and chocolate sauces and vast cream cakes. Alongside these delicacies were arranged every fruit you could imagine: large fresh bananas, juicy plums and nectarines, grapes, pears, peaches and kiwi fruits. And a large bowl of chocolate-coated fondants, bars of iced nougat and plump pink marshmallows coated in icing sugar.

“Lord Geoffrey has a very sweet tooth,” Mistress Olwen had chuckled to Will.

The first time Will was required to serve in the Banqueting Hall, his nerves nearly got the better of him. Suddenly, in spite of the finery he now wore and the relative comfort of his surroundings, he yearned for the simplicity of his old life. Still, there was no going back now.

Raymond had arranged all the various puddings and sweets on the platter – “Just how his Lordship likes it!” And the older boy stood with him outside the large oak doors, awaiting the summons. Suddenly, the doors swang open and Alexander the Steward, dressed in rich purple doublet and hose, looked Will up and down. His lips twitched in an appreciative smile but he said nothing, merely nodding towards the top table and indicating where Will was to go.

“Good luck, bitch boy,” hissed Raymond in Will’s ear, in a far from friendly fashion.

Will entered the Hall and began the long walk to Lord Geoffrey’s table, acutely aware with each step of being assessed by the various dinner guests: his blue jerkin rose up around his waist, and the blue spheres of his buttocks brushed against one another as he walked.

His first glimpse of his Lordship was brief. He knew he was not supposed to look at Lord Geoffrey directly, so his first impressions were a confusing welter of images: rich velvety robes, a distinguished, handsome man in his forties, with streaks of silver in his hair, and a neat pointed beard as worn by only the most fashionable of gentlemen. As Will gazed submissively at the floor, he saw his Lordship’s broad muscular thighs in crimson hose, his package framed enticingly.

Suddenly he heard Alexander’s voice at his side. “Serve his Lordship his dessert, boy!” came the harsh whisper.

Will pulled his eyes away from Lord Geoffrey’s crotch and leaned far over the table to deposit the groaning platter of goodies. As he did so, he felt Geoffrey’s warm palm caress the taut muscles of his backside, lingering over the tightly stretched material of his hose and finally issuing a smart slap to his buttocks which made Will’s cock throb encased in its leather strap.

Unsure of what he should do next, Will remained in that position, bent over the table, his ass exposed and vulnerable to whatever his Lordship should decide to administer.

“Nice boy, Alexander. Congratulations on your appointment. This one’s bum is even cuter than the last.”

“My only desire is to please your Lordship,” came Alexander’s oily response. The steward cleared his throat. “Okay, boy, you can put your tighted arse away now. We’ve seen enough of it for now.”

Will stumbled back and, his cheeks blushing as scarlet as Lord Geoffrey’s hose, he backed out of the Hall. As he left, he couldn’t help but notice Raymond glowering at him jealously – an unspoken threat in his dark, almond eyes.

And so his training had continued. He was spoken to only when someone wanted anything of him, and the other page boys in his dormitory whispered conspiratorially together, stopping abruptly whenever he entered the chamber. And all through it, Raymond continued to stare at him with contempt in his eyes.

So it was with no little relief that after five days at the castle, he heard a quiet voice at his side.

“Hello. It’s Will, isn’t it?”

It was a girl: only his own age or perhaps a year older, with soft light brown hair that fell to her shoulders, and a pretty face with a tiny button nose. She was dressed plainly in a brown smock – not for the women servants the exquisite finery of jerkin and tights.

“My name’s Jane. I work in the kitchen. I’ve spotted you fetching the dessert platter for Lord Geoffrey’s dinner.”

Will was so surprised to be spoken to as if he were a human being rather than the most menial of slaves, he was speechless for a moment.

Jane bit her lower lip. “I don’t have long but I know somewhere private we can go to … talk…”

Minutes later, they were together in the castle’s stables: the comforting smell of straw reminding Will of his family back at home.

“You’re very handsome, Will,” murmured the girl in his ear. “You must have seen all the servants watching you. They all want to get their hands on you and feel your most private parts through your delicious tights…”

Will was about to express his gratitude, but he was prevented from speaking as Jane planted a long and lingering kiss on his lips. As she did so, her hand strayed down to his bulge, the mound rapidly expanding and creating a tent pole in his tights. As she made contact, his cock jerked desperately.

“I have to go,” she said, rather regretfully. “Mistress Olwen will punish me if she notices I’m gone. But I hope we can meet again, Will.”

She vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

Will sank back into the straw. That was it, he decided. He was in love.

His training continued for the next few days fairly uneventfully. He became gradually used to his costume which displayed his cock, balls and ass so obscenely for the obvious entertainment of anyone watching, and although Raymond was clearly never going to become his biggest fan, the dark-haired lad did at least admit that he was achieving some level of competence at his serving duties.

However, all of that paled into insignificance alongside the emergence of the lovely Jane into his existence. She was quite the most delightful creature he’d ever set eyes on. As yet their meetings had been snatched, illicit moments, as she always seemed to have to cut their fondlings short to go running back to her duties, lest she were missed in the kitchen. But she promised him that soon, very soon, they would know each other in the most intimate and delightful way… The virgin Will didn’t know exactly what she meant, but he was exceedingly eager to learn…

So it was with these delicious dreams in his mind that he now lay, drifting in and out of sleep in a most enjoyable fashion. His hands were undressing Jane’s bodice, stroking her small, pert breasts and burying his face between them, smothering himself, smothering, smothering …

And suddenly he was awake, gasping for breath, genuinely struggling for air. It took him a moment to work out what was happening, and then he realised that a slender yellow foot, ripe and sweaty from a hard day’s work, was smothering his face. The foot (encased in his customary silken yellow hose) belonged to Raymond, and the older lad was taking pleasure in grinding it into Will’s face. Will struggled to sit up and Raymond put his foot back on the floor, looming over Will’s pallet.

“So you’re finally awake, goat-shit,” he spat. “Fuck knows what you were dreaming about – you were moaning and groaning like a bitch on heat.”

Will bit his tongue. It would do not good to enrage Raymond further.

“Get up and get dressed. Alexander wants to see you in his private chambers right away. And he’s not a happy man.”

Will’s heart sank. “What… what do you mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, tights boy. Now I’d get up there pronto if I were you. Alexander doesn’t like to be kept waiting…”

Will stumbled out of bed and quickly got into his page boy uniform: strapping the cock ring around his privates and pulling up his blue hose as tight as it would go.

It was late. The majority of the castle was asleep, which was a good thing as far as Will was concerned. He had only a hazy idea of where Alexander’s chambers were and he was aided by the glowing candle light that emanated through the drapes of one of the windows at the top of one of the castle’s many towers. Still, it took him a little while to find the room within the labyrinthine maze of the castle’s nooks and crannies.

Finally, a little breathless, with the sickening feeling of fear still in the pit of his stomach, Will stood outside the Chief Steward’s room. He knocked firmly on the door.

A moment passed and then Alexander’s baritone voice called out from within: “Enter!”

Alexander Courcey, chief steward of Lord Geoffrey’s household, sat sprawling in a large oak chair, amongst an array of plush cushions. He wore a thick heavy gown: dark purple and embroidered with gorgeous gold thread. He had not belted it up so it flapped open, exposing his broad, bare, muscular chest, covered with a fine down of hair, as black as the luxuriant locks that flowed from his head. His strong, lean legs were encased in rich burgundy hose that felt damned good against his well-defined flesh. Meanwhile, his pride and joy – his long thick cock - lay coiled like a cobra within its pouch, confined for now within the silky material.

He caressed his nipple idly and took a long swig from the goblet of red wine beside him. He spread his legs, gave his crotch one good squeeze and called out: “Enter!”

The heavy oak door opened tentatively and Alexander watched with scornful amusement as the newcomer entered his room.

His cock twitched involuntarily at the sight. Damn, but the boy was hot!

Alexander had barely believed his good fortune a week ago when he’d stumbled by chance upon this jewel amongst the pig shit and swill of the measly village at the foot of the hill. And to see him now, scrubbed up and pristine, golden hair washed clean and flopping in a fringe over his eyes in a most alluring manner; big, brown puppy dog eyes; and full, pouting lips just dying to have a hard prick forced between them. And as for the body…

The boy was short – but what he did have was perfectly proportioned. A smooth, boyish chest, just beginning to burgeon with more manly muscles from his work in the fields; well defined arms that would bulge nicely when tied behind his back; and, Jesus Christ, those legs! Perfectly formed, muscular thighs and calves, planted a little distance apart and completely encased in silken blue tights. The cock not large but at least there was a perceptible bulge there – and to be honest, Alexander’s interest in that particular part of the boy’s anatomy was limited to say the least.

The boy gazed at Alexander in mute supplication, unsure of whether or not to speak. “Sir?” he asked, eventually. “Raymond told me you wanted to see me.”

Alexander ignored him. “Turn around, boy,” he told him. “Nice and slowly now.”

Will did so, and as he did, Alexander let out a little sigh. The boy’s ass was truly the piece de resistance. Two beautifully defined bubbles of fresh, taut boy-flesh, impossibly pert and straining against the confines of the boy’s shimmering tights. Alexander’s hands itched to get the brat over his knee and wallop that backside till the bitch cried out for mercy. But no… plenty of time for that later. There was no hurry. He had all night - and every night after this if he so desired.

“Very well. Face me now.”

The boy turned; fear and confusion written all over his face.

“Stand to attention, boy. Heels together. Have you learned nothing in your week at the castle?”

Will immediately did as he was told.

“Hands on your head, boy!” Alexander barked.

Again Will obeyed, the movement exposing his smooth armpits and forcing his skimpy jerkin to rise even higher. His bulge was completely exposed as well now, and Alexander licked his lips to see the top of the boy’s hose pulled tight against the smooth abs of his stomach and was that?… why, yes it was… there was definitely a perceptible thickening of the boy’s cock.

“Fucking perfect,” thought Alexander. “The little bitch is enjoying it, in spite of himself.”

He fixed Will with a steely glare. “Now, lad, how do you think your first week here at the castle has gone?”

Will’s throat was suddenly dry. He swallowed hard. “All right, I hope, Sir. I’ve been trying my hardest to learn and to do my job well.”

“Really?” asked Alexander, sardonically. “I think you’ll find, boy, that there’s rather more to this job than merely wiggling your arse at all and sundry in the hope that you’ll get by.”

“Sir, I’ve never” – Will began, but then thought better of it.

“Don’t answer me back, you cheeky little bitch,” snapped Alexander. “If I tell you black is white, you nod meekly and say, yes Sir. Do you understand?”

Will nodded helplessly.

Alexander took a moment to adjust his position on his chair, scratching his bulge idly as he did so. He waited just a little longer, enjoying the expression of bewilderment on the pretty page boy’s face, the lad’s hands still placed subserviently on top of his head, the cock still rock hard and standing to attention through his tights.

“Well, boy. I’ll admit that so far I have found your performance … adequate. You’ve blundered a few times at Lord Geoffrey’s table. On occasion you’ve been sloppy and slow, spilling sauces and not quick enough to respond to the demands for fruit to be served. However, I don’t think there’s anything that can’t be solved with some more intensive training.”

Will sighed with relief. The summons to Alexander’s chambers seemed to be nothing more than a progress report, in spite of Raymond’s warning of the Steward’s wrath.

“What concerns me more is a rather scandalous rumour that has come to my attention,” Alexander continued.

Will felt his stomach muscles tightened.

The older man’s top lip curled in a sneer. “Tell me about your dirty little fumblings with the kitchen-maid.”

The effect on the boy was instantaneous. His bottom lip quivered, his eyes began to well up with fear, and his cock drooped into immediate flaccidity.

“So it’s true then.”

“No, Sir, I swear” –

“Don’t lie to me, you filthy little slut. You’ve barely been here a week and you couldn’t keep that pathetic stub of a cock away from the first whore that flaunted herself at you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t send you straight back to that stinking pit of a hovel that I dragged you out of! Only of course you wouldn’t even have that to return to. You’d be flung out, homeless and exiled from Lord Geoffrey’s lands – along with the rest of your miserable family!”

The boy was actually shivering with terror as he absorbed the full onslaught of Alexander’s verbal battering.

“Please, Sir,” he gibbered. “I didn’t know what I was doing. Please don’t send me back. I’ll be good from now on, I promise! I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong!”

“Think?” echoed Alexander, mockingly. “You’re not here to think. You’re a servant boy. The lowest of the low. A mere chattel belonging to Lord Geoffrey and to be used by anyone in the household who wants to do so. You’re here to get dressed in your slutty little uniform and be the most subservient little shit you can possibly imagine. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Will whispered. “Perfectly clear.”

“Good. Now, come over here and stand in front of me.”

Will took a few hesitant steps to where his superior lay sprawled.

“Did I tell you to remove your hands from your head? Ignorant little slut.”

The hands immediately flew back to their prior position, as Will stood there, trembling slightly.

“Now get on your knees in front of me, bitch boy.”

Will’s heart fluttered as he wondered with fear what punishment Alexander would mete out to him for his transgression.

“Since you seem to be having some trouble keeping that little cock of yours in your tights, let’s see if we can subdue some of these more urgent sexual cravings.”

Suddenly, Alexander grabbed the big metal ring attached to Will’s leather collar and yanked the boy’s head towards his crotch.

“Let’s see you sucking a real man’s cock!”

Will tried to protest, but his words were muffled as his face sank into the huge bulge of Alexander’s groin. He found himself assailed with a variety of sensations. Firstly, there was the scent of the steward’s fragranced dick – a mixture of heady man-sweat and whatever perfumes and colognes his master used to douse his athletic body. Then there was the exquisite sensation of the silky tights – that feeling he now knew so well, wrapping the other man’s most private parts in the most intimate and indecent way. And just through that thin layer of stretchy material, Will could feel the undulating motions of Alexander’s considerable cock. It continued to lengthen and harden as Alexander held Will’s face against it, swelling and tumescing to a size that must surely eclipse Will’s own by at least twice as much.

“Lick my cock through my tights, page-boy-bitch!”

Will had no choice. He opened his mouth, and with no experience of what was expected of him, he lapped and licked at the silky material and at the man-meat beneath until the tights were moist with his saliva.

Alexander grunted as he felt those perfectly pouting lips and lapping tongue go to work. The boy’s inexperience was clear, but no matter, he would learn. Fuck, would he learn!

“Don’t forget my balls, tights whore,” he instructed through gritted teeth, and he gave Will’s head a slap, as he pushed it deeper into his crotch, and spread his muscled legs even wider to allow the lad better access to his pendulous ball-sack.

Will had no choice but to obey, and he got to work on Alexander’s considerable bollocks, licking and nibbling and sucking at them through the sodden material of his tights. And now a new scent: Alexander’s juicy ass, perfect and luscious through the rich burgundy material. Will experienced a bizarre and confusing mixture of emotions. He was helpless, subservient and degraded, being used as a boy toy by the older man, but there was also a strange kind of excitement: an honour to be allowed to work on the exquisite physique of his master, Lord Geoffrey’s most trusted servant.

Without warning, Alexander’s hand struck Will across the face, a golden ring cutting into the boy’s cheek and causing him to gasp in pain. He fell back onto his heels.

“Enough! You needn’t think that a mere blow-job will be sufficient to atone for your crimes, do you, slut-boy?”

Alexander shook his head slowly and cruelly. “Oh no, your punishment will be far more complex than that.”

Will knelt on the floor, his cheek smarting from where he had been struck.

“On your feet, bitch. Turn to face the wall, and don’t let me see those hands stray from your head, understand?”

“Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“And I think you’d better have the common manners to thank me for this additional training I’m giving you – all out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Silence fell in the room. Will became aware of his own breath – heaving and deep as he tried to control the fear he felt and the terrible anticipation of wondering what torments and torture Alexander had in store for him.

“You seem nervous, page-bitch. Your hot little ass is quivering with terror in those tights of yours. I think I know a way to relax you. After all, how are you going to learn your lesson if you’re too tense to take it all in?”

Alexander allowed himself a wry grin at his private joke. The irony of this last statement might be lost on the boy right now – but it would not remain so for long.

“There is a wise-woman who lives in the village next to yours, boy. She dabbles in potions – mainly love syrups for the gullible and trusting. But she does possess a certain recipe which I have always found most efficacious. For many years, she has supplied me with little glass bottles of the liquid. Inauspicious in appearance, nevertheless, when inhaled… Well, you shall soon see, tights slut.”

“Please, Sir,” Will stammered. “I don’t want to take any potion. My mother always told me not to trust” –

“Silence, slut. You have no choice in the matter. I want you to take the potion and so that is what you will do. It will make you more malleable. And you never know – you may even enjoy it.”

Will heard the tinkle of a glass stopper being removed from a bottle and before he had chance to react, he felt the heat of Alexander’s body directly behind his. The steward had taken off his heavy brocade dressing gown, so he pressed his manly torso, covered with a light film of sweat in the warm evening, against the page-boy’s back. He ground his hosed crotch against the lad’s luscious ass globes and then reached around the boy’s body.

Clamping one hand over the lad’s mouth, Alexander used the other to force the little glass vial directly under Will’s nose.

Will started, instinctively, to struggle, but the older man was stronger and had the boy gripped tight. Soon all resistance was useless anyhow, as the vapours from the bottle entered the boy’s body. The odour was not unpleasant, but as it hit the back of his nasal passage and the potion began to be absorbed into his bloodstream, Will began to feel strangely weak. His knees buckled and he would have collapsed to the floor, had Alexander not been cradling him in his strong, naked arms.

Alexander’s voice whispered in his ear. “That’s it, bitch. Breathe deep. Take it all in. Inhale the potion all the way. It’ll make you feel really good.”

Will had no choice but to comply. He took great, deep breaths through his nose, inhaling the vapours deep into his lungs. The effect was strange but not unpleasant. Blood rushed to his head, and his heart rate began to slow. He felt his heart pounding and this combined with a weird kind of sensuality. His body tingled and he was acutely aware of all the most intimate and sexual parts of his body. He felt less like a human being and more animal. Maybe Alexander was right. Maybe he was just a dirty little bitch – a dog, with no finer feelings, just the desire to hump something or someone. Instinctively, he began slowly to rub his ass against the mound of Alexander’s cock.

“Mmmmm, yeah, boy,” the older man murmured. “That’s right. I told you it would feel good, didn’t I? Bet your ass feels really hot in those tights right now, doesn’t it? You’re feeling all horny and turned on, aren’t you? The potion is really doing its work now. And this is only the beginning…”

Will tried to speak but his brain seemed to be operating at half-speed and all he could do was utter an animalistic groan. Suddenly the bottle of potion disappeared into the waistband of Alexander’s tights and Will found himself spun round to face his master. Alexander lowered his head to reach the shorter boy and without warning, his tongue was between the boy’s pretty lips, swirling round that pussy mouth, probing, licking, slobbering all over the boy’s orifice. Will, still intoxicated by the potion, found himself responding.

He tried to imagine it was Jane, that this did not represent some kind of ultimate perversion, doing to a man what only men and women were supposed to do. But each time he tried to bring the image of the sweet little kitchen-maid to mind, it was displaced by the raw sexuality of the athletic form grasping him in his arms. The short soft bristles of Alexander’s beard rubbed against his smooth cheek and the insistent thrusting of the tights-clad cock against his own effectively dispelled any hope of fantasising that this was his sweetheart that he was kissing.

Then, as suddenly as he had approached, Alexander withdrew his tongue, and gave Will a sharp shove away from him that sent the lad sprawling to the floor. Will landed with a bump on his tights-clad butt and gazed up at his master, still dazed from the witch’s potion.

“I think someone needs to tell young Jane that her lover boy’s predilections lie elsewhere, don’t you?” sneered Alexander. “I’ve never seen a pussy boy more desperate for it than you. And oh, you’re going to get it, tights-slut. Oh, boy, are you going to get it…”

Alexander strode over to his chair and took another slug of red wine. He was starting to feel nicely intoxicated. He might even partake of some of the potion himself in a moment. It was clearly a strong batch, he mused, as he turned to look at the dazed lad sprawled on the floor in front of him. Either that or he was just a fucking light-weight bitch boy. He chuckled grimly. Yes, that was probably more like it.

He kicked off his leather boots and made his way back over to the servant lad. He lifted one burgundy-stockinged foot and pressed it against the boy’s bulge – firm and erect once more as a result of the inhalation of the potion. He rubbed it back and forth as the little slut lay there, moaning in an agony of ecstasy.

“How are you feeling, bitch?”

A little drool escaped from the side of Will’s mouth. “I feel woozy, Sir. And weak.”

Alexander nodded sanguinely. “Well, yes, that’s the effect of the potion. How else you feeling? You feeling turned on? Horny?”

The boy’s face crumpled helplessly. Even in his plainly erect state, he couldn’t bring himself to admit how aroused he was feeling. Pathetic virgin bitch, thought Alexander.

“Take your jerkin off,” he ordered the boy. “That’s an expensive garment and not one for rolling around on the floor in.”

Will clambered onto all fours and then to his feet. He was reluctant to obey, knowing that the removal of his jerkin would leave him totally exposed.

“Do it, bitch. I’m getting mightily tired of having to repeat everything I tell you. Perhaps I should send you back to your bed and summon that pretty little kitchen-maid up here to take your place. I’m sure she’d be only too happy to sacrifice her tender body to save your pussy boy ass.”

That did the trick. “No, Sir, please don’t do anything to Jane! I’ll do as I’m told, I promise!” And the lad struggled out of his tight jerkin, completely exposing his torso, rivulets of sweat dripping from his body and beginning to moisten the waistband of his tights.

“You’d do well to remember that, boy, as we continue our training together. The moment you displease me you’ll be sent back to your bed and I’ll have the girl up here and I’ll do everything to her that I’ve done to you – and worse. Far worse. You see, I don’t really care for girls, so any punishment I might mete out to her would be far more … clinical. You understand me, slut?”

Will nodded desperately. “Yes, Sir. I understand, Sir.”

“Good. Maybe there is some hope for you after all. But you’ve got a hell of a long way to prove it to me.” Alexander narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the boy. “Take your pumps off too, bitch. I want you standing in front of me naked apart from those oh-so silky tights clinging to your boyish body and that leather collar round your neck to remind you you’re just a fucking slave. My fucking slave.”

Will did as he was told. He stood before his master in his stockinged-feet: the blue material of the hose clinging to every curve of his legs and ass, and his cock jutting out like a tent pole from the silken fabric.

Alexander approached again and grabbed the waist-band of the boy’s tights. “I want these,” he snarled, “pulled up TIGHT!”

With both hands and with some force, he yanked up the page-boy’s tights, forcing the silken material to disappear right up the boy’s arse-crack. Will gulped in pain as his arsehole felt the material cut into it, but he remained silent. The last thing he wanted was for Jane to have to suffer this humiliation at the hands of their master.

Alexander inspected the boy’s ass and seemed satisfied that the tights were now being worn right up his crack.

“Those are some pretty little titties you have, bitch-boy. Bet you’d like to have your girlfriend playing with those, wouldn’t you, eh?”

He reached out as if to prove his point and grabbed each of Will’s nipples. “Tender are they?” he asked, mockingly, as he slowly began to twist the delicate boy-flesh.

“Ah-ah-ah,” gasped the boy.

“Hurts, does it? But your cock is telling me a different story. That boy bulge is very excited. Maybe you should take some more of the potion to take your mind off the pain…”

In a flash, Alexander had produced the little phial and once again, it was forced under Will’s nose. The familiar wooziness assailed the page boy and suddenly the pain in his sore nipples seemed to lessen and become a more pleasurable kind of agony. He moaned slightly. “Mmmmm…”

“You know, bitch,” said Alexander. “I’m getting kind of tired of hearing your voice. I didn’t bring you up here for your conversation. I think we need to muzzle you.”

Will barely registered what was said to him, still over-powered by the potion and its arousing effects. His veins throbbed as he felt Alexander forcing a kind of thick leather ball between his teeth. He made to moan, to protest, but the gag effectively muzzled him. Quickly and efficiently, Alexander fastened the leather strap behind the boy’s head.

Humiliated, Will felt more like an animal than ever: a horse now with the bit between its teeth. Furthermore, he couldn’t swallow properly, so before long the accumulated saliva began to escape from the side of his mouth and ropes of drool started to drip onto his chest.

Alexander laughed mockingly. “Look at the pathetic queerboy in his tights! Can’t even swallow. Drooling all over his chest. Dirty little bitch.”

But all Will could do was stand and stare, helpless as the spittle flowed from his lips.

“Rub it into your chest, slutboy,” ordered his master. “I want to see you fondling your tits and playing with yourself…”

Another hit of the delicious potion and soon Will found himself doing as he was ordered, his body undulating to the rhythm of his pounding heart. What was in that devilish brew?! It seemed to be changing Will’s personality – opening doors into his inner soul that he would never have believed possible. Almost instinctively he knew how Alexander wanted him to appear: womanly, whorish, slutty. He tweaked his nipples, and rubbed the saliva so it mingled with the sweat accumulating on his chest. He bent his knees and stuck his bottom out in the most lascivious way he could imagine, undulating it obscenely as his own hands fondled and groped at his bubble butt through the slippery fabric of his tights.

“That’s it, bitch boy,” came his master’s voice. “Dance for me. Dance for your daddy. Stick out that tight slut’s ass and wiggle it for your Tightsmaster.”

Alexander had partaken of the potion as well now, and he groped his massive cock through his dark red hose, massaging it as he watched his slave-bitch performing for him, as he felt the potion take over, relaxing, freeing, intoxicating…

Will was becoming ever more aroused, and finally, the moment the cruel Alexander had secretly waited for arrived. The unsuspecting page boy’s hand reached down to his crotch and began to rub at his stiff cock.

Everything happened in a whirl for the peasant lad.

“Did I tell you you could touch your prick, you stinking little tart?” demanded the older man. “What did Yorick tell you the day you arrived here in the castle about playing with your boy-cock?! Oh you’re really for it, now bitch boy.”

Will found himself lifted into the air, and slung over Alexander’s shoulder as if he were a mere sack of grain. The struggling brat’s sweaty torso dangled precariously over his master’s left shoulder and Alexander kept him in place with his muscular left arm. Meanwhile, he slowly pushed two thick fingers of his right hand into the crevice of the lad’s sweating arse, feeling the delicious moistness of the lad’s blue tights as they clung indecently to the boy’s bum. The slightly damp tights felt so good against Alexander’s bare flesh, and he felt Will’s erection pressing into his shoulder blade. He was only light and, besides, he didn’t intend to carry the bitch very far.

Pulling aside a heavy drape that separated the chamber in two, Alexander deposited the boy onto the mattress of his ornate four-poster bed. Will fell from his master’s shoulder and bounced onto it. This was it, he thought. Whatever men do to each other, that’s what is going to happen to me now. A fresh wave of apprehension came over the unfortunate young page boy.

“Lie still, bitch,” Alexander instructed him.

By now, Will knew better than to disobey.

He was forced to take another slug of the disorienting potion, and as he lay there, his head spinning, he felt silken cords being tied around his wrists and ankles, and then with a tug, each of his limbs was gradually pulled and then secured to the posts of the bed.

Alexander looked down in satisfaction at his handiwork: this beautiful bitch boy, dressed only in his silky, figure-hugging blue tights, his leather slave collar secured around his neck, writhing in the grip of the sexual potion, his muscles straining against the inescapable bondage: spread-eagled and totally at his mercy.

Alexander climbed onto the bed, and his wandering hands were all over the slave boy. He stroked the muscular legs, enjoying the wonderful sensation of feeling the boy’s tense limbs, stretched in their obscenely revealing tights, beneath his strong palms. He crouched over the boy and licked and nibbled at his armpits and vulnerable nipples as the defenceless slut-toy moaned impotently into his gag. Kneeling between the boy’s spread legs, he kneaded and caressed Will’s impressive thigh muscles through the kinkily sensual material. With a single fingernail, he traced his way up the boy’s body, starting at the oh-so ticklish feet, encased in their bright blue stockings, circling around the straining boy cock, briefly pausing to titillate the pink protruding nipples and eventually resting to stroke the boy’s now wet golden locks.

He reached for a nearby napkin, lying conveniently beside the bed. Then he tipped a goodly amount of the potion onto the material, letting it soak into the fabric. Grabbing yet another cord, he used this to tie the rag around Will’s face.

“No choice, now, bitch boy,” he purred. “No fresh air anymore. You can only breathe in the potion. Can you imagine the frenzy of lust that this will drive you to?”

Will moaned weakly as the vapour coursed through his body.

Alexander laughed harshly. “Oh you’re completely under my control now, tights slut. Just look at you. So vulnerable. So humiliated!”

And with that, he pulled a long cord that dangled from beside him, and the tapestry that appeared to be pinned to the bedchamber’s ceiling, fell to the floor, revealing a vast mirror, reflecting the debauched scene in the Steward’s room.

Will looked up, only to see himself exactly as Alexander had described him. The pounding of his heart rose to a crescendo. He saw his young, lithe limbs stretched to very near their limit – just enough give in the ropes to allow him to struggle impotently – all for the greater sexual satisfaction of his tormentor. And then – a merciful release, as the boy felt his ankles being released. Was that it? Was Alexander’s cruel torment over? His eyes widened, and the Steward almost seemed to read his mind.

“Oh, no, bitch. This is only the beginning.”

Keeping Will secured at his wrists, Alexander carelessly tipped the lad’s legs so that they went over his own head and his hosed feet dangled either side of his ears. Will felt immediately vulnerable in this degrading position – his pert ass invitingly hanging on display for his superior’s entertainment.

Alexander reached in for a quick squeeze of the boy’s balls, and then produced a large leather paddle.

“You need a spanking, boy, to teach you some manners,” he leered. “And I’ll take a ‘thank you, Sir’ after each stroke…”

Will felt the warm leather being rubbed tantalisingly over his silk-clad buttocks as a warning for what was to come. He’d been beaten before of course – mainly by his father and occasionally by his older brothers – but these had been brief, brutal occurrences; this spanking promised to be far more erotically charged. His cock pulsed inside his tights in anticipation of having the other man spanking his boy arse.

The first blow landed on his left cheek – painfully accurate, and Will jolted from the surprise.

“Unk oo, er,” he attempted to say through the gag and the potion soaked rag.

Another blow – this time on his right buttock.

The third was a bull’s-eye on his swollen balls, which made him scream into his gag before he uttered the obligatory thank you.

And so it went on.

Alexander was something of an expert – and no blow directly repeated a previous strike: they landed on his reddening bottom, his upper thighs, his cock and balls, and most humiliatingly, on occasion, directly on his arsehole itself.

“Oh, we’ll get you nicely warmed up!” came the promise.

The pain Will could deal with – he knew he would be sore in the morning. It was the dreadful realisation that even as he was used as the plaything – the boy-toy of the wicked Alexander - his cock just got harder and harder as it begged for release.

“And forty!” cried the Steward jubilantly.

With that, he tossed aside the leather paddle and threw his body on top of the lad. He reached around and untied the gag and removed both that and the potion-soaked material. And the joyous reward for Will – again to feel that strong, masculine tongue darting in and out of his mouth, the bristles of Alexander’s beard against his smooth cheeks. Will could not help but respond.

“You’re really hungry for it, aren’t you, bitch?” taunted the older man, deliberately withdrawing his mouth so that Will was left struggling, his red tongue lapping at the empty air. The potion seemed to remove his free will, and all he needed and desired right now was to have his master’s tongue probing deeper and deeper into his gaping mouth.

“Well, I think we need to fill another of your holes, boy…”

Draping the page boy’s sweat-soaked, tights-clad calves over his shoulders, Alexander began slowly to lower the waist of the garment. Tantalisingly, he began to expose more and more of the young flesh encased within the tights. Rolling down the waistband, the faintest scattering of pubic hair appeared, but the Steward ensured that Will’s rock hard dick remained encased within the sensuous constriction of his hosiery. Instead, he eased down the back of the boy’s sodden blue tights, to reveal the peachy bum, red and sore from the beating it had received: the silky material having provided no cover from the brutality.

“No, please, no,” Will began to moan, his head still swimming from the after effect of the potion.

“Shut up, fuck toy!”

And to sedate his less than willing victim, Alexander re-tied the potion-soaked rag.

Will again felt the erotic inducements of the vapours, so the sensation of his tights being slowly rolled down just below his arse-cheeks, followed by that of thick, masculine fingers, dripping in some gloopy oil fondling his butt, couldn’t help but arouse him.

And a low whisper in his ear: “I’m going to enjoy this, tights slut.”

Will tried to move from side to side, but with his spread arms still tied fast to the bed-posts, and his legs firmly positioned over his master’s shoulders, his writhing was ineffectual. Little did he know, his wriggling was serving only to turn Alexander on all the more.

The older man savoured the moment: his oily finger teasing the naked, puckered hole of the virgin brat: stroking and caressing, until finally he pushed his finger into the yielding crack.

“Ahhh!” Will cried out: the shock of penetration combining with the humiliation of being tied and utterly unable to prevent his body being invaded in this most intimate way.

But Alexander showed no mercy. He pushed further in, first one finger, then two, diddling the virgin boy-pussy, and encouraging it to swell and open for him.

And then, just as suddenly, his fingers withdrew.

Will gasped in relief as the cool air blew against the gunk that nestled in his asscrack. But the respite was momentary. A few seconds to adjust his position and to smear more of the oil onto his own cock, and Alexander had returned, and this time the blunt pressure at Will’s arse came from a far larger source.

The page boy gritted his teeth as his master’s prick began its entry into his body. He could do nothing. There was no escape, no release. Just the obscene feeling of being entered, being raped by the older man. His cock had begun to flag but now the combination of sensations: the evil potion, his wet tights clinging to his groin, and now the swelling of his hole as his master began his onslaught – and his dick once again began to harden.

This occurrence did not go unnoticed.

“You’re enjoying it, bitch. Like I knew you would.”

Will was not the first virgin Alexander had fucked, but, jesus, he was one of the sweetest. That yielding hole. So tight, it practically clamped its way down on his throbbing cock as the lad’s body was raped.

“Fuck, yes. You dirty little slut. You’re loving it, aren’t you? Loving taking my meat right up your filthy little hole. Look at you! Tied up in your tights! Your pathetic little cock is straining against your hose at the thought of a real man’s dick inside your body! I can see the pre-cum gathering through the fabric. Feels good doesn’t it? My cock rammed deep up your ass – your legs and cock encased in those silky, sensuous tights. Oh you’re gonna be fucked long and hard, bitch boy! This is one night you’ll never forget!”

And once more Will began to moan. A pathetic, whimpering sound. He repeated over and over: “Please, Sir, please, no… please don’t do this to me…”

But Alexander just laughed and fucked him harder.

What a beautiful sight, the master thought. A ripe chicken ready to be plucked. A slutty bitch-boy, totally unaware of how sexy he looked, legs spread in the air, tights clinging to those divine muscles. And driven crazy with lust as the potion coursed through his body.

In, out, in out. The fuck went on. Longer, harder, and each time Alexander felt he was about to come, he slowed the onslaught, denying himself that final release. The boy’s cunt must be getting very sore now, he thought to himself in grim amusement. Well, so fucking what if it was? It didn’t matter to him.

“You’re nothing, boy. You’re just a piece of meat to me. Something to use and abuse whenever I see fit. You’re a fucking slave toy. A couple of holes for me to stick my prick in whenever I’m feeling horny … and then tossed aside until I’m ready to use you again. What are you, bitch?”

Will mumbled something.

“Speak up, slut!”

Anything to stop the fucking, Will thought. Anything, I’ll say anything. The pain in his hole was too much. Alexander’s massive cock was splitting him in two…

“I’m your slut, Sir. Your tights bitch. Use me, Sir, please, use me…”

Hearing this, his master could hold back no longer. Letting out a rasping cry, he came and came again, wave after wave of ecstasy, spurting, flowing, flooding the boy’s hole. Will’s body trembled as it was filled by his master’s semen; the fluid rushing into his deepest parts.

Slowly, breathing deeply, Alexander withdrew his cock. He knelt back on his heels, and lowered the boy’s blue legs so they were spread either side of him.

“How do you feel, boy?”

The lad gibbered. His body too shocked, his mind too intoxicated to reply.

“Your cock is hard. Would you like me to pleasure it for you?”

Will’s brown eyes widened even more, and he nodded mutely.

An evil grin from Alexander, and his hand reached forward, slowly rubbing the boy’s modestly sized cock through the silky material of his tights. It would not take much now, thought the Steward, the boy’s been straining at the point of orgasm for some time.

Will bucked his hips up to meet the tender touch of his master. His cock desperate for release.

“You insolent little slut!” snapped Alexander, abruptly withdrawing his touch and slapping the page boy’s face. “You dare to think that I would condescend to pleasure you? Oh you have a lot to learn, tights bitch! You’ll be punished for your presumption!”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Will stammered. “I thought -”

“Silence!”

The Steward looked around the room. “Now, for a suitable punishment…”

He strode over to the chest of drawers and, hidden from Will’s view, he withdrew an object from within. Striding back to the bed, he resumed his position kneeling between Will’s legs. “Do you know what this is, bitch?”

He produced the item: it was cone-shaped and made of leather: narrow at one end, it soon widened at its base. Will had never seen anything like it. He shook his head.

“I’m going to insert this little toy into your butt, bitch. And there it will remain. It will plug you and make sure that my cum remains deep within you: a permanent reminder of the subjugation and servitude of your lowly position here in the castle.”

Will felt tears well up in his eyes. The plug was monstrous. He could not imagine having it inside him and retaining it at all times. Alexander cared not a jot. Again, the oily goo was produced and liberally smeared over the leather cone. And once again, Will found his sore and swollen hole stretched as the object was pushed into him.

“Aargh!” he cried.

“Just relax, boy, and let it in. It will be much easier if you don’t fight it.”

Will’s anus pulsed as the plug pushed deeper and deeper, his body swallowing the hateful thing: no choice, no release, as Alexander tormented him. Wider and wider it grew, till Will felt sure his body would tear. And then finally, some kind of relief, the plug slipped in, and his arse closed again, leaving only the flared flange at the base of the plug, protruding obscenely from between his asslips.

He barely registered as his wrists were untied. All he could think of was the big leather plug, filling his anus, sitting inside him like a great heavy lump.

“Stand up, boy.”

Tentatively, his legs shaking, Will slid off the end of the bed. The rag had been removed, but the wooziness of the potion persisted. The weight of the plug shifted within him as his body moved position, and the size of it meant that to accommodate it properly, he had to bend over slightly, pushing his bottom out in a provocative pose.

Alexander pulled up the waist of the boy’s tights and stood back to admire his handiwork. The trembling boy slut, arse fucked raw and now stuffed with a crude leather butt plug. His beautiful arse and legs outlined in the sweat-stained bright blue tights that clung to his lower regions. What pleasures the lad promised. And this night had been only the beginning…

The dead of night.

The whole of the castle seemed to be asleep.

Thank God for that, thought Will to himself, as he crept along the stone-clad corridors on his way back to the dormitory. Unceremoniously ejected from Alexander’s bedchamber, he stumbled along wearily, his waistcoat and pumps draped over his arm, his tights sodden with both his sweat and that of his master, his backside jutting out as he struggled to retain the massive butt plug inside.

If he could just make it back to his pallet in his sleeping quarters, all he could think of was the need to sleep, to let his body recover. At least Jane had been spared all this, Will thought with a sad little smile. That was some consolation.

He reached the large oak door that stood at the entrance to the dormitory. Suddenly a noise from the shadows made him jump. His heart sank as Raymond slipped stealthily from his hiding place behind a stone pillar. The older page was still dressed in his customary jerkin and yellow and black hose. Will was painfully aware that he was in quite a state: his naked torso soaked with sweat, his tights clinging to his lower half. He sighed. The last thing he needed after the ordeal of the past few hours was tormenting from Raymond.

As if reading the younger boy’s thoughts, Raymond spoke softly, and for the first time since the youths had met, somewhat kindly: “Are you alright?”

Spitefulness Will could have coped with, but being treated with consideration was too much to bear. His lower lip trembled and he began to sob softly.

“Shhh,” whispered Raymond. “It’s over now.” And approaching Will, he put his arms around the younger lad, and pulled him to him in an embrace. Several inches shorter than Raymond, Will buried his head into the older boy’s chest and continued to weep. Raymond held him there for a moment, and then lifted up Will’s chin and planted a soft, wet kiss on the blond lad’s pouting lips.

“I – I don’t understand…” Will stammered.

“It happened to me in my first week,” came the explanation. “Alexander likes to break in all the new page boys.”

He kissed Will again, and, as he did so, pressed the boy’s body close to his, grinding his tights-covered crotch into Will’s. Will’s cock, still desperate and straining for release, was hard again in an instant.

“I’m sorry if I’ve treated you unkindly, Will. I suppose I was just jealous. Before you arrived, I was Alexander’s favourite. You weren’t to know, but I guess nobody likes to be supplanted.”

Will marvelled that anyone could welcome the attention that he had had lavished on him that night. But then it came to him that a secret, hidden, shameful part of him had enjoyed the treatment he had suffered at the Chief Steward’s hands. Will pushed the thought away: some vestige of the witch’s brew must still be infecting his thoughts.

Instead, he responded to the warm attentions of Raymond’s tongue and lips. The boy’s skin was smooth and silky compared to the rough texture of Alexander’s beard.

“How did it feel?” he whispered. “Being tied up and used in your tights? Did you like it, Will?”

“Mmm,” Will murmured his assent.

“It’s okay. All the boys enjoy it. There’s not one lad here whose cock doesn’t go rock hard the moment he pulls up his hose in a morning. That’s the way it should be. It’s the way Lord Geoffrey likes it. It’s the way Alexander likes it. It’s the most exquisite thing in the world to see men and boys with great bodies: pert arses and muscly legs, encased in silky, clinging tights. You love the feeling, don’t you, Will?”

“Oh yes, Raymond. That first moment I pulled on my tights, I thought I would come straight away! I’d never felt anything like it.”

And as Will made his confession, he felt a hand at his crotch. Raymond began slowly to rub at Will’s engorged prick, sliding the sensuous material of his tights against his rock hard boy-cock. Will lifted his hand towards Raymond’s hose-covered bulge, intending to reciprocate, but the other boy pushed his hand away gently.

“It’s okay, Will,” he whispered in his ear. “This is just for you. You deserve it.”

And so, slowly, exquisitely, Will felt the tensing in his muscles, his whole body becoming rigid as his cock was edged to orgasm. Raymond’s tongue circled deep inside Will’s mouth to muffle the groans that Will made as his cock jerked and spurted his creamy jism into the tight constriction of his hose.

Will’s body became limp, and for a moment, he just hung there, Raymond supporting his weight and holding him tight.

Then, wordlessly, the dark-haired youth took Will by the hand and led him to his bed. As he walked, Will was reminded painfully of the butt plug nestling in his behind, prodding against his innards with every step. They reached Will’s pallet and he bent down exhaustedly to pull off his tights.

“Leave them on, Will. Sleep in them tonight. For me.”

Will smiled weakly and nodded. Drained of energy, exhausted and spent, he sank gratefully onto his straw-covered bed. The last thing he saw as he slipped into wonderful sleep was Raymond’s face, black curls flopping over his eyes, an enigmatic smile playing about his lips.

It seemed only moments later that Will was being shaken from his sleep.

“Wake up! Wake up!”

He opened his eyes drowsily, blinking against the autumn sun streaming through the dormitory window. Disoriented, he wondered if he had dreamed the previous night: the abuse and humiliation he had suffered at his Master’s hands, followed by the strange, tender interlude with Raymond. But then he became aware of the leather plug still lodged inside of him, and he realised grimly that it was all too real.

His bleary eyes focused on the person shaking him. It was Jonah, a tall, broad-shouldered youth whose considerable strength kept him well-occupied in the smithy. He wasn’t a handsome lad by any means: his features rather too coarse and brutal to be called that, but his impressive chest and bulging leg muscles in his grey tights attracted the attention of many an admiring glance from the male and the female inhabitants of the castle.

“You’re to go and see Alexander at once.”

“What? So soon?”

Jonah shrugged nonchalantly.

Dazed and fuzzy-headed, Will slipped out of bed, and started towards the bowl of water to wash his face.

“No time for that. Straight there was Alexander’s orders.”

Will sighed. He felt grimy from the previous night’s exertions, but he had no intention of displeasing the Steward. He glanced across the room to Raymond’s bed, but it lay empty. Pulling on his belt, waistcoat and pumps, Will bit his lip and headed off.

Once again, the castle’s newest page boy found himself entering the chambers of the Chief Steward.

Alexander sat in his well-upholstered chair behind his desk: scrolls and paper scattered across it. He was dressed in an expensive silver doublet, his fine legs encased in luxurious silver tights. He looked up as the dishevelled lad approached.

“Boy,” he said sternly.

“Sir?”

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“A little tired, Sir. And I ache all over”

Alexander snorted. “You’ll get used to it.”

He rose, circled the desk and stood behind Will. Will felt him grabbing hold of the base of the butt plug through the silky material of his tights.

“You feeling well-plugged, piglet?”

Slowly, Will felt the leather dong being withdrawn from his butt. The lubricant had dried over night and the plug was stuck fast. He winced. Its removal would come with some pain. But that was not Alexander’s intention. After only a few inches had left Will’s tired bottom, he shoved the plug back in, causing the page boy’s body to jolt in shock.

“Oh I think we’re going to leave that there, lad. It’s a pretty sight. Everyone in the castle can see the base of the plug through your tights. And they’ll all know that you’re my new bitch boy.”

Will gulped and felt his face redden.

Alexander continued to walk around him.

“I’m displeased, boy. In fact, I’m very angry. I’ve had a report that you have wilfully disobeyed my express instructions.”

“Sir?” Will’s face was suffused with a mixture of puzzlement and fear.

“Explain this, tights slave…” And with that, he pointed a bejewelled finger at Will’s crotch. Will looked down. There, in all its incriminating glory, was an inescapable patch of dried cum, a pale white stain marring the shimmering blueness of his hose – evidence of his orgasm the night before.

“I warned you, boy. I told you that pleasuring yourself was forbidden. But oh no, that didn’t stop you having a quick wank with that pathetic cock of yours the moment you were out of my sight.”

“But, Sir-“

“I’m not interested in your feeble excuses.”

Alexander turned to a shadowy recess in the corner of the room.

“Thank you, Raymond, for reporting this to me. You have done well.”

Sure enough, the dark-haired youth, dressed in his customary yellow hose, stepped into the light, a smug smile on his face.

“It gives me no pleasure, Sir. But I know how carefully you like to oversee the training of the junior page. And I was horrified at the thought that Will here would present himself to Lord Geoffrey with this tights stained with his own filthy excretion.”

“Quite unthinkable,” Alexander agreed.

Will wanted to protest – to cry out at the injustice of it all. He had been tricked! “Sir, can I explain?”

“Silence, bitch! You are in enough trouble as it is. And I’m in no mood to listen to your excuses and your lies. Lucky indeed that Raymond was still awake last night when you returned to your bed, and witnessed you rubbing yourself against your own sheets to bring yourself to climax.”

Will turned to Raymond, hoping feebly that he might confess the truth. Raymond merely looked at him, his eyes glittering triumphantly.

“So how to deal with you?” Alexander continued. “You clearly have the self-control of an alley cat. Maybe I was mistaken that you had the potential to serve your betters here in the castle. Maybe you should be returned to your family and join them in poverty and exile as you are expelled from your home.”

Will fell to his knees. “No, please, Sir!” he begged. “I’ll do anything, just please forgive me! I won’t do it again.”

“Hmmm…” murmured the Steward. “But how to ensure that you behave in the future? I cannot oversee you permanently. I’m far too busy with my other duties to do any more than take an occasional interest in your progress. What we need is someone to train you. Someone who has already carried out the duties of a junior page and who has already shown that they are concerned with your behaviour.”

Will’s heart sank as he perceived where this was leading.

“From now on, Raymond’s sole duty will to be to oversee you. You will obey him in all things, boy. He is my mouthpiece.”

Will glanced across to the older boy. Raymond could barely contain his glee.

“Now, I have plenty to do today and I can waste no further time on a horny little slut who can’t keep his hands out of his tights. I shall leave you in Raymond’s capable care…”

Raymond walked across to him, grabbed the leather collar and pulled Will back to his feet. “Come, boy. I fear we have much to do – and you have much to learn.”

Raymond bowed to Alexander and made to leave.

“Wait.” The Steward paused in thought. “The boy cannot be plugged permanently. He must of necessity evacuate himself from time to time.”

Will sighed in relief. This very thought had indeed occurred to him.

“But it would not do for him to remove the plug himself. Raymond, as part of your duties, every morning you will see to it that the bitch’s arse is thoroughly clean. You will lead him to the well in the centre of the castle courtyard. You will pull his tights down to his knees and bend him over. You will remove the plug from his bottom and then you will administer a purge using cold water from the well. Once he is well and truly full, you will lead him outside the castle gates where he can expel the water alongside the sheep and the other animals in the fields. That is fitting for his station, and it will afford all the residents of the castle some amusement to see him humiliated in this fashion. Once he is done and is perfectly clean, you will reinsert the plug and he will retain it within him until the same time the following morning. Is that all clear?”

Raymond was positively salivating at the prospect of controlling and abusing Will’s body in this way. “Oh yes, Sir. Crystal clear!”

Will’s distress had increased further and further as he listened to Alexander’s description of how each morning he would be publicly humiliated, his bowels flushed for the entertainment of all and sundry. Yet in spite of himself, he had found his cock hardening at the description of how he would be used.

This development did not pass unnoticed.

“I see the prospect of being treated in this way is exciting our little slave-slut,” drawled Alexander. “His naughty little cock is straining inside its tights once more. There really is no end to the depraved abuse that this bitch craves.”

He gave his own cock a firm squeeze through his silver hose.

“Now be off with you both.”

Raymond tugged at Will’s collar and, miserably, Will bowed to his master and followed the older boy.

OK - so I've decided to list the chapters chronologically. So that means the most recent chapter will show up first on this page.

If you want to start reading from the beginning you need to check out my first posting which was Chapter 1. Makes sense, I hope...

The oaken door clanged shut behind the two page boys. Alexander smiled to himself. Raymond had a vicious streak in him, he knew. The older boy would enjoy tormenting the younger – and then he would enjoy hearing every detail.

Meanwhile, he had other matters to attend to. This morning was market day in the nearby town of Dunchester, and the centre piece of the event was to be the monthly slave auction. Alexander did not usually purchase slave boys – he was perfectly capable of selecting his servants from the local minor nobility or, as in the case of his most recent acquisition, dragging them from the gutter to serve. The slaves on offer were usually rough mercenaries, captured from one of the King’s military expeditions abroad, and were usually either too stubborn or, more significantly, too ugly to interest the Steward. Lord Geoffrey required a certain standard of male beauty in his serving staff – and Alexander was only too happy to work towards those high standards.

Today, however, promised to be different. Rumour had it that the latest consignment of unfortunates ready to be offered up as slave meat to the local hierarchy were prisoners from some exotic Eastern land, renowned for the beauty and prowess of its young men. And Alexander could not resist the opportunity to get his hands on such prime specimens.

A mere hour later, and Alexander sat astride his horse in the town square, a bodyguard of four men, likewise mounted on their own steeds, awaiting the beginning of the auction. He surveyed the crowd. A few farmers, a couple of local merchants and minor landowners: no nobility or anyone who could challenge him financially should he spot something he liked the look of.

The crowd shuffled impatiently. Most of the assembled were lowly peasants who could only dream of owning a slave. They were there because Gregory the slave trader always put on a good show – and he made sure that the slaves he sold were dressed as skimpily as possible, so there would be plenty of bare male flesh for the sex-starved mob to slather over.

A horn sounded and Gregory – ever the showman – stepped onto the wooden platform. He was an evil-looking man: his head shaved and stubbly, his mouth crammed with a couple of shiny gold teeth, and a black patch covering the space where one of his eyes had been before a particularly bloody sortie. He wore a shabby leather jerkin, along with thick grey tights. Alexander viewed them disdainfully: they were rough and coarse compared to the delightfully erotic feel of his own silver hosiery.

“Friends!” Gregory cried. “Once again I am honoured to return to your delightful town to display the latest pickings from our noble majesty’s campaign in the East. The captives you are about to see come from distant Arabia: a sultry and sensuous land renowned for its proud and passionate people. They are not easily tamed, but their beauty is worth the while if you have a mind to try!”

The slave-trader gave a signal to one of his brutish heavies, and the first of the unfortunate men was dragged onto the stage. Dark-haired and olive skinned, the Arabian’s flesh was a burnished brown from the sun of his tropical native land. He was barefoot and naked apart from a skimpy thong made of a silken black material that barely covered his genitals, and which disappeared between the cheeks of his arse. The slave gazed shame-facedly at the floor, and Gregory forced the man’s chin up, forcing him to face the sniggering crowd. His body was muscled, but Alexander found the face rather ordinary and decided he would not be bidding on this occasion.

The first slave was sold for a fairly paltry amount to a widow woman, and Alexander watched as a second and then a third captive was brought out and then sold to the eager throng. Still he bided his time, knowing that the wily Gregory customarily saved the choicest morsels till the very end of the market session when the crowd was at its largest.

Sure enough, once a dozen or so slaves had been disposed of, Gregory licked his lips and bellowed to his audience: “And now, friends, we have the piece de resistance! Our final piece of manmeat for your delectation was one of the strongest and bravest soldiers in the Arabian army! It took fifteen men to subdue him, and he fought and struggled every step of the journey from his homeland to here. I give you – Darius!”

There was a commotion beside the stage as Gregory’s thugs shoved the new slave up the steps. Like the others, this one was locked into an iron collar, and his wrists and ankles were manacled together with bulky chains, making it difficult for him to walk. A thick leather gag was rammed in between his lips to prevent him uttering any objection to his treatment. Two thugs stood either side of him, Gregory clearly not trusting his most precious commodity not to try something foolhardy to avoid the humiliation of being sold into slavery.

Truly, thought Alexander, this was a thing of beauty. The Arabian known as Darius must have been about twenty-five years old, and he stood at just under six feet. Like his countrymen, he was bronzed and dark-haired. His thick black locks fell heavily from his brow to brush his broad shoulders. His well-developed chest muscles led down to a washboard stomach and a slim waist, and the skimpy black thong he had been poured into barely covered the bulge of his cock and balls. His thighs were thick and well-muscled, and already Alexander began mentally to form the image of those legs encased in a fine pair of tights courtesy of Master Yorick. Finally, Alexander’s gaze rested on the specimen’s face: wide-set almond eyes glared imperiously at his tormentors, and the chiselled features – the aquiline nose, the sharp cheekbones and the strong manly jaw - betrayed a pride that was undiminished in spite of the demeaning situation that he found himself in. Involuntarily, Alexander felt his cock twitch. Mmmm, the captive really was divine.

Gregory had begun his salesman’s pitch: “… Perfect health … own teeth … a strong and skilled swordsman …”

He gestured to one of his thugs, who approached the Persian somewhat nervously. And with good reason. As the heavy reached to lower the slave’s skimpy thong, Darius gritted his teeth and began to struggle, taking all the effort of the two men either side of him to restrain him. He would have kicked out had his legs not been shackled. His efforts were in vain, as the shimmering thong was yanked down to his knees, exposing his cock and balls.

Gregory used his wooden stick to prod at Darius’ (not so) private parts, not daring to come too close. “The slave has a good seven inches and is uncut,” he informed his audience, somewhat unnecessarily.

“Let’s see it hard!” came a coarse shout from the crowd.

“As you wish, my friend!” leered Gregory, and again he gestured to his reluctant sidekick.

Darius struggled and writhed as the thug inexpertly tugged at his prick, but in spite of himself, his cock, unloved and untouched since his capture, inevitably began to harden and rise.

Alexander was impressed. Once hard, the cock was truly beautiful. Indeed, everything about Darius the Arabian was beautiful.

“And of course,” Gregory was saying. “You discerning buyers would not be satisfied without seeing the back view!”

Darius continued to struggle as his captors turned him around so his back was to the crowd. He gnashed his teeth through his leather gag, as pressure was applied to the back of his neck and he had no choice but to bend down, his ass rising into the air for the enjoyment of the audience.

If there had been any element of doubt in Alexander’s mind before, it was banished now. The bronzed globes of the slave’s butt were indecently inviting. Alexander imagined getting his hands on that backside, spanking that ass with his best leather belt. Entering that tight little asshole with his lengthy prick. He had to have that slave.

Darius continued to struggle, little knowing that the wriggling and writhing only served to provoke his audience all the more: his arse undulating and bobbing back and forth in its bondage.

Alexander raised his voice and called to the platform. “You should subdue him, Gregory! Have you a phallus handy to enter into that peachy bum?”

“Ah – Master Alexander! A brilliant suggestion! I should have expected nothing less from such a wise man as you!”

A crude wooden trunk was dragged onto the stage and Alexander watched as Gregory rifled through its contents. Eventually he seemed to find what he had been looking for: he produced a thick, black leather plug. Ingeniously, the plug ended in a long horse-hair tail.

“Lord Darius was a renowned horseman before his fall from grace!” yelled the slave-trader. “Perhaps he will learn to appreciate being ridden himself!”

The crowd guffawed at Gregory’s low wit, and then began to jeer and catcall as Darius’ fine, sweating body was manoeuvred into position: side on to the crowd so that they would not miss a moment of his impalement.

Alexander observed the slave’s face redden in shock as he felt Gregory spit against his puckered hole and the blunt dildo presented to his arse. No time for delicacy, once positioned against its target, Gregory pushed with all his might and in one moment, the entire length of the fake cock was pushed into Darius’ puckered man-pussy.

The crowd screamed its delight to see the phallus swallowed whole. And instantaneously, the fight seemed to go out of the restrained Darius. Impaled on the leather cock, the horse-hair tail sticking obscenely out of his rear end, the once-proud warrior slumped into the arms of his captors.

“Why, that does indeed seem to have done the trick, my Lord!” crowed Gregory. “The heathen scum is quite subdued. Mayhap we should make him trot around the town square – jumping over some fences!”

By now, the crowd were worked into a frenzy of hysterical laughter. The proud barbarian warrior reduced to the mockery of a bunch of peasants: his forehead practically touching the ground, his arse stuck up high in the air and a fake horse’s tail stuck out of his man-hole.

“Enough of this!” called Alexander. As much as it entertained him to see the slave publicly humiliated, he was impatient to claim ownership of the Persian and return him to the castle where he could enjoy him at his own leisure. “Are you to sell him or merely play with him, Gregory?”

“All in good time, my Lord! Surely you would not deny the townsfolk their pleasure? It’s not every day such a beautiful specimen appears for their delectation, now, is it?”

“I will have him, Gregory,” Alexander called out imperiously, and with that, he tossed a large bag of silver coins onto the stage. “My time is precious and I do not have the inclination to waste any of it bartering over this creature.”

Gregory eyed the bag of silver greedily. “But, my Lord, be fair. This isn’t how things are done at the auction. Surely you would not deny these other good folk their chance to bid for the Arabian?”

Alexander addressed the crowd. “Well, does anyone wish to bid against me for this slave?”

A hush fell on the square. Alexander’s reputation preceded him. No one would dare to gainsay him in this matter.

“Then it is settled. Have the slave brought to me, Gregory. I will take him to the castle immediately.”

On the journey home, Alexander marvelled at his good fortune: two beautiful new pieces of man flesh acquired in little more than a week. First, the pert little peasant boy, and now this magnificent creature. Both very different and appealing in contrasting ways, but both his to own and possess and to treat precisely as he wished. He glanced over his shoulder to see where Darius the Arabian had been flung unceremoniously over the back of one of his bodyguard’s steeds. The ingenious horse-tail phallus was still firmly lodged in the slave’s butt, and bounced up and down over every rut in the dirt track they followed.

Now, he mused. How to subdue this new acquisition? It would not be as simple as his treatment of the blond page boy. Darius had nothing to lose in this strange new land. And from the proud look on those noble features, Alexander strongly suspected that Darius would rather die than submit himself to the humiliation of being used and subjugated by another man. Well, he thought to himself, he would have to take steps, little by little, to break the soldier’s will until he would beg Alexander to fuck those perfect ass cheeks, morning noon and night…

Before long they arrived back at the castle.

“Take the slave to the dungeons,” Alexander instructed his guards. “I will see to him shortly.”

Darius was manhandled off the back of the horse and, still struggling somewhat, roughly pushed along to the iron grate that was the entrance to the dungeon. Some of the castle-dwellers paused in their work to see the naked, bronzed Adonis appear in their midst, and a couple giggled when they noticed the horse’s tail jutting out from his arse. Alexander smirked as he saw Darius’ face redden. Then he turned on his heel to head towards the workshop of Master Yorick.

The muscular little man nodded courteously as Alexander entered his domain. “And what can I do for you, Alexander?”

“I have acquired a new slave, Yorick.” And Alexander proceeded to tell him of the morning’s events.

“Oh, I envy you, Alexander,” Yorick smiled. “If I had all the staff of this castle at my beck and call, I’d never leave my bedchamber. It’s a wonder to me that you get anything done!”

“So, I’m looking for some clothing for my new purchase. It will be some time before he is sufficiently broken that I may use him for meaningful work around the castle, so on this occasion the customary uniform will be impractical.”

“Yes, I see. You need something to keep him in whilst he undergoes your more specific kind of training.”

“Quite. I shall need some kind of garment that will emphasise his position here as my personal slut. Something sensuous and kinky. So that as he wears it, he will be unable to forget that he is being used, demeaned and humiliated. Oh, and of course it will need to leave his asshole exposed and available to me at all times.”

“Of course,” grinned Yorick. The costumier made his way to his vast chest of clothing. “As luck would have it, Alexander, I think I may have just the thing. It’s an item of my own design that I made some time ago for my own personal pleasure. I’ve never had cause to use it on anyone before, but I think on this occasion it may be just the thing.”

With a flourish, Yorick produced the garment.

Alexander’s eyes widened in appreciation.

“It is perfect.”

Alexander descended the stone steps that led to the castle’s dungeon. He made his way through the various corridors and ante-chambers, each of them unlocked for him by the gaoler. Eventually he reached the largest room in the network of the dungeon: the torture chamber.

As torture chambers went, Castle de Montford’s was rather handsomely furnished. Long black drapes adorned the flagstone walls, and fiery torches burned in their brackets. A variety of racks, crosses and stocks were ranged around the cellar, and one entire wall was given over to a collection of leather cuffs, cockrings, nipple clamps and an eye-watering array of plugs and phalluses of all shapes and sizes.

There, in the centre of the room, hung Darius the Arabian. His wrists remained manacled together, only now the cuffs were attached to a long chain that disappeared into the gloom of the ceiling, forcing the handsome young man’s arms above his head. As yet there was sufficient give in the chain to allow him to stand with his feet on the floor. He was still naked, and Gregory’s cruel horse tail plug still bulged from his arse.

Two of Alexander’s bodyguard stood discreetly against the wall. Suddenly Darius spotted the Steward and he began thrashing about impotently, as if trying to yank the solid chain out of the ceiling with brute force. Alexander watched appreciatively as the young man’s muscles flexed and strained, trying to dislodge the source of his bondage. Let him try, he thought. The more exhausted he becomes, the more easily he will submit. Besides, it was a novel diversion for the Steward to encounter such spirit in a slave.

“You work out all that excess energy,” he murmured patronisingly. “It will do you good. Besides, I don’t want my new prize stallion’s muscles growing flabby now, do I?”

The equine reference caused Darius to glance behind him at the novel tail that nestled in his backside. He turned and glared at Alexander, malevolent fury in his eyes.

“Yes?” purred the Steward. “You look as if you’d like to say something. Maybe I should remove this pesky gag…”

Instinctively, one of the guards stepped forward, only for Alexander to wave him away. “I can do it.”

Reaching behind his new slave’s head, Alexander unbuckled the leather strap and removed the large gag from between Darius’ parched lips.

Almost at once, the former soldier began to speak: his voice at first cracked and hoarse, but growing richer and deeper as he went on.

“This is an outrage,” he began. “I am a prisoner of war and you have no right to treat me in this fashion! I am the jewel of the Arabian army – their prize fighter! I was captured by treachery and subterfuge, and then surrendered to that squalid slave-trader. I demand to be taken to your King – at once!”

Alexander merely smiled. “Hush now, my pet. You’re not going anywhere. Maybe you were the great war hero once, but that is ancient history now. You’re mine. You’re here to please me. If you succeed, perhaps your life may grow a little easier. If you continue to behave in this uncouth and stubborn fashion, I fear your life at Castle de Montford will not be a happy one.”

“You craven coward! Loitering here at home whilst your betters fight abroad. At least they have their dignity!”

Alexander’s face darkened. “Your lack of respect distresses me, slave. I can understand now why Gregory chose to keep you muzzled.” And with those words, he grabbed the horse tail phallus from Darius’ ass and yanked it out of his hole. “I think I may well choose to do likewise.”

A muffled grunt from the Arabian as he found the long leather cock pushed between his lips. His face distorted in disgust as he tasted the juices of his own ass fresh on the surface of the phallus.

“Lick it, slave!” ordered his new master. “Tastes good, yes? It should do – it’s your own sweet ass juice!”

Darius shook his head from side to side to try and dislodge the invading dildo, but Alexander’s grip remained firm. Indeed, he started to shove the leather prong deeper and deeper, forcing Darius to gag as it went deeper and deeper into his throat.

Alexander smiled grimly. “You see, slut, you will learn obedience. How long it takes and how painful the process is entirely down to you.”

He withdrew the phallus abruptly and flung it to the floor.

Darius made to speak but a warning glance from Alexander made him hesitate.

“It’s not so difficult now, bitch, is it?” taunted the Steward. “You’re learning already! So much for the great Arabian warrior!”

His captive glared at him, a fiery hatred deep in his large almond-shaped eyes.

“Beware, slave. You’re in no position to show insolence. You are entirely at my mercy.” Alexander grabbed the Arabian’s low-hanging balls and squeezed them. “Maybe I should geld you… some of that fire might go out of you if you were a eunuch…”

His captive’s brown skin paled.

Alexander chuckled. “Oh, have no fear. I want all your parts left intact: for my entertainment and amusement.” He reached into a dark velvet pouch slung at his waist. “Now it doesn’t do to have the prime of the Arabian army standing before me as naked as an infant. Your dignity deserves more than that, I think. We should get you dressed.”

Darius snorted. “Finally you treat me with the respect my position affords, you filthy savage.”

Alexander let that pass, storing the insult away for later. Instead, he withdrew from the pouch the garment that Master Yorick had given him. Unrolling it slowly, he revealed a shimmering, iridescent item: a pair of bright scarlet tights. These tights, however, differed from those worn by all the men in the castle. Instead of the customary thick opacity, these hose were gossamer fine: the material so translucent Alexander could see his hands through it. The sensation of handling them was exquisite – he could only imagine the sensuality that these sheer tights would arouse in a man. But that was not the end of Yorick’s ingenuity. Suspecting that these clothes would not be worn for any mundane purpose, his erotic imagination had led him to remove the material where the gusset should have been: thus the legs of the hose dangled from a thin strip that would encircle the wearer’s waist but leave the genitals and backside exposed and vulnerable.

Alexander’s captive gulped as he saw the sheer stockings in the Steward’s hands. “You cannot imagine that I will wear such a licentious item. It’s the kind of thing the harem girls wear in my Sultan’s palace…” His voice trailed away.

“But you see, my slaveboy. You’re going to have to change your image of yourself. You are no longer the brave, masculine hero – feared and admired by thousands of men. You are my bitch toy – to be used and abused however I see fit. Think of yourselves as one of those whores in those great Arabian palaces of yours in the East. I have a feeling that wearing these tights will help you to adjust your self-image.”

Darius clenched his teeth. “I will never wear such a demeaning item.”

“We shall see. Guards!”

At once, the men-at-arms who had been lurking in the shadows of the dungeon sprang to attention. Alexander tossed the flimsy stockings to one of them. “Put these on him.”

The slave began to writhe and thrash to avoid being dressed in the humiliating hosiery.

“Something to pacify him is required. It would not do to tear such a delicate garment.”

Alexander again reached into his velvet pouch and this time withdrew a handkerchief, which he doused liberally with some of his herbal potion. The heady vapours filled the underground chamber. Darius’ eyes widened with suspicion as his tormentor stood behind him. “What evil is this?” he demanded.

In reply, Alexander placed the handkerchief firmly over the slave’s nose and mouth, pressing the liquid-soaked cloth in place. For a moment, his handsome victim struggled, but soon the aroma was doing its work, and Alexander felt the strong muscular body relax in spite of itself.

“Now, dress the bitch!” he ordered.

Slowly the guard rolled up one leg of the slutty stockings and placed Darius’ left foot inside it. Alexander’s cock pulsed to see his new slave being encased in such delightfully erotic clothing. First the foot, then the strong curve of his calf muscle were covered with the clinging, stretchy material. The stocking was rolled further and further up. Now Darius’ thigh shimmered scarlet. And then it was time for the other leg. With his free hand, Alexander rubbed languorously at his own crotch, excited at the sight of both of the soldier’s strong masculine legs wearing the forbidden femininity of the tights.

The sensation was affecting the slave himself. As the witch’s poison coursed through his body, he was being made ultra-aware of every touch, and the feeling of the stockings clinging to his legs caused him to undulate and buck. His cock lengthened and hardened so that it stood perpendicular to his body – gaping through the specially designed hole in the garment. The guard reached the top, and carefully adjusted the waist-band of the tights. Alexander stood back to view his handiwork, and was immensely satisfied with the vision before him.

“Oh yes,” he breathed longingly. “You were made to be dressed thus. Those kinky tights really do suit you very well, my naughty little slut. And you’re loving it, aren’t you – in spite of your protestations to the contrary!”

Darius lifted his head weakly, too intoxicated to talk. But his heart pounded and his breathing was heavy. He gazed down in obvious shame that his cock was so flagrantly betraying his arousal.

Next, Alexander fetched a thin leather strap from the shelves that lined the walls of the dungeon. Expertly, he wrapped it around the slave’s straining prick and balls and pulled tight. Each end of the cord was fixed with little metal clamps with serrated teeth. Smirking grimly, he attached the vices to the Arabian’s pert brown nipples. As the cruel teeth sank into the tender flesh, Darius emitted a gasp of pain. To emphasise the discomfort, Alexander tugged the leather cords towards him, which caused the nipple clamps to pull at the slave’s tits.

“Ahhh!” he moaned.

His master ignored him, and instead removed his embroidered silver doublet and white cotton shirt so that he stood before his slave dressed in only luxurious silver hose and long black leather boots.

“Now for the finishing touches, my little Arabian whore. This will really make you look the part.”

For a third time, his hand entered the pouch at his waist.

“These belonged to a fine lady of the court. I feel sure she would be horrified to know they were being used to decorate a tarty bitch such as you…”

Raising his slave’s chin, Alexander produced a thick black pencil, and began drawing a kohl outline around those luminous almond eyes. Next, a brush applied a generous coating of gloopy black to the long eyelashes. Once that was completed, Alexander dusted fine lilac powder above the slave’s eyes, and brushed a thick coating of rouge along the line of his razor-sharp cheekbones. Finally, the Arabian’s full lips were smeared in glutinous crimson lipstick, which Alexander applied casually and liberally so that Darius’ lips appeared bee-stung and swollen. Once the face was decorated to the Steward’s perverted satisfaction, he took the red paint and daubed “SLUT” in large capital letters across Darius’ considerable pectoral muscles. Almost as an afterthought, he took the brush, and inserting it between the slave’s arse cheeks, coated the slave’s swollen anus with the red gloop.

“Regard yourself!” he commanded, and with a flourish, the guards wheeled in a full-length looking-glass and positioned it in front of the bound young man.

Helplessly, Darius viewed his reflection. He barely recognised himself. His muscular arms still raised above his head, chained together in a position of bondage and submission. The lighter flesh of his armpits was on display. His black hair fell in curtains to frame his once-handsome face, now a grotesque parody of womanhood. Black kohl-rimmed eyes gazed out in self-pity. His lips were a raw gash of smeared red paint, the whorish rouge on his cheeks a contrast with his thick, manly jaw line.

His nipples were tweaked into swollen erection, still clamped between the vicious teeth of the torture device, and just above them the humiliating proclamation “SLUT” brazenly scrawled across his chest. The leather that encircled his engorged cock refused to allow any lessening of his arousal.

Finally, he forced himself to look at his lower-half: his strong soldier’s legs enclosed in the gauzy sheerness of his red tights. Never had he worn such devastatingly revealing clothing. A body used to strong leather trousers, armour, fighting gear was now on display in the most shockingly erotic garment he could have envisaged. The delicate flimsiness caressed his aching limbs, shifting over his bulging muscles, arousing in its forbidden pleasures. He felt more naked and vulnerable wearing the stockings than had he been completely nude.

“Oh yes, slut,” came his new master’s voice. “This is your true vocation. Your new life. A toy for my pleasure. A piece of meat. To be dressed up. Degraded. Humiliated. Dressed in the garments of a harlot. A street girl. That’s all you are now, my pretty, sweet, little bitch-boy.”

“I would rather die,” murmured the distressed slave. “Please, kill me now. I cannot bear the shame of being treated like this. Show me mercy. I will not submit to your lurid perversions.”

“Ha! As if you have a choice. You can beg all you like. And you will beg. Oh, how you will beg! But it will do you no good. Truly the depths of my ‘perversions’, as you call them, are boundless. Especially when I am presented with such a perfect example of male beauty – a hunk of meat for my delectation!”

Darius hung his head – his thick hair falling into his extensively made-up eyes.

“How do you feel, bitch? Tell me of the sensations you experience.”

“I feel – “ he hesitated, knowing that his description would serve only to arouse his hated captor all the more, but unable to stop himself conveying his suffering. “I feel degraded. I am a great soldier and yet I have been made up to look like a mere concubine – my face smeared with paint, and my body dressed in shameful scarlet stockings…”

“That’s right,” concurred Alexander, rubbing idly at his hosed crotch. “That’s exactly what you are – a shameful hussy. And we all know the sole purpose of a hussy…”

He chuckled slowly. “Guards – place him on the platform…”

The bewildered Darius span around as the two bodyguards manoeuvred a wooden block under him. Looking down he saw it in fact consisted of two wooden cubes – each two foot along each side. The blocks were fastened together by means of a metal clasp. Being raised higher meant that the chain attached to the ceiling was slackened, affording him some relief. He lowered his arms. However, the respite was to be all too brief. The first guard moved to a metal wheel attached to the wall, and began to turn the handle. Sure enough, the slack in the chain disappeared as it was pulled into the mechanism in the ceiling, once again forcing Darius’ arms high above his head.

Anxiety overcame the Arabian. What did his perverted tormentor plan for him next? The guard crossed back to him, unclipped the two wooden cubes, and separated them so that they were an inch or two apart, and so that one of Darius’ red stockinged feet stood on each of them.

“What does this mean, you crazy bastard?” demanded the slave.

“Your hole has been empty far too long, bitch,” replied Alexander. “We’re going to remedy that…”

There it was. The guards had moved it into position directly beneath Darius’ vulnerable hole.

A long wooden pole, with a heavy metal base at one end, and at the other, a long, thick, black leather dildo. Alexander casually smeared the dong with some form of lubricant. “Bacon lard for a pig’s arse,” he whispered.

In his current position, Darius was safe. The head of the dildo was a good three or four inches shy of his asshole. But he could see in his reflection that were the leather dildo to slip inside him he would be skewered painfully.

“You can’t do this to me!” he demanded.

Alexander merely laughed. “Oh I think you’ll find I can. And you look so hot right now, in your slutty outfit, your face smeared with paint, and that big leather cock ready to penetrate your arse.”

He nodded to the guards. “Pull the blocks apart a little.”

His lackeys did as he instructed, and Darius instantly saw what his captor’s plan was. As the blocks were separated, his stockinged feet were forced into a wider stance, causing his torso to sink. Now his arse hole hovered perilously, a mere inch or two above the brutal phallus.

“You merely postpone the inevitable, Arab,” spat Alexander. “Why not let that pussy ass of yours sink onto the dildo. I promise you it will feel good.”

“Never!” yelled Darius.

“Insolent bitch! Guards – further apart!”

The blocks were pulled further in opposite directions. Now Darius was forced to stand on the very extreme of his tiptoes, his considerable leg muscles straining within their slutty hose. And even so, he could feel the head of the leather cock nudging at his anus. He gritted his teeth. He was determined not to give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing his butt penetrated.

“Nearly there, now…” murmured Alexander. “I tend to find all the fight goes out of you bitches once they’re stuck on the end of my pole…”

“I – will – never – submit to you!”

“Oh, never’s an awfully long time, you know. And I think your hole must be feeling rather hungry by now. Guards – you know what to do!”

The blocks were moved apart once more, and this time there was nothing he could do. Although Darius strained every sinew to prevent it, the inevitable happened, his stockinged legs spread wide, his body sank, and the massive head of the dildo slipped inside his arse.

“Aaaaargh!” he yelled.

Alexander reached across to grab his slave’s cock, and began to pump.

“It seems you’re enjoying the experience more than you let on,” he crowed, as the Arab’s cock began to harden and lengthen.

“Curse you! Curse you to Hell!”

“Oh you’ll soon learn the true meaning of Hell, slave bitch!”

Mustering all his effort, Darius gripped the chain that manacled his hands together and began to pull himself up.

“Mmmm,” murmured Alexander. “Very nice. Yes. Yes. Fuck yourself on that big leather dong…” He rubbed at his own cock appreciatively.

Sweating with pain and exertion, Darius managed to lift his body high enough, and with a smooth pop, the head of the dildo emerged from his yielding butt cheeks. He glared defiantly at Alexander.

“You can’t maintain that position forever,” taunted the Steward. “Even a dumb hunk of muscle like you will weaken eventually. And when you do, that big long cock will be ready to slide all the way into you… And I’ll get to see my whore impaled on a fucking fake prick. Skewered like a piece of meat…”

The wooden blocks were yanked even further apart, and sure enough, as Alexander had predicted, Darius’ arm muscles began to tire and weaken. The weeks in captivity and lack of food were taking their toll on him. Desperately he tried to cling on, but then a cramp hit him in his arm, and he had no choice but to sink down, lower than before. The dildo sank even deeper within him. Again he cried out at the intense pain of penetration.

“My beautiful slut bitch, made up and dressed up in her slinky stockings. What a sight. How I wish the men you commanded in your army could see their butch captain now!”

Again, Darius tried to pull himself up, but he was weaker now, and all his efforts served to do was to fuck his arse on the leather prong. He couldn’t manage to get himself high enough to escape the evil phallus altogether, and each time he sank onto it, it went deeper and deeper inside him.

As he writhed and struggled, Alexander worked his cock through the gap in Darius’ hosiery.

“This is turning you on, slave, isn’t it? In spite of yourself! Maybe we have found your true vocation. To be dressed like a street whore and to have your arse relentlessly ploughed. You want to cum, don’t you, bitch? You really want it!”

Darius hated himself for it, but the weeks of sexual frustration that slavery had brought were all coming to a head. If only he could be allowed to cum now that would be some kind of release.

“Get into position, men!” instructed Alexander to his guards. “When I say the word…”

Darius looked about him in confusion as the lackeys stood by each of the wooden blocks that he was balanced precariously atop.

Just as he found his ejaculation building, he heard Alexander issue the command. “Now!”

Simultaneously, the guards kicked away the wooden blocks that had supported Darius. Immediately his body slumped all the way down, sinking to the floor, so that the cruel dong shot up, deep inside him like a lightning rod. And at that precise moment, he yowled like a tortured animal, as his cum streamed from his red cock in massive loops across the torture chamber.

The Arabian’s scream reverberated around the stone walls of the castle, and its varied inhabitants paused for a moment as they pondered what Alexander might be doing with his latest acquisition.

The moment was brief, however, for now their attention returned to the matter in hand. Young Raymond had let it be known to anyone who cared the precise details of his latest task. So by know, quite a crowd had gathered to see Raymond lead the blushing Will into the centre of the castle courtyard.

Raymond had attached a leash to Will’s leather collar, and he tugged at it as if Will were a mere dumb beast. Will stumbled along behind him, hurrying to try and keep up with Raymond’s longer stride. He was painfully aware of the whispering sniggers from the crowd that had gathered to observe his humiliation. He only hoped that sweet Jane might not be there, but he didn’t dare to look up in case she were.

Raymond came to a halt at the side of the well. He cleared his throat and addressed his audience.

“Friends!” he called warmly. “It is good to see so many of you gathered here to witness this little brat finally being put in his place. He needs to learn that in comparison with his betters, he is no more than a stinking animal. Master Alexander has instructed me to wash him both outside … and in!”

Raucous laughter burst out from the onlookers.

Will gulped and clenched his fists in shame.

“Now, sissy boy,” hissed Raymond. “Bend over the edge of the well.”

Will hesitated but obeyed, lest he enrage his new enemy any further. The brick rim of the well was high, so he had to stand on tiptoe to try and manage it. In the end, he had to haul himself up with his hands, balancing his chest across the brickwork. His blond hair flopped in his eyes, as he gazed into the murky damp of the well. His feet dangled some distance from the ground, and he was painfully aware of his hose-clad butt sticking out, inviting and vulnerable as his legs hung in the air.

“That’s quite an arse!” came a cry from the crowd.

“I’ve got something in my tights that will fill you up good and proper, page boy!” called another.

The crowd shrieked as if it were the wittiest thing they’d ever heard.

“Hush!” ordered Raymond. “No one may touch the bitch without my express permission! Alexander has placed it in my personal responsibility!”

Will was aware of a sullen muttering, suggesting that Raymond’s arrogance was winning him few friends. But these thoughts were dashed from his mind, as he felt Raymond’s eager fingers tugging at the waistband of his hose.

“Let’s get some air to the bitch-boy’s pussy!” the older boy declared.

And with one swift movement, Will’s silken blue tights were yanked down: just far enough to keep his legs encased, so the waistband nestled just below his arse cheeks.

Will felt the morning breeze caress his naked skin. However, the next sensation was not so gentle, as Raymond grabbed the base of the large plug that was still lodged deep within him, and pulled it from his boyish bum.

“Owwww!” Will couldn’t help but cry. The plug had become lodged so firmly within him. And of course his audience laughed even harder and more harshly.

His arse felt empty for the first time he could remember, and he felt the air on his swollen arse-lips.

Suddenly, Raymond was whispering in his ear. “Don’t worry, fuck-boy. Your cunt won’t be left empty for long…”

Raymond was as good as his word. Will was in no position to see what was to happen to him, so all he could rely on was his sense of touch. He felt a cold metal nib pressed against his puckered anus. A slight grunt of exertion from Raymond, and Will gasped in shock as ice cold water flooded up his backside and into his stomach.

More laughter from the crowd, delighted with Will’s shocked reaction to the enema. He had only been dimly aware of what Alexander had meant when he had promised him a daily purge. Now the reality sank in. What he would later learn was that Raymond was operating a curious contraption, made of two wooden paddles, joined together with concertina’d leather, to form a kind of bellows. Raymond drew water into the bellows, freshly drawn from the icy depths of the well, and then, bringing the wooden paddles together, forced the liquid into Will.

The bellows were withdrawn, refilled, and once again, Will received a quantity of water into his fundament. Will’s head span with the humiliation of it all. He no longer had any control over what went in or out of his ass.

“We’re going to fill you right up to the brim, bitch!” said Raymond gleefully.

A third squeeze, and now the water in his stomach made it very uncomfortable for Will, lying flat against the bricks of the well wall.

The bellows were withdrawn again.

“You squeeze those ass muscles, tight, now,” taunted Raymond. “If you let even a drop of that water escape from your arse, I’ll belt you till you bleed!”

Will desperately did as he was told, and tried to tighten his sphincter. He had no desire to soil himself in front of the population of the castle. Once again, he hoped dearly that Jane was busy elsewhere at this moment.

Another flush of water entered him, and now the danger began. A sudden cramp hit him in the stomach, so that he cried out in pain. His body desperately wanted and needed to expel the large amount of water sloshing about inside his belly.

“Awww,” said Raymond in mock sympathy. “Is the little tights bitch getting cramps?” His tone became harsh. “Tough shit. Pucker up and get ready for another blast!”

As good as his word, the next dose of water came more viciously than any before.

“I’m in trouble now,” Will thought to himself, unable to see how he could possibly retain this quantity of water within him. The ice coldness had made his asshole numb, and so it was harder than ever to try and control it and keep the liquid inside.

Just then, another wave of cramps hit, and Will began to pant heavily with the effort of not doing what every muscle in his body was telling him to: relax his asshole and let that painful, torturing water flood out of him.

“I think that’ll do for now,” said Raymond, casually. “You’re only a novice after all…”

Will was manhandled down from his exposed position, and allowed to stand unsteadily on the ground.

His belly bulged, distended with the water inside it.

“Will you look at that!” jeered Raymond. “This bitch does love to be punished. A public enema in front of the whole castle – and his dick is rock hard!”

Will blushed crimson. It was unmistakeably true. With his blue tights still half way down his legs, and in spite of the gurgling and cramping in his stomach, his cock was standing upright and proud regardless.

A solitary tear escaped from Will’s eye. The humiliation was too much, too extreme. He just wanted to go home.

But there was to be no such respite.

“Pull up your tights, you disgusting little pervert!” ordered Raymond. “There are ladies present!”

As soon as he did it, he knew it was a mistake, but instinctively Will looked up to see the crowd. Sure enough, in amongst the mixture of amused and repulsed faces, he saw Jane’s pretty little face gazing at him with a mixture of pity and distaste.

“I said pull up your tights, bitch! Or do you get some kind of weird kick out of displaying your pathetic excuse for a cock to everyone?”

Will fumbled for the waist band of his hose, and quickly tugged them up, to give him the semblance of some kind of modesty.

“Now, we’ll go into the field. And remember, you keep all that water deep inside you. If I see even a spot has leaked into your tights, there’ll be trouble!”

Raymond grabbed the leash again, and tugged. Will set off, bent double and walking in an awkward, spread-legged fashion: his thighs turned out and his ass sticking out as his belly wobbled and rumbled. He prayed desperately that he could retain enough control of his muscles not to leak into his hose.

The walk seemed interminable, especially as he was hit with a fresh wave of cramps midway, and it took every effort of will not to shit himself there and then.

Eventually, Will and his tormentor made it beyond the castle gates and into the fields.

Raymond yanked Will’s tights down to his ankles.

“Get on your hands and knees where you belong!”

Will did so, his arse sticking up high in the air.

He gritted his teeth. And waited. And waited. Would permission never come?

And then finally, the relief…

“Go on, then, bitch. Let your enema out. Now.”

The days passed, and if it were possible, Will managed to fall into a kind of routine.

The purge remained by far the worst part of it all. Raymond continued to take a wicked pleasure in forcing more water up Will’s arse than he thought possible. But as the novelty wore off, fewer and fewer of the castle’s residents turned out to observe his daily humiliation. Unfortunately, this fact seemed to annoy Raymond even more: as if the dwindling audience was somehow a reflection on his skills as an entertainer. As a result, Raymond was even surlier and crueller than usual in his treatment of Will. Will could tell that Raymond was planning something. He didn’t know what it would be, but he was sure that it would only mean ill fortune for him…

One thing Will did notice and which puzzled him was that, every day, regular as clockwork, a silhouetted figure appeared in one of the castle’s shortest, squattest towers. The figure remained for as long as Will’s daily enema lasted, and, as soon as Raymond had instructed him to wipe his arse, pull up his tights and get back to work, the figure vanished. Will had no friend to ask about the identity of the mysterious observer. He had not even seen Jane since his public humiliation. Although, truth be told, that was rather a relief. He wasn’t sure if he could bear to see again that pitying look of disgust on her sweet face.

The rest of his time was spent in a pretty monotonous fashion. He was ordered hither and thither by all and sundry. Raymond continued to insult him in ever more imaginative and degrading ways. And he still got butterflies in his stomach every time the evening came and he was required to wait yet again on the saturnine Lord Geoffrey.

At least, and to his relief, Master Alexander almost seemed to have forgotten about him. He appeared to be pretty well occupied with whatever duties kept him in the dungeons. And given the frequency and intensity of the screams emanating from that area of the castle, Will reckoned the less he knew about that the better.

It had been a day much like any other. Raymond had sent him to fetch some materials to Master Yorick’s workshop. This had entailed the customary grope of his tighted arse that Yorick demanded every time he saw him. Will was finding he didn’t really mind – indeed, he was almost becoming used to being regarded as a mere commodity – a pretty body for anyone to fondle if they fancied it. Besides, any time spent away from Raymond was a blessed relief.

The dormitory he shared with all the other young men of the castle was dark and hushed as he entered it. It wasn’t particularly late, but Will had no desire to incur the wrath of his dorm-mates. He sank heavily onto his straw pallet and pulled his waistcoat over his head. He slipped off his leather pumps and was about to remove his tights when, in an instant, a large hand covered his mouth and nose. He made to turn, but his attacker wrestled his arm behind his back in a painful lock position.

Will began to panic. The hairy, sweaty hand was smothering him. What was going on? Was this the latest of Raymond’s tricks? But the stranger who held him tight against his body was bigger and burlier than the lithe Raymond…

Just as he thought he would surely slip into unconsciousness, Will felt his attacker release his grip. Will spluttered, getting his breath back, and found himself flipped over onto his back on his crude bed.

As his head hit the makeshift pillow, he found himself straddled by his assailant. The enemy sat heavily on his stomach, and pinioned Will to the bed by his wrists. Will gazed up, still disoriented.

“Jonah?”

Sure enough, the heavily muscled and brutish Jonah, the smithy’s assistant, leered down at him.

“I – I don’t understand!” pleaded Will.

And then, unsurprisingly, the silver-tongued Raymond appeared over Jonah’s shoulder. He looked down at Will with contempt in his eyes.

“You know how strict Lord Geoffrey’s rules are about boys pleasuring themselves in the castle. And you also have first hand experience of how quickly gossip spreads… And you have here a room full of twenty or thirty young men, testosterone oozing from every pore, and no way of releasing that sexual frustration.”

Raymond paused for effect.

“And into this melting pot, comes a pretty little blond bitch like you. The lowest of the low. With two rosy lips that will take a cock very easily, and an arse that any one of the boys here can easily imagine is the pussy of a kitchen-maid. So what do you think is the inevitable consequence of this set of circumstances? You’re going to be our sex toy, tights slut. All night long. Every one of us is going to use you. Rape your mouth. Rape your arse. And you’ll lie back and take it. And you’ll take it whenever we want to use you. Because there’s nothing you can do to stop it. And don’t try telling anyone about it. Who the fuck do you think will believe your word against all of ours? And if we find out you have told anyone, then you’ll suffer even more…”

Will blanched in fear. The future stretched out before him. A nightmarish vision of night times spent servicing the sexual needs of all these frustrated young men. Suddenly the thought of being back home, starving with the goats in his hovel seemed a very alluring prospect. So why had Raymond’s speech, combined with the pressure of Jonah’s body on top of his, caused his cock to spring to a full erection?

The next few hours all passed by in a blur.

Too many hands, feet, faces, tongues.

His body was groped, his nipples squeezed. Youth after youth queued up to pull down the waistband of their tights and force their red, swollen pricks between his lips. He lost count of the times he was forced to gag on their man meat, pushing down into his throat.

His muscly legs, covered in the erotic silken tights, were spread and held down firmly. He felt tongues licking and lapping up the inside of his thighs.

His cock throbbed – and then nearly burst into eruption as he felt the soft wet touch of one of the boys lips upon it, tongue swirling round his tortured cock head, causing him to moan in frustrated ecstasy.

Suddenly, his face was being smothered. He couldn’t tell who it was but one of his fellow pages decided to sit on him, forcing Will to smell the ripe scent of the youth’s ass through the silky fabric of his tights. The tighted butt was ground relentlessly into Will’s face.

And whilst this was going on, Will felt a sensation at his own arse. The omnipresent butt plug was being withdrawn. But its remover was clearly in a frenzy of lust and had no thought of doing so with any care. Will was helpless as he felt the fine, delicate material of his tights being ripped by his abuser. The tear in his hose gave sufficient access to his asshole. He prepared himself for the onslaught of mancock that would surely follow.

But he was to be surprised. Instead, his ass was assailed in altogether gentler fashion. He felt the tip of a tongue flicker enticingly against his bumhole, darting in and out teasingly. And then, the ecstasy of penetration. The tongue probed deeper and deeper, licking, the teeth gently nibbling. If only there was still pressure on his cock, Will would surely have ejaculated there and then. But for now, his prick was left bobbing impotently. He whimpered miserably.

“Shut him up!” came a cry.

“Use the plug!” yelled another lad.

And sure enough, the big leather dong was passed from one to another and unceremoniously shoved between his lips to gag him. He had to gawp widely to allow its entrance. Will could taste the plug, still warm from being inside him, his ass juices coating the surface of the tortuous instrument.

Meanwhile, there was no let up to the assault on his body.

The tongue at his ass was now replaced by a cock, rammed hard and merciless up his boy-butt. His body bucked and convulsed as he was fucked. Simultaneously, the plug was removed and another cock was forced between his lips. He had no choice but to take it deep. And no matter how he writhed or struggled, his body was held fast by captors at each of his limbs, and by the weight of one or more pages sitting astride him.

Then a change of position as he was flipped onto his front. Hands encircled his waist and pulled his backside high in the air, whilst his face was buried in the bed. The fucking continued, and as one youth cried out in the fullness of a deep and long-lasting orgasm, he felt the cum flood inside him.

As one softening cock withdrew, Will felt another take its place.

And then a tongue flickered sensually in his left ear. Warm, heavy breathing, and then Raymond continued to taunt him in the merest whisper.

“You enjoying the attention, bitch boy? Being used like a stud. A piece of meat. Just a couple of holes for us to make us of. Your tights ripped. Your ass invaded. You’ll take all of the boys in here by the end of the night. You’ll be filled up with their cum. One way or another. Either down your mouth or up your ass. And you know what, slut? You enjoy it. You know you do. It’s all you’re good for. Just to take real men’s cocks. You’re no better than a spread-legged whore. A filthy slut that we could only find in the dirtiest alleys of the most depraved areas of the kingdom! You might writhe, and moan, and struggle, and protest. But that only turns us on all the more. It’s our pleasure to see you suffer. Your pretty pink lips. Your pretty pink ass. This is your destiny, slut. We’re going to breed you. Like a stud pony. Your whole purpose is to please us. Stick you away in the meat locker for the rest of the time, tied up, hanging there in your sticky, sweaty, ripped tights. Fetched out whenever we feel like it. And then left there the rest of the time. Our sweat and our cum drying on your body. With only the huge butt plug filling your ass for company…”

And with that, Will’s body was flipped again, so he was on his back, gazing up in pain and terror into the eyes of his latest rapist.

Raymond leant forward and grabbed Will’s cock. The mere touch had the desired effect, and in an instant, it jerked and erupted – pumping thick white boy cum in streaming arcs over his head. Almost as if this were a signal, the other servant boys surrounding the bed, took their cocks out of their tights and began pumping away. Most had already cum once this night, but the sight of the delectable Will, helpless, naked save for his tattered blue hose, sweaty, and writhing on the bed, drew yet more cum from the ensemble.

Ropes of white semen splattered onto Will’s prone body, splashing onto his torso and his legs, mingling with his and the others’ sweat, further to stain the blue of his hose.

The sound of his fellows’ laughter rang in his ears as the others gradually slunk away to their beds. “Fucking bitch…” “Nothing but a tights slut…” “Did you see? His cock stayed hard the whole time…”

Will just lay there, panting, exhausted, spent. With dismay, he felt a steady dribble of cum oozing from his asshole.

Raymond’s cooing voice returned. “Ah poor little bitch boy… Totally fucked and used up.” He tutted. “Mustn’t forget this now, must we? Where would our little tights slut be without his favourite toy up his bum?”

Will uttered a low moan, and a hissing fart escaped from his ass as Raymond retrieved the plug from the straw-strewn floor and pushed it back inside him.

And then, unexpectedly, he planted a gentle kiss on Will’s mouth. Will’s lips parted and he allowed Raymond’s tongue to slip between them, and swirled it round. Will responded, his boycock hardening in an instant.

“Sleep well, tights slut.”

And he did.

He woke up several hours later. Most of the other youths had already begun their working day. Will lifted his head and looked over to Raymond’s bed. Good. The older boy was still fast asleep. It had been quite a night for all of them.

Will found himself aching all over.

His arsehole was dry and sore from the multiple fucking he had received – and the ever-present butt plug was only adding to his discomfort. He ached all over and he stank of male sweat and cum. Dried patches of semen covered his upper body, and he looked down in dismay at his ruined tights. He gingerly got out of bed and realised the entire seat of his beautiful hose was ripped to shreds, leaving his pert bum gaping out of the material.

What was he to do? He was due to serve at Lord Geoffrey’s table this evening: the idea that he could do so in this state was unthinkable.

He realised he had only one choice: go to Master Yorick’s workshop, and beg him to provide him with some new blue tights. He had no doubt that the lecherous Yorick would extract a price from him, but he knew that would be infinitely preferable to the alternative should Alexander see him in this state.

Quickly, he pulled on his waistcoat and pumps, and tip-toeing past the sleeping Raymond, he made his way to Yorick’s workshop.

He’d been in the castle for well over a month now and was beginning to learn the back passageways and secret routes, so Will hurried down these in the hope he would pass none of the other servants.

Suddenly he heard footsteps coming towards him. He turned his back to the wall and stood still, hoping to shield his naked arse from view. His heart sank as the familiar, petite form of Jane, his sweetheart, turned the corner.

“Oh!” cried the girl. “You startled me!”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” mumbled Will. He stared at the ground, unable to look her in the eyes. Knowing that she had witnessed his first enema session – that most intimate and obscene of public humiliations.

Jane could clearly sense his embarrassment. “I think you’re very brave, Will. There aren’t many boys who could put up with what you’ve been subjected to every day since you arrived here.”

Will looked up at here with hope in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

She nodded eagerly. “I have to hurry, but, quick, kiss me.”

Will did not need to be asked twice. Their lips met, and Jane reached around his body to hold him closer. Too late! Her hand rested on his naked arse. She pulled it away in surprise.

“What - ?” she began.

Will went scarlet. “I had an accident,” he said helplessly.

“Turn round. Let me see how bad the damage is.”

Will turned his back to her.

“Oh dear,” she said. “Your tights are ruined!”

Will could only mumble his agreement, aware the girl was drinking in the sight of his naked bubble butt, framed in tattered hose: the large leather base of his butt plug protruding from between his pale ass cheeks.

“I have just come from Master Yorick’s workshop,” she told him. “He’s not there – off gossiping somewhere. If you hurry, you have time to slip in and find a new pair of tights. No one will be any the wiser!”

Will nodded, relieved that his aching body might be spared yet more sexual abuse.

The girl kissed him on his forehead. “Now – hurry! Before anyone else sees you and before Yorick comes back!”

Jane was right. The workshop was deserted. Will slipped in through the door, and made his way over to the various wooden chests where Yorick stored the castle’s various uniforms.

His senses whirled as he plunged his hands into the treasure trove of hosiery. There were tights of all colours, all sizes, all thicknesses: from coarse, woollen heavy tights for winter work in the outdoors, through to the shimmering, silken finery that encased the legs and nether regions of the various handsome and well-proportioned young men that Alexander had personally selected to serve Lord Geoffrey.

Will pulled out a pair of particularly gorgeous, pristine white tights. He buried his face into the fabric and smelt their newness. Quickly, he rolled down his own devastated hosiery, and stepped into them. The familiar erotic sensation of having his whole lower body sheathed in the kinkily sensuous fabric washed over him in waves, and his little cock pressed against the waistband: the tight material cutting his arsecrack in two.

He planted his feet wide apart and stuck his bottom out, imagining Alexander was caressing it, and toying with the plug lodged deep inside. He began to work his dick, rubbing it through the tights, and started to pinch his nipples, still sensitive from the attention they had received in the previous night’s gang rape.

All other thoughts disappeared from his mind, as the wonderful feeling of being enclosed in the silken tights possessed him. Slowly but surely, he approached ejaculation, and with what presence of mind he could muster, he slipped his cock out from within the tights so that his eruption would not soil the material.

He was just in time, as seconds later, he let out a low groan, as his cum spattered onto the stone floor of Yorick’s workroom.

A moment to recover himself, and then he regretfully pulled off the white tights, and began to search in the chest for a new blue pair that would best match his ravaged hose.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for. The hue was slightly lighter, and if anything, the size even smaller than his previous figure-hugging garment, but they would suffice. Jubilantly, he rolled his new tights up his muscular calves. Over his thighs, and he was just about to pull them up over his genitals and arse, when a sound made him look up sharply.

The wooden door to the workshop swang open. Will gasped guiltily as he stared directly into the face of the bald Yorick.

Yorick’s eyes opened wide. He looked at the page boy, frozen, with his tights halfway up his legs. Then his gaze wandered to the incriminating pile of cum, drying on the floor. He assumed a grim expression.

“Oh, you’re so fucked, boy…”

He got a spanking, of course.

He was tipped over Yorick’s lap, his head dangling and his arse, now enclosed within his new snugger blue tights vulnerable to the older man’s large, paddle-like hands. Will struggled a little as blows were rained over his arse and thighs, and he cried out when a particular heavy slap landed on him. Yorick seemed particularly keen to aim as many thwacks as possible on the inviting target of the butt plug. And each time he did, it sent a jolt right up the centre of Will’s body.

Every so often, he would squeeze Will’s bollocks hard through the blue hose, chuckling to himself. And again, the attention on his body, the humiliation of being put over another man’s lap for a spanking, and the rubbing of his bare chest and arms against the thick muscles of Yorick’s thighs through the silky sheen of his tights, caused Will to become aroused once more.

Finally, the spanking came to an end.

“You’re lucky I’m a busy man, or your punishment would be far more protracted,” Yorick growled, as he pushed Will from his lap to the floor. “But we don’t take kindly to thieves in the castle – especially ones that are clearly as perverted as you, little slut.”

Will tried to cover his erection with his hands, not wanting to provide Yorick with evidence that his words were all too true. But the devastatingly tight material showed all too clearly the outline of Will’s erect and throbbing penis.

“Now go and get yourself washed, bitch boy. You smell like a brothel. And be warned – you’ve not heard the last of this…”

The next week was a strange one for Will: a peculiar sensation: a kind of calm.

Yorick’s threat remained unfulfilled. Will presumed that he had either decided that the spanking he had inflicted on him was sufficient to punish Will for his transgression, or that in the whirl of Yorick’s daily tasks, his little bit of burglary had been forgotten about.

The other lads in the dormitory went back to ignoring him, apparently sated after their frenzy of lust. Will suspected that more than one of them was ashamed of what their sexual desires had led them to, and that they would rather not be reminded of the pleasures they had experienced in the use of his young boy flesh.

Raymond remained as impossible to work out as ever. He continued to bully and torment Will, and the morning enemas continued as per Alexander’s instructions. Yet something of the venom that he usually directed at Will seemed to have gone. And every so often, just when Will thought that Raymond genuinely regarded him as something lower than an insect, the older page boy would show a moment of tenderness towards him, and kiss his lips in a way that caused a welter of confusion to course through Will’s mind and body.

Of Jane he saw little or nothing. A kindly look or conspiratorial wink was all the two dared exchange as they flitted around the castle on their various duties.

Indeed, much of the talk of the castle was of war and turbulence abroad. There were rumours that the King would be taking an army across the seas. If that were to happen, Lord Geoffrey would undoubtedly be summoned to join him, and to provide men as part of the fighting force. And no one was eager for that to happen.

“Master Alexander wants to see you,” Raymond informed him that evening. “And I am to take you to him.”

Will gulped. It was the moment he had been dreading. Had Yorick gone and informed the Chief Steward of his moment of madness in the tights chest?

“Wh - why does he want to see me?” stammered Will.

Raymond regarded him smugly. “I imagine he’ll want some kind of progress report on your training. I didn’t think it fit to question Alexander’s motives. We’re to report to him at eight.”

Any hope that Alexander would be unaware of his misbehaviour vanished as soon as Will entered the familiar chamber. To one side of the room stood Master Yorick, his vast leg muscles encased in serviceable black tights. He had the look of an executioner, thought Will grimly.

Alexander himself looked more handsome and masculine than ever. Arrogance and power exuded from him like a scent. He was richly dressed as ever, in a black and silver padded doublet, and gorgeously fine, shimmering silver hose.

Will stood before his master, his stomach turning over, his hands clasped behind his back in a show of submission, his head bowed in disgrace. What was in store for him this time? Would he be evicted from the castle, and returned to a homeless, ruined and resentful family? Or would Alexander make good on his threat to punish young Jane for Will’s waywardness?

“You never learn, do you, boy?” Alexander’s powerful baritone began. “I have offered you every opportunity by taking you from your hovel, and allowing you to better yourself here in the castle. And yet at every turn, you are wilfully disobedient. I had hoped that Raymond here would be able to instil some respect into you, and, instead, I learn that you have now added theft and the destruction of castle property to your multitude of transgressions.”

Alexander reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a small leather pouch. Emptying it onto the table, he picked up and displayed its contents: the tattered remnants of Will’s blue hose.

“So, bitch. Would you care to tell me how your beautiful tights ended up in this condition?” And with that, Alexander flung them at Will’s face.

Will bit his lip, only too aware that Raymond was standing just behind him, listening intently to every word he said. He made his decision. Alexander was clearly going to punish him anyway, and his life wouldn’t be worth living if the other page boys discovered that he had revealed to the Chief Steward all the sordid details of their debauched orgy.

“I don’t know, Sir,” he mumbled.

“You don’t know…” Alexander repeated, with a dangerous edge to his voice. “You don’t recall how the arse of your tights ended up ripped to shreds?” He rose to his feet and strode across the room, and grasped Will’s cock and balls in one hand, squeezing and lifting the boy so that he was dancing on tiptoe.

“You’re a fucking liar, bitch.”

Will’s face creased in pain as Alexander’s grip grew even tighter.

“Do you still refuse to tell me?” he demanded.

“I can’t, Sir, please…” Will pleaded.

The Steward let him go. “Very well. But you know will suffer for this, don’t you, tights slut?”

Will nodded his head miserably. He turned to look over his shoulder to see Raymond smiling smugly, thoroughly enjoying every moment of his suffering.

“Young Raymond. You tell me. How did this sissy boy’s hose get to be destroyed?”

The dark-haired lad sighed theatrically. “I wish I knew, Sir. I fear there are no depths to which his depravity will sink.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “I gave this boy into your instruction, Raymond. Are you telling me you have been neglecting the task I issued you?”

Raymond’s cockiness faltered. “No, not at all, Sir…” he stammered.

“With rights come responsibilities, young Raymond. I hold you responsible for the behaviour of this bitch. And it seems to me you have failed me most spectacularly.”

The page boy’s lower lip began to tremble. “What could I do, Sir? He’s an animal, used to living his life in pig swill. How could I hope to instil any civilisation into him?!” Raymond’s voice began to sound slightly hysterical.

“Such weasel words ill become a young gentleman of your position, Raymond,” purred his Master. “And as neither of you will tell me the truth of how good Master Yorick’s fine handiwork was so shabbily treated, it seems I must needs find other methods of discerning who is to shoulder the blame.”

His words hung in the air of the richly furnished chamber. Yorick rubbed his hands together gleefully, whilst Alexander’s expression remained cool and unfathomable.

Alexander turned to Yorick. “Good Master Yorick, as it is you whose work has been insulted and whose floor has been defiled by this filthy creature, I would be most grateful if you were to assist me in the administration of the punishment.”

Yorick nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, you know me, Alexander. Only too happy to help.”

The Steward smiled. “Would you be so good as to send a servant to the kitchens and ask Mistress Olwen to send up my order?”

“Of course, Alexander.”

The stocky bald man hurried from the room, and Alexander turned his attention to the two nervous lads before him.

“Step forward, both of you,” he commanded.

Reluctantly the two page boys, one blond, one dark did as they were told.

“Now, take off your waistcoats, your belts and your pumps. I want you naked apart from your tights.”

The youths did as they were instructed, removing their clothing so that they stood bare-chested before their master, clad only in their sensuous hosiery.

“Now, follow me into my bedchamber.”

Raymond shot a look of fierce hatred at Will as they did so.

The room had undergone some slight transformation since Will had last been used and abused for the pleasure of his master.

Where once the only reflected surface had been the vast mirror above Alexander’s bed, Will now saw that the entire room was covered with looking glasses, so that wherever one stood within it, various images bounced and reflected around. As he gawped at the expense such furnishings must have cost, Will saw that in the centre of the room, where Alexander’s grand four poster bed had stood, there was a large wooden table. It stood about four feet off the ground, and the table top was a wide, circular platform. Although Will couldn’t immediately work out how it would be used, he knew that it would involve him being sexually humiliated. Also, given the time it would have taken to construct and to transform the bedchamber, he strongly suspected that Alexander must have been planning this particular little perversion for some considerable time. Hating himself for it, his cock gave an involuntary twitch at the thought.

“How pretty the two of you look,” drawled Alexander. “My two little bitch boys: one blond, one dark: one dressed in blue, the other in yellow. Oh I’m going to enjoy issuing retribution very much!”

He came up behind the lads, and simultaneously caressed their tighted butt cheeks, Will’s with his left hand, Raymond’s with his right.

“That plug still lodged nice and deep inside you, boy?” he asked Will. “Don’t you worry now, we’ll have something else to stick up there instead before too long!”

He let out a mirthless laugh. “Now, queer boys. Get up on that platform. I want you both on your hands and knees, arching your backs so your pretty little arses point up right in the air. I want you side by side, but facing opposite directions, so that your face,” he prodded Raymond in his arse crack, “is level with this one’s bottom. Do it. Now!”

The youths did not wait around. They clambered on top of the table, and assumed the positions Alexander had demanded of them. It was not as easy as it looked, as they discovered that the top of the platform was loose and rotated a little as they climbed onto it.

Will glanced to his right at the yellow tighted arse of his fellow slave boy and wondered what was in store for them. Whatever it was, the multi-mirrored walls would ensure there would be no avoidance of their ordeal. They each would see it all. Once again, Will found himself cursing the stiffness of his cock, sheathed in his silken blue hose.

There was a knock at the door of the bedchamber.

“Enter!” called Alexander.

The door opened and Yorick appeared, ushering a couple of serving girls. Will was surprised to see that they had brought in a massive silver platter, ladened with the fruits and sweet delicacies that it was his duty to serve to Lord Geoffrey every evening.

The platter was deposited on a table at the side of the room, the girls dismissed, leaving the two older men, and the two boys alone.

Will waited, already becoming rather uncomfortable in the crude position he had been forced to adopt.

Eventually Alexander deigned to give them an explanation. “I have devised a particularly cunning and rather excruciatingly delicious game of chance,” he declared. “To decide which of you will take the blame for these revolting misdemeanours, we are going to have a little contest. The loser will be punished, whereas the victor, because I am a kind and lenient master, will receive a delightful reward…”

“You see here the expensive sweets and desserts that Lord Geoffrey enjoys so much. You are, each in turn, going to be fed these exquisite fancies!”

Will gasped in delight. He would get to taste the delicious sugary treats! This did not sound like such a terrible punishment after all!

“Quite simply, the winner will be whichever one of you manages to consume the most!”

Better and better, thought Will. He felt as if he had spent his whole life half famished! He was sure he could eat more than the pampered Raymond who had surely never known starvation.

“You can wipe that simpleton smile off your face, bitch,” Alexander admonished him. “You won’t be eating these goods in the conventional way. Every last one of them will be going up your tight little boy-arses!”

Will gulped. The shame was too much to bear. The idea of his boy butt being stuffed with all that delicious food was too humiliating. To be filled up from the wrong end! He could never have imagined such a forbidden and devastatingly perverted thing happening to him.

Alexander began to explain the rules of his kinky game.

“Once the contest begins, I will select which of the items from the dessert plate will be inserted into my victim. As you have noticed, I have positioned my two slave sluts on a turntable. Yorick here will spin the table, and wherever it comes to rest, whichever of your two devastatingly inviting arses lands nearest to my plate of goodies will determine who will be filled up. Once that item has all gone, it will be your task to keep it inside you.

“I will then choose another delicacy, the table will be spun again, and we will continue in this fashion until all the food has vanished up your two bottoms. Your tights will then be pulled up to cover your backsides. Your task will be to try and retain what you have taken up you for as long as possible. The first one to lose control of his bowels and soil himself will lose the game.

“Now, are the rules clear, slave boys?”

Will and Raymond nodded their assent nervously. “Yes, Sir.” “Perfectly clear.”

“Good. Oh and I think we’ll have a generous supply of my magic potion to hand, to assist your arses to be as capacious as possible.

“One last thing. Yorick, would you be so kind as to remove the butt plug from the blue bitch’s arse? I feel that leaving it there would place him at somewhat of a disadvantage.”

The mirrored walls meant that Will had a perfect view of the leering grin on Master Yorick’s face as the older man gently slid his blue tights over the pert roundness of his bum. And he grimaced as he watched and felt the big plug being withdrawn from his rectum, knowing that the relief of having an empty anal cavity would not last very long.

“Excellent.” Alexander in turn peeled down the waist of Raymond’s yellow hose to expose the boy’s pale backside. He slid his long middle finger down the lad’s arse crack, causing him to whimper. “Hmmm… sweating already, boy. That’s good. You’re going to need as much lubrication as possible to take all I have in store for you.”

Will looked at Raymond’s face reflected in the mirror. It was deathly white. Will suspected that his enemy’s arse had not seen a fraction of the action that his had undergone in the mere couple of months he had been at the castle. Maybe he was even a virgin still. Good, thought Will. After all I’ve suffered, see how you like it!

“Now, let me see,” mused Alexander. “How to begin.” His eyes ranged across the heaving platter. “Let us start gently. How do you boys like grapes?”

He grabbed a bunch of green and red grapes from a plate, and selected one, which he popped in his mouth. “Mmm. Very juicy. Nearly as juicy as your arses, in fact. Now, let us spin the wheel and see where Lady Luck decides to land…”

Yorick needed no further encouragement, and he employed his considerable upper body strength to heave the table on its first spin. Both page boys nearly lost their balance as the momentum swang them around. Each managed to right himself, however, Raymond squeezing his eyes shut in the hope he would stave off the inevitable giddiness, whilst Will gawped at the welter of images that assailed him from the many reflections bouncing all around him.

After several revolutions, the whirling table top eventually ground to a halt. Will, his head still spinning, looked up into the devilish good looks of Alexander’s countenance. Success! If he was facing Alexander, then that meant…

“It seems the yellow bitch is to be the first lucky recipient of Lord Geoffrey’s bounty,” drawled the Steward.

Raymond opened his eyes miserably as his fate dawned on him. “Please, Sir…” he mumbled. “Please don’t fill my arse with grapes!”

“Silence, bitch, and take your punishment like a man!”

Will watched as Alexander scooped a handful of whipped cream from a bowl on the platter.

“Observe the kindness of your master! I’m not even going to force you to take them dry!”

And with that, he began to work the cream along Raymond’s slightly fuzzy butt crack, sliding his greasy fingers in and out of his hole in anticipation of what would soon follow. Raymond gasped in shock as the coldness of the cream made contact with his sweating arse.

“That should do I think… Now, there are ten… twelve… fifteen of these little grapes to go up your butt, boy. And you will count them as they go in, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” whimpered Raymond pitifully. “I understand.”

“Good. In we go.”

Will had a prime view as Alexander inserted the first grape into Raymond’s hole. Small as it was, it popped inside him with ease, and the boy’s asslips closed behind it as if nothing had even happened.

“One… Sir…” Raymond stammered.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” chuckled the Steward. He reached around to squeeze the boy’s tighted crotch. “Ah, but I see your cock is… How fascinating!”

Alexander continued to stuff grapes into Raymond’s yielding orifice. Two… three… four… five…

“Oh these are slipping up you very nicely, bitch. Your hole must have been very hungry. Let me see how full you’re feeling…”

Alexander inserted his finger into the hole, and prodded the grapes further up the slave boy’s rectum. “Ah, good. There’s plenty more room yet.” He chuckled ominously. “There will need to be…”

In no time at all, the final grape had vanished from sight.

“Clever slut,” congratulated Alexander. “A fine start. Now you squeeze your hole tight and keep those grapes deep inside you. Maybe if we leave them inside you for long enough, they will mature into a fine wine. Imagine that – Vin de Raymond. Freshly squeezed from the bowels of a slutty little slave boy…”

Raymond shifted uncomfortably as Alexander spoke.

“And you did not even need to be given some of my special potion. However, I think as our desserts become a little more exotic, you will be welcome of the assistance it affords in relaxing your anus!”

Alexander idly rubbed at his cock through the silver sheen of his hose. Will realised just how much enjoyment Alexander was deriving from this entertaining little game. All his fury at the boys’ behaviour seemed to have disappeared. In a startling moment of clarity, Will wondered how much of Alexander’s strict and severe demeanour was an act: a role to be played depending on the situation and the nature and personality of whichever slave currently happened to be at his mercy.

Will did not have the time to ponder his theory any further, however. Yorick was preparing to spin the table top for a second time. Round and round the boys whizzed. This time, when the platform settled, neither boy’s arse was directly in front of Alexander, but Will realised, with resignation, that his bare buttocks were undoubtedly nearer to the Steward and his table of delights.

“And so to the turn of the blue bitch… And what shall we feed your hole, boy? Do you have a sweet tooth, I wonder? I’ve seen how enviously you eye the chocolate covered candies that you serve to Lord Geoffrey. Maybe it’s time you tasted their sticky sweetness! I have just the thing.”

Alexander selected a bowl from the platter, containing several chocolate eggs – only slightly smaller than the ones produced by the chickens in the yard on Gyles’ farm.

“Quite ingenious, wouldn’t you agree, Yorick?” mused the Steward, biting off the tip of one of the eggs and dipping his finger inside. “Within the chocolate shell, is a white and yellow fondant designed to resemble the contents of a hen’s egg.”

He walked around the table and prodded his gooey finger between Will’s slightly parted lips. “Lick it, slut,” he instructed. “A taste of what your arse will soon be experiencing.”

Will sucked on his master’s long finger. The fondant was sugary and delicious. If only he could consume the chocolate in the conventional fashion…

“I wonder how many I should make you take. The whole bowl, do you think?”

Will shook his head anxiously. “Please, Sir” –

“Perhaps you have a point. They are considerably larger than grapes, are they not? And we want the competition to be fair, now, don’t we?”

In spite of feigning innocence, Alexander had clearly prepared for this eventuality, and he drew a couple of gamblers’ dice from the pouch at his belt.

“We will allow fate to determine the precise number of eggs you will take.”

The dice tumbled onto the table top. One rested on the number two, whilst the other settled with a ‘four’ facing upwards.

“The blue bitch will have no less than six chocolate eggs forced up his asshole!”

“Oh, what delicious sport this is,” Yorick enthused.

“Perhaps you could stand by with the vial of potion,” suggested Alexander. “I have a feeling the slut might need some assistance.”

Just as Raymond had before him, Will felt his hole being coated liberally with cream. And then the heady aroma of the witch’s potion assailed his senses. Yorick held his head firm so that he could not help but inhale.

“Breathe deeply, bitch,” he ordered him. “Nice and deeply now.”

Will’s head span with giddiness both from the turning of the wooden platform, and from the intoxicating potion. His cock felt huge and engorged, snug in his hose, and he was acutely aware of his pulsing ass muscles as the inevitable pressure arrived at his backside. His sphincter resisted at first, but the force Alexander applied was relentless and before long the tip of the chocolate egg made its way past the barrier.

Will gasped at the sensation. The egg grew wider, stretching his hole as it went. He continued to breathe deeply, the potion flooding over him in waves. And then it was over, as the rounded end of the egg disappeared up into him, and his pussy lips closed around it, sealing it within.

“What do you say, boy?”

“One, Sir,”

“Good slut. Ready for the next one?”

The second egg was pushed in more quickly, and was followed in rapid succession by the third and the fourth.

Will felt the odd sensation of his anus being gradually filled up, the solid eggs jostling just inside him.

“Five,” he grunted, as the next one invaded his hole.

The potion was withdrawn, as Yorick reached for Will’s boycock and tweaked its tip. Finally, Alexander forced the sixth and last confectionary into his bottom.

“And now, we leave them to melt inside you…” he said. “Or maybe we should give them a little assistance…”

With that, he slipped his middle finger into Will’s arse and pushed the chocolate eggs further up his back passage. Will grunted as they were forced against the tender nub of his prostate. And still Alexander continued to apply pressure. “Nearly there,” he whispered, as he worked his finger back and forth until, suddenly, he felt the chocolate shell of the sixth egg crack, releasing its gooey contents into Will’s rectum. Soon the other eggs, having had longer to melt inside Will’s body also gave way. Alexander swirled his finger round inside the boy’s arse, churning and mixing the chocolate and fondant into a warm goo.

Will groaned at the intimate and obscene nature of the invasion. A bead of precum appeared at his cock and dampened his new blue tights. And then Alexander’s finger was in his mouth, forcing him to lick the chocolatey gunk.

“That’s right, sissy boy. You know exactly where my finger’s just been don’t you? Probing the dark recesses of your chocolatey arsehole. Lick it clean now, nice and clean.”

Will did as he was told, although his stomach churned at the thought that the sweet goo he was forced to swallow had come warm and direct from his arse.

“You disgusting little slut. Maybe I should ensure that you only ever eat food that has been first shoved inside your bum. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you depraved little shit?”

“No, Sir, please…” Will mumbled in reply.

Alexander snorted. “We shall see…”

He turned to the table. “Now for round three. What next, I wonder?” He reached between Will’s legs and grabbed his balls through the material of his tights. “How about some nice, big, juicy plums?”

The table top span again.

Will caught sight of Raymond’s distinctly queasy face in the mirrors. From the look of him, it seemed likely that he might vomit before the game ended.

Will was acutely aware of the fullness in his backside. He’d become very used to having it filled, and as yet he wasn’t struggling to keep the chocolatey deposit safe inside him. He cursed his bad luck, however, as the table-top slowed and he realised that once again his arse would be the recipient of Mistress Olwen’s handiwork.

“Oh dear,” mused Alexander. “The Gods are not on your side today, are they, bitch? And these plums are large: over three inches in diameter I should say.”

Will could only nod in dumb agreement. His asshole would need to stretch wide open to accommodate the dark purple fruit.

“So what we’re all dying to know, boy, is exactly how many you will have to suck up your chute!”

Will was relieved to see that this time Alexander only used one die instead of two to determine how many plums he would have be required to swallow.

“Three! A fair number, I should say, given the size of these beauties. Will you stand by with the potion, Yorick? The bitch will need to breathe very deeply for these to enter successfully…”

Another hit of potion, and Will felt his arse cheeks being spread apart, pulled firmly to facilitate the intrusion of the large plums. Alexander coated one of them liberally with cream and positioned it against his puckered hole. Will could see it nestling there in the mirrored reflection – massive and wide.

“Please, Sir,” he whimpered. “It’s too big…”

“Shut the fuck up, slut. Whilst I’m your master nothing is too big. You’re going to take it all.”

Alexander began to push. This time the invasion was brutal: no gradual widening of the foreign object, as was the case with the chocolate egg or his butt plug. The plum was instantly forcing his ass wide.

“Ah… ah… ah…” he gasped.

“A beautiful sight, boy, to see your slutty hole stretching to accommodate the plum.”

Will desperately inhaled the potion, and indeed, its vapours did seem to relax his sphincter somewhat. He concentrated every effort on trying to take the plum up him. Alexander’s pressure was relentless, and finally, with a squelching sound, he saw the curve of the plum disappear inside him, and his red asshole snap back into place behind it.

The sensation of his arse being stretched beyond endurance was replaced by the fullness of the plum lying hard and heavy inside his bum. His head swam from the potion, but he was to be allowed no respite, as he felt his arse once again being assailed.

“It will be easier now your arse has been stretched,” observed Alexander. And this did prove to be the case. The second plum dutifully entered him with relative ease.

“How are you feeling, slut? Full yet?”

“Yes, Sir. I am.”

“Well you’re going to have to work those muscles for a while longer yet. If you let any of your arse’s contents out, you’ll have lost the contest. And you really don’t want that to happen, now, do you?”

Will could feel the plums jostling just inside his ring. As yet he did not feel any urgency to push them out, but he knew he was only going to get fuller as time went on.

“Just one more plum, now,” cooed Alexander. And the final fruit was pressed to his puckered opening. “Open wide now.”

Will tried, really tried to force his arse to open yet another time, but the plums already within him were exerting a terrible pressure from the inside of his anus. No matter how much he breathed and tried to relax, his unco-operative sphincter remained stubbornly shut.

“No use resisting, boy,” grunted Alexander, as with one shove, he forced the final plum up the boy’s reluctant pussy.

“Aaaaaargh!” Will screamed as he was penetrated once more. Something inside him gave way, and he felt the chocolate and fruit already in him pushed further up his passage.

He panted desperately, his body convulsing in shock at the ferocity of the invasion.

“Mmmm, nice,” murmured his master. “Do you know how much it turns me on to hear you scream like that? I’m guessing you’re feeling pretty damn full by now. You’d better hope it’s not your turn again next…”

Will shivered in spite of the heat in the room, as his body adjusted to its latest aggressor.

“Better pull his tights back up for now, Yorick. It might encourage him to hold on longer…”

Unceremoniously, Will’s hose were pulled up, the silken material disappearing as usual and resting in the crack of his sore arse.

“Round we go again!”

Spinning, spinning, spinning…

“Now I have two, thick, firm bananas ready to go up one of you lucky boy’s cunts. Which of you will it be, I wonder?”

Eventually, the table top came to its rest,

Will glanced across at Alexander and the table of desserts. It was the closest call yet, but Will sighed with relief to see that Raymond’s arse was fractionally nearer to the Steward’s eager hands and pulsing, tighted cock.

Alexander made a great deal of considering who had lost this particular round of his perverted game. “What do you think, Yorick? Is it the blue or the yellow?”

Raymond – who had resigned himself to being the recipient of the phallic fruit – perked up, hopefully.

“It is indeed a close call, Master Alexander,” replied Yorick. “But I do believe it is young Raymond’s turn to have his young bottom stuffed…”

“No, please. Please, no…” the boy gibbered.

“Silence, slut!” Alexander snapped. “Perhaps you are right.” He began to peel the first banana and made his way up to Raymond’s butt. “Your arse must feel positively roomy with only that small handful of grapes inside. You should have no trouble in taking this. We should be grateful that the banana is such a convenient design. A fruit in the shape of a cock. And here we have a delightfully long one at that. It may not have the girth of the plum, but it more than makes up for it in length!”

More frothy cream was applied to the tip of the peeled banana and Will was able to watch the pale yellow fruit begin to disappear inside Raymond’s peachy behind.

“Oh, oh, oh,” the other boy gasped as he was raped by the banana’s flesh. Alexander teased him by withdrawing the fruit slightly, and then slowly inserted the entire length of it.

Alexander began to rub Raymond’s cock through his hose. “A yellow banana for my yellow tights bitch. How does that feel, boy? Having a big old banana shoved deep inside your slutty cunt?”

Will saw Raymond’s face crumple. Is he going to cry, he wondered.

“Answer me, boy!”

“It feels – humiliating. Degrading. To be used like this,” whimpered Raymond. “My bum being stuffed first with grapes and then a banana.”

“Good. As it should be. And now, we have its twin, ready to join the first.”

Alexander began to unpeel the remaining fruit. Suddenly he paused.

“And yet… I can’t help feel that this banana is so fine and straight and firm, it would be a shame for our blue bitch not to experience it. And the table did rest at roughly the halfway point, after all…”

“Please, Sir!” Will exclaimed, without thinking. “That’s not fair!”

Alexander strode over to the lad, and grabbed the top of his hair. “Don’t you dare presume to tell me what to do, bitch. Haven’t you learned, yet? Life here in the castle isn’t fair! And boy, you’ve sealed your fate now. You’ll take this banana up your arsehole, and you’ll take it all!”

Will wasn’t sure he could even try, but as soon as the fruit began to be pushed into him, he realised his body had somehow managed to suck the heavy plums further inside him, so that there was now some space to accommodate the entry of the banana. Will breathed deeply as he felt the fruit sliding smoothly up his arse. Only right at the end did the banana meet any resistance, and Will felt the last inch or so break off as his arse closed around the bulk of the fruit.

Alexander moved to Will’s other end and smeared the gunky banana over the boy’s cheeks and then pushed it into his mouth.

“I said you’d swallow it all. I suppose this end of you will do as well, bitch…”

Will gulped down the sweet tasting fruit. He glanced down, and saw his belly swollen – filled as it now was with the chocolate fondant, the plums and now the big banana.

“Good, boys. I had every confidence you could do it! And I’ve always been fond of baked banana. I look forward to the reappearance of the bananas once they’ve been heated to a melted, gunky mush by your respective guts! Which one will be released first, I wonder?”

Will squeezed his arse hole tight. He was determined to beat Raymond even though his backside must now be packed with at least twice the volume that had been deposited inside his rival’s anal cavity.

Alexander turned to the silver platter. “What a pity… it seems that all too soon our entertaining little game must draw to a close. Still, I have saved the best till last.”

With a flourish, he produced a large bowl full of fluffy, pink marshmallows.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Yorick,” he admonished. “They may not have the length of a banana or the girth of a plum, but they are a devilish addition to our contest. And this is why: the combination of sugar and gelatine is a fatal one! The mixture will irritate the arse lining of our victims very quickly, and will have the effect of a laxative. The arse will desperately want to expel the mallows, and the effort of trying to keep them inside will be most excruciating for one of these poor young sluts!”

Will gulped. Wherever the table landed on this turn looked very likely to decide who would win and who would lose Alexander’s kinky game.

Raymond seemed to be having the same thought, and was shifting his body weight awkwardly as his stomach growled and grumbled in protest at its cargo.

“Here we go! One last time!” declared Yorick.

Will was having to breathe deeply and heavily now, maintaining every ounce of concentration to ensure that his body did not rebel against his wishes, crying out as it was to be allowed to release the accumulated foodstuffs that had been forced inside him. As the wheel began to slow, a sharp cramp in his stomach nearly propelled the tightly packed food inside him into his hose. Will screwed up his eyes and squeezed his hole tighter than he could have imagined possible. He panted and sweated with the effort, but somehow, miraculously he managed not to leak any of his precious cargo.

Finally he opened his eyes. He groaned inwardly. He looked up into Yorick’s leering face: his bum, still pointed toward the sky, resting perfectly conveniently next to Alexander and the waiting bowl of marshmallows.

Alexander tutted. “Your hole really is the greediest I’ve ever known, boy. You can’t get enough, can you?”

The potion was forced back under his nose, causing his senses to swim. What if the other boys in the village could see him now, he wondered. Forced onto all fours like a dog, naked apart from his figure-hugging skin tight hosiery which clung to every curve of his young body: encasing his feet, his muscular calves and thighs, the hard firmness of his cock and balls, and the round peaches of his arse. And added to that, a bulging stomach also covered by the waistband of the tights. His most intimate opening had been violated in the most humiliating of ways merely for Alexander’s amusement: with the sweets and delicacies of the dessert tray mercilessly inserted into his backside. His stomach muscles cramped and protested as he felt the waist of his tights lowered for yet new torture to begin.

It wasn’t large, and given the stretching his arse had had over the past couple of months, it was no surprise that the marshmallow popped inside him with ease. Alexander’s fingers followed it, pushing it in deeper, and impacting the larder-worth of food already inside him still deeper. And damn it, the devilish potion was working its evil magic on him once more, his cock rock hard and hornier than ever. A second mallow, a third. The sweets came hard and fast so that soon Alexander was pushing in two or three at a time. Will felt them jostling inside him, almost as if they were sentient and all pushing for space inside their cramped new home.

Alexander paused as Will grunted and groaned as he yet again was forced to resist the urge to empty his bowels. But as soon as the wave passed, he began again, pushing the sugary confectionaries, one after another up the poor little page boy.

“It’s feeling very full in there now, bitch,” taunted the older man. “I’m struggling even to fit these last few marshmallows in.” He tugged at the boy’s asslips, and slid in another sweet. “You’d better take them all, though. If you fail to fit them inside you, then you lose automatically.”

Will gritted his teeth. He was fearful of what Alexander’s punishment would be were he to lose the contest, and, besides, he desperately wanted to see the smug look of superiority wiped from Raymond’s pretty face in the eventuality that he would be beaten.

“Last one!” declared Alexander. The final mallow was pushed in, and Will could see in the mirror that it was stuck there, a pink, foamy blob protruding from his bottom, unable to make it inside.

“Come along now! It has to go all the way in.”

It was only the Steward’s skilful manipulation of Will’s sphincter that permitted the final recalcitrant sweetmeat to join its fellows in the young lad’s anal cavity.

“Congratulations! You have a talented hole, slut. We must think of further uses for it…”

Alexander licked his lips lasciviously as he rolled Will’s blue hose back up to cover his bum, so that both he and Raymond’s arses were once again encased in the silken garment. “Now, boys. Down you get. You must be stiff and sore from kneeling on the wooden table top all this time…” His knowing expression made it clear that he was all too aware that it was not merely their bodies that were stiff and their knees that were sore.

Raymond and Will moved carefully as they clambered down from the turntable: each dreadfully aware that any sudden movements could provoke an abrupt and unwanted spasm that could see them losing both control of their bowels and the competition.

“Over here!” Alexander guided them to an old and stained rug that had been laid on the floor. “Now – maybe we should see you dance for us. What do you think of that, Master Yorick? Would that amuse you at all? Perhaps something particularly slutty!”

The two pageboys stood trembling before their masters. Alexander’s description of the effect the marshmallows would have on Will’s arse was proving all too accurate. His sphincter quivered and his guts screamed out to him to expel their contents. Will’s sole consolation was that Raymond seemed to be having a similar dilemma in hanging onto his arse’s cargo.

“Stick your bums out, sluts!” ordered Alexander. “Rotate them as if you were common whores. Do your best to excite Master Yorick and me. Perhaps we will be kind if you succeed.”

Both boys, stomachs bulging, began to obey. Will felt ridiculous and humiliated, being turned into a mere erotic object for these two voyeurs. He blushed and cast his eyes to the floor as he ground his arse against the air, in the way he had when Alexander had first fucked him in this very room.

“Play with yourselves! I want to see your hands all over your tights, stroking, caressing them!”

Raymond obliged instantly, lightly sliding his hands over the shiny material of his yellow hose. More hesitantly, Will followed, unused and embarrassed to such lascivious exhibitionism.

“You must both be feeling very full, now. Are you getting close to release? Is the desperation to shit driving you crazy? You must hold on. As long as you can! Remember, the consequences for the loser will be most terrible. And yet lose one of you must. And it will happen soon. Soon one of you will lose control. You can’t hang on forever to the quantity of food that I’ve shoved into you!”

Suddenly Raymond cried out in a mixture of agony and arousal.

Will’s heart leaped. Was that it? Had he won?

In that instant, the biggest cramp yet hit him, and he knew this time he couldn’t control it.

Sure enough, like a dam bursting, his tortured arselips parted, and a flood of food gushed out of him. He dropped to his knees with the intensity of the experience; a low, animalistic, guttural cry emitting from his mouth, just as a thunderous farting sound came from his other end. The wet gungey mess emptied into his clinging tights, and he gasped in pain as the three fat plums shot out of him, one after another, in quick succession.

He felt a terrible mixture of relief finally to be dumping his awful load, and utter shame. Even now, he could not be rid of the obscene and humiliating mess, for his hose kept it all pressed tight against his body. He felt the sensation of his arse’s contents collecting in the garment’s gusset. He looked at his reflection, only to see the blue pristineness of his tights marred by the brown, chocolatey stain blossoming and spreading over his arse cheeks: lumps of banana and marshmallow lodged in the cracks of his arse. The large plums rested heavily by his bollocks.

He panted from the effort. He squirmed in distaste as he felt melted chocolate trickle down his inner thighs, dribbling down the length of his tights and puddling at his knees. His tights sagged slightly as the weight of the gunky mess caused the arse of his hose to bulge. The gunge felt warm and wet and sticky. He uttered a little sob of helplessness and disgust.

“You disgusting little slut,” said Alexander, rubbing energetically at his cock, clearly intensely aroused by the sight of the boy, devastated and spent in his ruined tights. “You’ve filled your hose with all that filthy gooey gunk, and now it’s just lying there, enclosed next to your skin, cooling in the fresh air.”

He turned to his associate. “Yorick, will you check the yellow bitch’s arse?”

“Gladly, Alexander.”

The stocky fellow prodded Raymond’s hole through the stretchy yellow fabric. “He’s clean. No leakage yet,” he reported.

Will felt like sobbing with despair. What awful torture awaited him now?

Raymond’s grin was triumphant even as he held one hand to his stomach, seeking to calm its turbulence.

“It seems we have our victor,” said Alexander. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Yorick nodded eagerly, leering at Will. “And our loser,” he added.

Will remained on all fours, his tights sodden and uncomfortable. His arse empty at long last.

“So now it is time to deal out the punishment – and the reward!” declared Alexander.

“A reward?” Raymond repeated, his eyes widening.

“Oh yes. To have undergone such a trial and beaten your fellow slave so decisively deserves a reward, don’t you think, Yorick?”

The hose-maker barely had time to reply.

“And yet,” Alexander continued. “I have always prided myself on being a fair man, and it seems clear to me that this little slut here was forced to take far more food up his boy pussy than did the other one. I wonder if the contest was truly equal.”

“Your integrity does you credit, Master Alexander,” said Yorick, without a trace of irony.

In his exhausted and demoralised state, Will nevertheless experienced a flicker of hope. He watched Raymond’s face fall into stunned incredulity.

“Thank you, Yorick. Yes, the more I consider the matter, the more it seems to me that we should have a final round in our little contest. And I have an idea to determine which of these page boys will be declared the ultimate winner.”

Alexander glanced pointedly at both Will’s and Raymond’s bulging crotches.

“I suggest we milk them, Yorick. Thus shall we discover which of them possesses greater self-control. The one who cums first will be declared the loser and will be duly punished.”

“Superb! Simply superb!” Yorick was practically salivating in anticipation.

“And let us continue to allow chance to decide which of us will masturbate which slave…”

Alexander produced a coin. It whirled in the air before landing at his feet. “You will take the yellow bitch. And I shall yank this filthy little bird’s pathetic boycock.”

Raymond was clearly suppressing his indignation that victory in Alexander’s kinky game might yet be snatched from him, but he knew better than to challenge his master. Will dared to nurture a small piece of hope: could it be that, secretly, Alexander wanted him to win?

“Lie on your backs!” came the instruction.

Both boys did as they were bidden. Their naked torsos rested on the rugs, their stockinged legs bent so that the soles of their feet lay flat on the floor.

Alexander and Yorick knelt beside the two of them. Raymond groaned as a stomach cramp hit him. There was no longer any reason why Raymond should not empty his bowels of the fruit salad nestling within. But Will thought he knew enough of Raymond’s character by now to know that his pride and arrogance would mean he would not want to lie there and soil himself, especially not in front of Will. Will’s spirits rose yet further. His rival would therefore have to focus on keeping his arse clenched tight and fending off orgasm.

“Let us begin,” said Alexander, with a devilish smile playing around his lips.

He reached into Will’s sticky hose and grabbed the boy’s cock. It pulsed instantly, and Will immediately began to try and conjure the most unappealing images that he could. The fat, gap-toothed Mistress Olwen, old Dirk, the village bumpkin, cows, goats, pigs… anything that might cause his dick to soften.

But of course Alexander was having none of that, as he expertly tweaked and manipulated the lad’s thickening member.

“Does that feel good, boy?” he murmured. “You like the feeling of me rubbing that chocolate all over your sissy little prick?”

Will whimpered slightly.

“What a little slut you are, getting turned on like this. I’ve made you take a dump in your tights, and all that mess is still lying there. You filthy little bitch, humiliated in your own gunge. Do you know what a fucking disgusting state you look right now? Bits of banana clinging to your arse, your bumcheeks covered in melted chocolate. Marshmallows clogging up your hose. And your poor violated arse finally emptied. Maybe we should do something to rectify that…”

Will groaned as he felt his overused anus stretching once again, as Alexander started to pop the melting marshmallows back inside him.

“How do they taste I wonder?” he asked, as with one hand he continued to wank the boy’s rock hard dick, with the other he took a chocolatey marshmallow from the seat of his sopping tights and pushed it into Will’s mouth.

“Swallow it, bitch.”

Will gagged slightly as he did so at the thought of where the candy had so recently resided, but even that wasn’t enough to lessen the arousal at his groin. Alexander was simply too skilled at masturbation, he lamented.

“How is your bitch doing?” the Steward asked.

“He’s struggling a little but I think he’s enjoying it,” replied Yorick. “I hope he’s not enjoying it too much for his sake!”

Alexander turned his attention back to Will. “Are you getting close, boy? Remember, you need to stave off your orgasm or it will go hard for you…” He chuckled at his pun. “Maybe we need one of those big old plums to revisit its cosy former home. And let’s give you some potion first.”

Will had been dreading the potion. The damn stuff made him so horny, it would be ten times harder not to cum, he feared. And it had been a whole week since his masturbatory transgression in Yorick’s workshop. He was desperate to orgasm again. He just hoped that he could delay the moment longer than Raymond could.

The now familiar, heady aroma. The rush to his head, the slowing of his heart beat. That animal effect that just made him want to grind his crotch against something, to have his arse penetrated. He got his wish as he felt the thick roundness of the plum pushing against his hole. Not again, he thought. He couldn’t take that big fat fruit up his backside another time, surely…

“Up it goes, bitch… That plum’s going where the sun doesn’t shine. Shoved right up your horny little chute. Look at you in your mucky tights! Degraded. Humiliated. Excited. Me wanking off your chocolatey cock. And that plum deep up your boy butt…”

Will’s anus stretched, stretched, stretched - and in the plum went.

“Ugggggh!” he grunted, as the combination of the painful insertion, the effect of the potion and Alexander’s firm rubbing of his prick combined in one heady and fateful hit.

He tried to stop it but it was too late. The sensations had built and there was no going back. The only possible outcome was to release them.

“There we go, boy,” cooed Alexander as he milked his slave boy’s meat. Thick white cum spewed into the boy’s tights, mixing and mingling with the melted chocolate fondant.

“Ah – ah – ah…” the lad gasped as Alexander continued to yank expertly at his throbbing organ.

With his other hand, Alexander freed his own massive member and ejaculated silently over Will’s crotch: both man and boy’s cum mingling in a steaming pool of white liquid. Alexander let out a shuddering breath. He looked over to see Yorick successfully wanking off his charge, and Raymond filling his yellow tights with cum, as the melted mush of the banana slid out of his bum and into the seat of his hose.

Alexander wiped his hands clean on Will’s smooth and sweaty chest. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” he muttered. “If only you could have held out for a few moments’ longer. But it was not to be. I gave you a second chance, bitch, and you blew it. Now you’re going to have to suffer the consequences…”

“Such is your peasant depravity, I can see that nothing less than my personal attention will be sufficient to discipline you. We shall begin a weekly training session in the castle dungeons where I shall oversee your progress.”

Will nodded miserably, well able to imagine how Alexander’s training programme would pan out.

“As for you, young Raymond. I have a great honour to bestow to you. Clearly you have great things ahead of you, and it seems only right that you should begin a career path that, if you are hard-working and fortunate, may see you achieve the post of Chief Steward yourself one day.”

Will smarted to see Raymond’s smug sneer. He truly did look like the cat that got the cream, lapping up Alexander’s praise greedily.

“With this in mind, I am promoting you to a more senior position. As of this evening, you will serve as the personal steward of Sir Wilfrid.”

The effect on the dark-haired youth was instantaneous. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, stunned. Yet it was very clear that this was not a happy or a welcome surprise.

“Oh, Sir,” Raymond gibbered. “Please, no, please not Sir Wilfrid. I’ll do anything” –

“Hush, hush, now,” said Alexander. “I want no false modesty. You may feel that you are not personally worthy to wait on his illustrious personage, but I have every confidence that he will find you most satisfactory.”

“Please, Sir. I’ll scrub pots, I’ll clean out the stables” –

But once again Alexander interrupted him. “No more of this now. Yorick will you take young Raymond away, clean him up, and dress him in a uniform befitting his new elevated station. Particoloured hose perhaps? I believe Sir Wilfrid is very fond of purple.”

Raymond bit his lip, but nevertheless a big tear welled up in his eye and rolled down his smooth cheek.

“And you have no need to thank me, young man,” said Alexander blithely. “Your obvious strong emotion speaks volumes. Off you go, now. And good luck in your new role.”

Yorick grabbed Raymond by the arms and practically had to carry the distressed youth from the room. Will heard his fellow page’s pleas echoing and fading into the distance.

Alexander turned to regard Will, the faintest twinkle in his eye. “Are you still here, bitch? I suggest you go and get yourself and your tights cleaned up. I expect them to look as good as new when I see you serve Lord Geoffrey at dinner tomorrow…”

Will had staggered back to his bed in the dormitory via the well in the courtyard. He had encountered some sniggers and amused looks from various servants as he went, to see him dishevelled and smeared in sugary food. Then again, thought Will miserably to himself, the sight of him humiliated in some way was becoming an all too common occurrence in the castle.

He awoke exhausted the following morning strangely exhilarated. Whether by accident or design, Alexander had neglected to plug his arse again at the end of their lengthy session, so for the first time in many weeks he was able to move around without that ever-present reminder of his lowly position shifting around inside his butt. He pulled on his tights, still damp from having been washed and wrung out the previous night.

Then he looked across to the other side of the cellar, where Raymond’s bed lay – clearly Raymond’s exalted new position also came with different sleeping arrangements. He celebrated silently the fact that the vindictive older boy would no longer be watching over his every move. Still, he was intrigued as to what Raymond’s duties would be in serving the mysterious Sir Wilfrid – a name Will had not even heard mentioned in all his time in the castle – and why he was so reluctant to fulfil them.

His day passed reasonably uneventfully – which for Will was a relief these days. And at dinner, without the sullen watchfulness of Raymond ready to criticise his every move, he performed confidently and made no mistakes.

As was his habit, the sophisticated Lord Geoffrey made the most of fondling Will’s bottom through his tights as Will served the dessert tray.

“I see you have dispensed with this page boy’s plug, then, Alexander,” he observed blandly. “I think that’s rather a pity. Such a beautiful arse should be full.”

Alexander nodded. “I agree, my Lord. But it is my experience that if a boy is kept plugged permanently, the arse muscles become loose, which prevents a man taking his full pleasure. Also, the danger is the boy loses control of his sphincter. I’m sure my Lordship would not wish to see the lad soil his tights.”

He looked at Will pointedly given their adventures of the previous evening. Will blushed and looked down at the flagstone floor.

Geoffrey slipped his hand down the back of Will’s tights, and inserted a couple of fingers into his arse. Will flinched.

“I see your point, Alexander, but it seems to me this lad’s hole remains as tight as a young girl’s – in spite of the attention it has received. Still, you know best in household affairs, I suppose.”

“Thank you, my Lord. Now, what will you take for your pudding? I can recommend the plums most highly...”

That evening, Will was surprised to see that a newcomer to the dormitory was occupying Raymond’s old corner of the cellar. It was a young man, perhaps twenty. He was tall and slender, and his green waistcoat and particoloured green and brown hose hung slightly off him, as if he had lost weight since the time he had been fitted for it. Will was surprised to find himself experiencing a certain level of distaste at the fact that the tights were not figure-hugging as was usually demanded. Alexander’s regime was clearly having an effect on him!

The newcomer’s hair was sandy coloured and he had large soulful grey eyes and a pretty, almost feminine face. The most noticeable thing, however, about him was his pale pallor and the dark circles around his eyes. He stooped slightly, and looked as if he had suffered some kind of recent trauma.

Mortimer, the chirpy red-haired lad who slept in the bed next to Will noticed him observing the newcomer.

“His name’s Bernard,” he informed Will, solemnly. “He’s the page that Raymond has replaced.”

“Ah,” whispered Will. “So he used to work for Sir Wilfrid then?”

“That’s right,” nodded Mortimer, pulling off his orange hose and slipping under the blanket of his bed.

“Who on earth is Sir Wilfrid?”

“Don’t you know?”

Will shook his head.

“Well, I suppose you haven’t been here long, after all. He’s the old uncle of Lord Geoffrey. Hardly anyone’s seen him for years. He lives in the squat tower and hasn’t left it for as long as anyone can remember. He’s supposed to be about a hundred years old. He can barely walk and he’s half-senile. Only one page is assigned to wait on him and satisfy his every whim. Every couple of years or so, the page is replaced. They say that even the strongest lad can only last that long.”

“Why?” asked Will. “What happens to them? What do they have to do?”

“Who knows? They all come back here looking like Bernard over there, shadows of their former selves.”

“So it was him who used to stand at the window of the tower and watch me when I was being given my purge.”

“I imagine so. Probably wanted to share in castle life in some small way. Maybe he even fancies you,” Mortimer smirked. “Although given the alternative he had on offer I shouldn’t say that was very surprising.”

Will chose to ignore that remark. “Will he be alright?”

“I’ve no idea. Sometimes they recover. Sometimes they don’t. But I’ve never yet heard of a page who wanted to talk about what happened to them whilst they were working for Sir Wilfrid…”

The weeks passed and autumn’s chill turned more wintry. Will marvelled at the fact that the once daunting castle now felt almost like home. The months he had lived here eradicated his old life as if it were only a dream.

And his new life was undoubtedly more straightforward now that Raymond was no longer a part of it. He saw little of Jane, as fate conspired to keep them apart but, strangely, Will no longer seemed to mind very much. Whenever he tried to conjure up Jane’s pretty little body, the fantasy was replaced by that of the strong, masculine torso of his master, Alexander.

For his part, the Chief Steward did his best to keep his promise to tutor the young page boy personally, although his many other duties meant that he did not use the boy’s body as frequently as he would have liked: much to his frustration.

The slut was positively born to be used and abused: the combination of youthful beauty and his naturally submissive manner brought out all of Alexander’s basest instincts. And he had every intention of indulging them.

Still, there was plenty else to do. War loomed, and it remained unclear exactly what the King would require of Geoffrey to provide in terms of manpower from his domain. Alexander had fought in wars in his youth, and had taken full advantage of the many opportunities offered by an environment, where horny knights and squired lived side by side, fucking one another as if each day were their last (as well it might prove to be). But that was history, and he firmly intended to remain here in his comfortable apartments at the castle if it were at all possible.

Then there was the breaking-in of Darius, the arrogant Arabian soldier, to continue. He was making progress. The gorgeous specimen’s will was gradually being eroded. But he needed to do more if his plan to incorporate the hunk into the lavish birthday banquet he was organising for Lord Geoffrey was to come to full fruition.

All of which left precious little time to work on young Will. He managed to summon him a couple of times to his plush bedchamber, and on each occasion, he had given him some expert tuition on sucking cock (the boy showed real talent and was learning to take his manmeat deep into his slutty throat) and had finished each lesson with a good fuck. But he was a busy man, and there were only so many hours in a day after all…

Finally the day of the grand banquet dawned.

Will had been ordered to rise even earlier than usual. Alexander was pulling out all the stops to ensure that Lord Geoffrey’s birthday celebrations were more spectacular than ever – and that meant all hands on deck.

The blond lad had spent the day rushing hither and thither, making deliveries and passing on messages. More often than not, if they involved an older male member of the castle’s staff, he was bent over their laps for a sound spanking on the seat of his tights, for some flimsy pretext or other. He could barely remember a time when his arse wasn’t smarting from being belted by some horny older man.

Finally the sun set, and the entire population of the castle crowded into the Great Hall to share in the festivities. Gay garlands of flowers and bright streamers festooned the vaulted ceiling, and the room was crammed with laughter and bright-eyed excitement. As well as a sumptuous banquet, there were rumours that the entertainment that Alexander had devised would be bigger and better than anything they had seen.

As usual, Lord Geoffrey sat at the centre of the top table, surrounded by his favourite knights. Geoffrey’s powerful shoulders were cloaked in flowing golden robes, and his handsome face was already flushed from the wine he had imbibed. His companions, Will noted, were equally physically blessed, and their muscular thighs bulged impressively in their hose.

Meanwhile, thick crimson drapes had been hung at the far end of the Hall and gossipy servants speculated what they could possibly be concealing!

Suddenly a kerfuffle in the corner of the Grand Hall made Will turn. Whispered giggles emanated from the area of the disturbance, and Will saw the crowd part to allow a newcomer to enter. The new arrival was an old, old man – wrinkled and shrivelled, his head almost bald save for a few straggly white hairs. His mouth was crabbed and sour, and he squinted as he looked around. He was dressed in a long robe, which once presumably had been opulent, but now was stained and tattered.

The old man was sitting in a wheeled chair and was being pushed along. Will gulped as he saw who was attending him, and in a split second, the identity of the man fell into place. This, then, was Sir Wilfrid, Geoffrey’s lecherous old uncle, and the wan, miserable youth manoeuvring him into place at the end of the top table was none other than Raymond.

Lord Geoffrey glanced across with a look of slight distaste. “Uncle! I wasn’t sure if you would be joining us.”

“Hoped I wouldn’t, more like,” spat the repulsive old man. “You might like to keep me out of sight and out of mind, but I hear some entertainment is afoot…”

Wilfrid licked his cracked lips like a serpent. “Boy!” he snapped. “I need to piss.”

Raymond appeared at his side, his face pale and nervous.

“What are you waiting for?” demanded the old man. “You know what to do. Doesn’t make any difference to me that there are all these people here. Pull your tights down!”

Raymond cast his eyes to the floor with a look of abject humiliation. Reluctantly, he rolled down the waistband of his yellow hose, exposing his buttocks to the Hall. A chuckle ran around the room, particularly from those who remembered the youth’s pride and arrogance.

“Hurry, boy! I can’t hold on much longer!”

Will watched in bewilderment, wondering what bizarre act was about to take place. His curiosity was soon satisfied.

Miserably, Raymond parted Sir Wilfrid’s disgusting robes, revealing a flash of parched naked skin beneath, and he sat himself down on the old man’s lap. The boy wriggled uncomfortably, his one hand fiddling beneath his buttocks.

“Ahhh,” said Wilfrid. “In we go. Good job your hole is still tight, boy. Are you ready to receive?”

Raymond nodded his head, and laughter began to ripple about the room as it became clear that the old man was relieving himself into Raymond’s arse. Will watched as the youth was forced to take the piss into his butt, and was surprised to see his cock began to twitch at the notion. All around the room, other men adjusted their tights-clad bulges, also clearly aroused by the display.

“Very well,” announced Wilfrid eventually. “I’m done. Off you go and empty yourself…”

Raymond gingerly lifted himself off his master’s cock and pulled up his tights in a vain attempt to salvage some kind of dignity.

“Hurry now! You know I like to have you on my lap at all times, bitch!”

Raymond waddled away, his stomach bulging and his arse sticking out as he fought to prevent his master’s piss from flooding out of his backside and soiling his yellow hose, Lord Geoffrey’s knights laughing and mocking him as he passed by.

Suddenly Will was aware of a presence at his shoulder.

“I hope you’re happy,” a feminine voice spat in his ear.

Will turned in surprise. “Jane!” he gasped. “I hoped I’d see you today…” He faltered as he saw the twisted, spiteful look on her pretty face.

“Well I never want to see you again, you little shit.”

“But... I don’t understand… I thought… I thought…”

“You thought what? That I fancied you? Ha! As if I could ever feel anything for a disgusting little catamite like you. Your arse is only good for one thing. And it and you are of no use to a normal girl like me.”

Will bit his lip at his sweetheart’s cruelty. “But what could I do?” he stammered. “I’m only a servant. I’ve had to go along with whatever Alexander has ordered me to do. He told me if I didn’t that he’d do it to you.”

“As if he’d have any interest in laying a hand on me,” the girl scoffed.

“But what you said to me, about my being brave. And handsome.”

“I lied, you moron.”

Will stared at her in bewilderment.

“For God’s sake, how do you think Alexander found out that we’d been fumbling in the stables?”

“It was you?”

“That’s right, genius! And it was also me who went and told Yorick that you were in his workshop trying to steal some clean tights.”

“But why? Why would you do that?”

“Family loyalty. You replaced my brother and he hated you as a result. So he asked me to help out to get you into as much trouble as possible.”

“Your – your brother?”

“And now he’s been sent to wait on that disgusting old man, and been humiliated in front of everybody in the castle! I’ll never forgive you for this, pageboy!”

And with that, Jane fled from Will’s side.

The blond page boy’s head was reeling. To think he’d done everything Alexander wanted in order to save Jane the ordeal herself – and it was her fault that he was in the predicament in the first place.

He did not, however, have long to ponder the callous way he had been deceived and manipulated by Raymond and Jane. A sudden blare of trumpets caused the whole of the castle’s inhabitants to turn their heads, as Alexander made a grand entrance through the Great Hall’s large oaken doors. The Steward bowed low before his master.

“Your Lordship. May I and the rest of your servants join to wish you the happiest of birthdays!”

He strode over to where the vast crimson drapes were hanging. As he did so, Will noticed Raymond shuffling back into the Hall, seemingly having rid himself of his obnoxious load. He was doing his utmost to appear as unobtrusive as possible, as he gingerly lowered the waist band of his tights, and with desperate resignation, he returned to Sir Wilfrid’s lap, the old man cackling as he slid his soft prick into the boy’s yielding backside.

“The preparations for this evening have been many months in the making – and your birthday gift has required considerable training, but I hope that your Lordship feels that my efforts have not entirely been in vain!”

Alexander clapped his hands, and the red curtains parted a little, to allow the two guards from Alexander’s torture chamber to wheel in a large object. Will could not discern immediately what it was, as it was concealed beneath a large black cloth, but it was shaped like a giant bell jar, perhaps six foot in height.

The assembled audience whispered to each other, wondering excitedly what could be concealed beneath the black drapery.

“I have sought near and far to find a gift worthy of your Lordship, and I believe I have discovered a rare and valuable specimen for your delectation. This creature was wild at first, but now it is as tame as a puppy. From the darkest depths of Arabia, may I present – the Bird of Paradise!”

And with that, Alexander tugged at a cord so that the black drape slipped to the floor. The whole room strained their necks to see what lay beneath.

It was a giant birdcage – wrought in iron and in the shape of a bell jar. The gaps in the bars were large enough for the spectators to see through, but not enough for the captive to escape. And what a captive!

Alexander surveyed the room with satisfaction to see the effect that the animal formerly known as Darius, the proud soldier, had upon the assembled throng. He was a far cry from the noble and imperious man he had purchased in the slave market all those months before. His physique was as impressive as ever, but he was now transformed into an exotic bird.

He had been shaved from neck to toe, with only his long, luscious raven locks remaining. All other hair had been ruthlessly removed from his masculine form. Then he had been coated in honey and dipped in black goose feathers. The down clung to his body, and the hunk was naked save for a slinky black thong which just managed to cover the bulge at his crotch.

Perched atop the slave’s head was a magnificent head dress of black and blue feathers, with a large golden “beak” perched atop it. Finally, protruding from the slave’s arse was a vast plume of feathers, firmly lodged in place via a well-positioned butt plug.

The slave-bird had been placed on a wooden swing that descended from the roof of the cage, and as the ludicrous sight sank in for the assembled crowd, along with the realisation that this was formerly one of their fiercest and most feared enemies, tittering laughter spread around the Great Hall.

Darius bit his lip. His spirit may have been broken by the kinky desires of Alexander, but this new humiliation, appearing in front of all his enemies, tarred and feathered in a slinky black thong, with a large peacock tail buried deep in his burning arse hole, took him to his lowest point yet.

“The proud peacock!” taunted Alexander.

Geoffrey rose to his feet. “This is indeed a worthy gift, Alexander. You have outdone yourself!”

Alexander accepted the praise with a small smile. “There is more, your Lordship. The slave-bird has been trained for your Lordship’s entertainment.”

He took an iron key from his pocket and unlocked the door to the giant bird cage.

“Come, slave-bird!” he beckoned.

The Arabian slipped from his perch and cautiously stepped through the doorway.

“Now you’re going to behave yourself, my pretty bird, aren’t you?” whispered Alexander through clenched teeth.

Darius remained silent but bowed his head in submission.

“Now show your master how you cluck, chicken!” commanded the Steward.

Darius glared at Alexander, a final moment of defiance in his eyes, but the older man held his gaze and, eventually, the former soldier surrendered his will.

The room fell silent as this perfect specimen raised his leg, in imitation of the strut of a bird. His feathered, muscular calf came down in a first tentative step, as a stifled giggle rang out in the Hall.

Alexander smiled smugly. “Come now, bird-boy. A little more energy is required, methinks!” He prodded the Arab’s muscular arse with his booted foot.

Darius – his head swimming with shame – picked up speed, his arms flapping at his sides like wings, his arse forced to stick out obscenely due to the giant feathered tail that swished as he mood.

More laughter from the spectators, and Alexander’s voice rang above the noise. “Cluck, bird-bitch! Cluck!”

Tentatively at first, the soldier began to imitate the sound of a chicken, and as his voice grew stronger and his clucking more confident, the jeers and catcalls from his audience only increased.

“Good, slave-bird! Good!” cried Alexander. “What a sight you are! A former soldier, proud, respected, reduced to this! Shaved, tarred and feathered, with a big bird tail coming from your butt, being forced to circle the Hall like a chicken – clucking and strutting like a ridiculous bird!”

The castle’s residents burst into applause, delighted by Alexander’s speech.

“Enough!” called the Steward. “Now, your Lordship, with your permission… I think it is time that our exotic peacock here laid an egg for you!”

15. Creamed Cock

“An egg?” called Lord Geoffrey. “Surely our proud cock cannot lay eggs?”

“Oh I think you’d be surprised, your Lordship, at just what might emerge from this creature’s talented hole!”

Darius quivered with shame to be described thus by his most hated foe.

“Come, chicken! You know what to do – show us how you lay your eggs…”

The Arab looked at the Steward helplessly.

“Very well, I shall aid you in your task,” and as he spoke these words, he ripped the tiny sliver of silky thong from the slave’s hips, so that it fell to the floor, exposing his considerable cock, which swung, large and flaccid from his groin. Then Alexander clutched the glossy feathers emerging from the slave’s ass. Tugging the fantasy tail, he pulled, until, with a loud plopping sound, the butt plug came free from Darius’ hole.

“Ahhhh!’ cried the exotic bird.

“No complaining, bitch! It will merely aid you in the laying of your precious cargo to have your ass muscles loosened a little… Now – squat for your masters and lay an egg like a good little chicken!”

The beautiful soldier whimpered in despair as he did as he was instructed, lowering his torso towards the ground, and pushing his arse out.

Will craned his neck to get a better view as a hush fell across the room. How, he wondered, could Alexander achieve this?

“Come, slut-bird,” taunted the Steward. “Force those arse lips apart and produce a big egg for us…”

Darius gritted his teeth, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead as he strained his muscles to produce his burden.

“The egg appears!”

And sure enough, the very tip of a large white egg began to appear as the slave bird’s hole began to stretch. Clearly, Will realised, with a slightly guilty thrill, Alexander had already inserted the egg into his slave’s butt before plugging it with the fantasy bird tail. The atmosphere in the large hall was electric. Everyone remained silent as they watched the obscene entertainment unfold.

The monstrous egg grew wider, porcelain white and coated in the sticky mucus of the Arabian’s arse. Darius the slave’s face grew redder with the shame and the exertion.

“And I’ll take a little clucking from you, as well!”

Darius the bird creature screeched in pain and shame, and as he did so, he let out a squelching fart sound as the fat egg was released from his gaping butt hole. It clattered to the floor with a heavy thud, and Will realised the egg must be of some considerable weight and must have caused the Arab much pain in attempting to retain it. Fidgeting in his tights, Will was reminded of the plug that had until recently permanently rested in his bottom. Will could only sympathise with the slave’s much abused arsehole.

A roar of appreciative laughter echoed around the Hall, and a derisive smattering of applause followed.

The slave collapsed onto his hands and knees, panting from the pain and exertion of producing his precious cargo.

Alexander crossed to the defeated and broken soldier and crouched down to whisper in his face.

“I’m proud of you, my peacock… You see how much better off you are stripped of that misplaced arrogance – and of your dignity! Do you see what you have become? A bird of fantasy. To be mocked and laughed at by your bitterest enemies. How does it feel to know all of these men are rubbing their cocks through their silken hose even now at the thought of you straining to produce a porcelain egg from your beautiful arse?…”

One final vestige of Darius’ defiance remained. Raising his dark, handsome head, he spat in Alexander’s face.

A shocked silence fell across the room.

Alexander rose to his feet and calmly wiped the spittle from his cheek.

He turned to his captive audience and smiled wickedly.

“I would now like to introduce a very special guest to you all. With all due respect to Mistress Olwen, our wonderful cook, I have invited a gentleman who is a true specialist in the art of cuisine. I give you the illustrious Monsieur Francois!”

The large doors swang open, and Will turned his head to catch a glimpse of the new arrival. The man who now entered the Hall was very short and very round: only about five foot in height – and very nearly the same size in diameter. His face was pale and doughy, with two little black beady eyes like currants. His doublet and hose were white, and he acknowledged the applause of the castle’s occupants with a self-satisfied nod as he waddled towards the platform at the end of the Hall.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the Hall, Alexander had ordered some of his servants to move a large wooden table into view. The table was covered with bowls, pots and other receptacles. And a heady aroma of herbs and spices emanated from its direction.

“Welcome, Monsieur Francois!” called the Steward. “You honour us with your presence!”

“Well, my friend” replied the fat little man, in a thick Gallic accent. “Yours was a most unusual request but I have never been able to resist a challenge! And to do so to celebrate ze birthday of Lord Geoffrey – how could I refuse?”

The greying Lord of the Castle raised his goblet in acknowledgment.

“All is as you requested, monsieur. I shall leave it all to your expertise…”

Will craned his neck to watch as the little foreigner took up a position behind the table.

“My friends!” he declared. “I am ze greatest chef in ze world! And you will have ze privilege of watching me work! Today I prepare a new recipe. It is called “Coq au Crème!”

He paused for dramatic effect.

“Now, I do require some volunteers for zis challenging dish. Four good strong men to help me in its preparation. Your Lordship, perhaps you would be so kind as to nominate your most trusted men…”

Lord Geoffrey smiled quizzically at the funny little man, and then indicated the four knights who sat closest to him. Will gulped as the four fantastic specimens of manhood rose to their feet – all of them chisel-jawed, with bulging muscles. Their colours of their tights ranged from grey to burgundy to black, but every one contained awesomely proportioned thigh muscles and engorged bulges, still excited from the sight of Darius the slave bird and his egg-laying trick.

“Now. Ze most important part of zis recipe is to find a really succulent piece of bird flesh. Would you gentlemen know where I could locate a fresh hunk of male poultry, per’aps?”

The knights shared a conspiratorial look and strode over to where the Arab slave lay, spent and exhausted on the floor. As he saw his enemies approach, a flame of resistance again seemed to leap in him, and Darius began to scramble to his feet. But there was nowhere for him to flee. Some of the black feathers became dislodged as the knights grabbed his muscular form, and they fluttered to the ground. One knight held the struggling bird of fantasy at each limb and dragged him over to the chef’s table.

“Bon. Bon. Tres bon!” purred Monsieur Francois. “A most delicious-looking specimen! And now to prepare him! First – he must be plucked!”

A raucous laugh from Master Yorick echoed around the hall.

“Non, non, monsieur! I said plucked!”

Darius’s eyes widened as the little chef produced from beneath the table a large (and very sharp) pair of shears.

“Now, gentlemen. You will ‘ave to keep him very still. I do not want to clip something off by mistake!”

Geoffrey’s handsome knights pinioned the terrified, sweating slave boy against the wall. Francois approached him slowly and slowly and sensuously ran the cold blades of the knife down his trembling body.

And then… snip… snip… snip… The chef began to strip the feathers from the young man’s succulent flesh. He was an expert and soon the soft black down lay at a pile at the Arab slut’s feet.

“And now – his hair must also be shaved!”

One of the knights reached over and removed the fantastical head dress from their captive’s head. And so soon, the glossy black mane of Darius’ hair also met its downfall. The chef took a step back so that his enraptured audience could appreciate the view.

Darius the slave stood like a bronzed statue: completely hairless from head to toe. His pectoral muscles glistened with sweat. His face was drawn with shame and humiliation.

“Excellent! Zat is more like it!” crowed Francois.

In spite of himself, Will found that his cock was rock hard in his tights. He couldn’t help himself. And blushing pink, he realised that a part of him envied the Arab soldier his predicament. How Will wished he had four gorgeous hunks, all clad in the slinkiest and silkiest of materials, all pressed against his naked body. Their muscular asses looked divine in their fine hosiery. And each of them was also turned on by having the beautiful slave at their mercy.

“Now, my friends! Bring ze chicken to ze table. We must prepare our bird for dinner.”

The delighted knights dragged the struggling slave to the large wooden table, grinning amongst themselves at the prospect of yet more humiliation for the unfortunate hunk. Between the four of them, they hefted the naked man onto his back on the table and then took up positions at each of the four corners, two at his wrists and two at his ankles, to ensure he could not escape.

“We must truss our turkey, gentlemen!”

Quick as a flash, the chef handed some sturdy pieces of rope to Lord Geoffrey’s knights. And the knights needed no further instruction.

Despite Darius’ struggles, his legs were raised and securely tied to his ankles. The captive bird’s feet pointed to the sky, and his ass lay inviting and vulnerable.

“Excellent! And naturally we begin with ze most important and tasty part – ze stuffing! We have all seen the capacious anal cavity that our bird possesses. It will take some stuffing to fill him all up, I think!”

A vast clay bowl appeared from nowhere, and Francois plunged his chubby hand into it, lifting out a pale brown, gunky substance.

“My secret recipe! A divine blend of breadcrumbs, egg yolk, butter, chopped onions, carrots, cranberries and herbs and spices give ze stuffing a gorgeous piquancy!”

Darius struggled against his bonds, but it was no use. He was stuck fast, helpless to whatever perverted treatment the Frenchman determined to mete out.

“Does everyone have a good view of ze bird’s bottom?”

A cheer from the throng assured him that this was indeed so.

“Bon. Zen here we go!”

The chef took a large handful of the gunk. “Would you be so kind as to part ze cheeks?” he asked two of the knights with excessive politeness. They did so only too eagerly; and skilfully, the chef began to push the stuffing into Darius’ swollen arsehole.

“Ahhhh!” the slave cried out, as he felt the gloop enter his backside.

“Ah,” said the chef. “Did I mention, I like my stuffing to be very spicy? I have added extra pepper, extra ginger and extra chilli to ze recipe! I fear my little bird of paradise zat zis will not be a pleasant experience for you…”

Half of the audience winced at the thought of the slave’s burning ass ring. The other half thrilled with the sadistic pleasure of what he would suffer. Will shifted uncomfortably as he realised only he was fantasising that he was the one lying there, naked and trussed up on the table in front of everyone, his bottom being abused in the obscene parody of a meal being prepared.

Darius’ hole continued to be stretched as Francois fed more and more of the slimy mixture into him. His fat little fingers pushed and prodded the stuffing deeper and deeper.

“I shall soon have you full to ze brim, my little chicken,” he cooed.

Will remembered how humiliating it felt to be filled with food. And now to see this once proud, noble warrior reduced to this demeaning position made him shake his head in wonder.

Darius was moaning as the spicy mixture was inserted into the depths of his bowels.

“My, my, what a noisy little bird, we have here! My friends, would you find something to gag zat mouth of his?”

One of the gorgeous young knights – the tall, well-built Sir Antony, rifled through the various bowls and containers sitting on the table and produced a fat yellow lemon. He rubbed the fruit casually against the crotch of his fine black tights.

“Will this do, Monsieur?” he smirked.

“Excellent!”

The lemon was pushed between Darius’ lips, into his mouth, and tied in place, effectively gagging him and ensuring that the only sounds he could make were muffled moans and sobs. Of which there were plenty…

The stuffing was just about gone. The whole bowl was wiped clean and its fiery, gunky contents were all now residing within the slave’s guts.

“Now, my little bird. We must make sure none of zat delicious stuffing leaks out, mustn’t we? Perhaps you would be so good as to pass me another of zose juicy lemons?”

The slave bird’s eyes widened as the considerable amount of stuffing, packed solidly inside his fundament was impacted even further.

“In we go…”

And the large, pimpled yellow fruit stretched the slave’s anus yet more.

“We are packed very full,” Francois smiled as the lemon met resistance at the slave’s swollen hole. But eventually, he succeeded and the bulbous citrus fruit penetrated the opening.

“Arrrgggh!!” screamed Darius.

Monsieur Francois was determined and adept. He worked away at the opening until the fruit went all the way in. The chef stepped back for everyone to appreciate his handiwork. Some of the breadcrumby gunk was smeared around the slave’s ass, and the presence of the lemon was all too visibly obvious. The slave’s asslips were parted just a little and the yellow fruit’s end protruded slightly for all to see. Darius moaned and whimpered through his lemon gag, his body clearly too stuffed for his arse to close over the intrusion completely.

A wave of amused applause came from the audience. Will could only imagine how the once proud soldier must feel to be on display, trussed up and exhibited in this fashion. His body abused for the entertainment and arousal of his enemies, who had prevented even his bumhole from closing properly.

Clearly, however, his torment was not yet over. The fat little chef was instructing his hosed assistants, and the four beefy hunks were now lifting the unfortunate slave-chicken from the table and into a large, shallow tin tub that Francois had produced.

“And now,” he chuckled wickedly. “Ze chicken must be oiled!”

A large green bottle of cooking oil appeared on the table and soon the sleeves of Sir Antony and his companions were rolled up as they eagerly got to work.

Copious amounts of oil were poured into their willing palms, and soon they were rubbing, caressing, fondling the struggling body of the slave Darius so that every inch of that perfect form was covered in the oil – shimmering and sensuous.

The gloopy oil ran down their captive’s long, muscular thighs, and the strong palms of the knights rubbed and massaged Darius’ massive pectoral muscles. Meanwhile, Sir Antony reached between the Arab’s still-tied legs and, with an oily fist, began to pump at their captive’s generous cock.

“Our chicken is enjoying the attention!” he called out. “See how stiff his cock has become!”

“Ah” – Francois interjected. “Ze most succulent piece of any chicken! We must make sure zat is given particular attention!”

The chef made a great play of seasoning Darius’ cock with salt, pepper and herbs, rubbing them into the shaft and inserting a bay leaf into the man’s cockhole.

Finally, Francois reached in to wrap the oily penis in a thin tin foil. Once again, the spectators in the hall burst out laughing to see the Arab’s erect cock wrapped in a humiliating shiny sheath.

Suddenly there was a commotion in the tub as Darius began to rock back and forth in the oil, moaning painfully.

“Ahhh,” cooed Francois. “Is it becoming painful, my little chicken, to hold on to all zat gunky stuffing? Your body must want to expel it very badly. And yet you cannot, can you? Zat naughty lemon is keeping it all tightly packed inside you! All for our amusement!”

Will could only sympathise. He knew that full sensation only too well!

“And now, my friends – for ze next part of ze recipe! Ze marinade!”

The chef fetched another large crockery pot with a heavy lid.

“We must make sure ze chicken is fully coated so zat he will be as tasty as can be!”

Francois removed the lid and rested the pot on his considerable belly and stood at the head of the large roasting tin. Tantalisingly slowly he began to tip the pot forward.

“Ze marinade is a thick gravy – wine, flour, onions, carrots, potatoes and chicken stock! All to be poured over our little bird here…”

The viscous liquid began to spill over the edge of the pot and the crowd gasped with delight as some of it splashed onto Darius’ oiled chest. The marinade was cold and the slave shivered as it hit his body.

“A little more I think is needed…”

The gloopy brown fluid came more quickly now, and Francois ranged about the roasting tin so that it fell on the humiliated Darius’ legs and crotch. Chunks of vegetables plopped onto his writhing body and finally the chef emptied a generous amount right over the slave’s head. Darius blinked and choked as the gravy slowly slid down his face, over his eyes and down his nose.

The little chef deposited the empty pot on the floor and then hefted the slave into a sitting position so that the whole room could see the cold, wet, miserable creature: his arse and mouth stuffed, his whole body stained with the brown marinade.

More raucous laughter erupted, along with appreciative applause for the entertainment Francois had afforded them.

“Bravo!” called Lord Geoffrey. “Bravo!”

Francois bowed theatrically and then paused and frowned. In a pantomime gesture, he dipped one finger into the tin and licked the brown goo from it. He shook his head sadly.

“I fear zat ze recipe is not quite right. It lacks one important ingredient.”

He turned to the four knights who still stood with him.

“Of course! How can I prepare cock au crème when I have not added any cream! My friends – would you be so kind as to oblige me and provide ze cream for zis most exquisite of dishes…”

A moment of puzzlement, and then Sir Antony understood.

“Why, monsieur,” he declared. “We should be delighted.”

And with that he strode over to stand at the roasting tin. He fiddled briefly with the waistband of his tights, and soon he had freed his large, veiny cock from its slinky confines. His three compatriots did not hesitate to join him. And soon all four hunks assembled round the roasting tin, pumping away at their manmeat, their tightly muscled, hosed backsides clenching and unclenching as they worked their way to climax. And glancing around the Hall, Will could not help but notice the envious looks of the male spectators, all wishing they could be the ones wanking off over the gunged and humiliated slave bitch.

A grunt and a cry suddenly erupted from Sir Antony and with a shudder that passed through his whole body, he ejaculated a thick stream of white cum into the air. It seemed to hang in space for a moment before splashing satisfyingly across Darius’ potato covered chest. Darius cringed as the man-cum hit his naked torso. The white slime mingled with the brown as it slowly ran down his glistening body. And soon it was joined by that of the three other knights: one gloopy strand hitting Darius right in the face, blinding him momentarily and then dripping onto his full lips, still forced permanently open by the lemon gag.

At this, Alexander could restrain himself no longer. He leaped to his feet and joined the erotic tableau at the end of the Hall.

“What a fucking site, slave bitch! Not so proud now, are you? Look at you! Stripped and shaved: arse stuffed with breadcrumbs, and a lemon pushed in either end of you to keep you well and truly plugged. And then coated in a savoury brown gravy, with an extra coating of real men’s cum! You must be so humiliated now. And to be exposed like this in front of all your enemies!”

Indeed, Darius was now shivering with the cold and the humiliation of the experience. Will had never seen a man look so broken, so devastated.

“Our thanks and gratitude to Monsieur Francois.”

Once again the fat chef bowed to acknowledge the applause of his audience.

“And only one thing remains. And that of course is this. Our “Coq au crème” must be cooked!”

Francois looked a little puzzled. Clearly he had not anticipated this part of the entertainment. The chef’s bewilderment was echoed by the spectators, and a gasp of realisation escaped them, when two of Alexander’s lackeys from the dungeon rolled an iron stove on castors into the room.

Darius’ eyes widened in terror as the implication of the stove began to sink in. Surely they did not intend to roast him alive? He tried to scream in protest but the lemon lodged between his teeth muffled the sound. With a flourish, Alexander flung the door of the oven open and Will could see glowing embers of firewood within to show it had been prepared and heated to a desired temperature.

The crowd were hungry now – whipped into a frenzy, they wanted nothing less than to see the exquisite slave roasted in his exotic marinade.

Will watched open-mouthed in astonishment as the four knights hauled the roasting tin, Darius thrashing impotently within, onto their shoulders and then pushed it into the stove.

The audience were afforded a final glimpse of the desperate Arab before Alexander, with a wicked laugh, clanged the iron door shut and committed the slave to his doom.

16. Encased in tights

Lord Geoffrey’s birthday celebrations had been deemed a great success. The evening had degenerated into a night of drunken debauchery. And for once the strict regime at the castle was allowed to lapse a little. Even Mistress Olwen had to admit that the feast was indeed magnificent, although only the most adventurous of the guests dared to taste some of the dish of the day – Francois’ exotic “Coq au crème”. Those who did declared that it was utterly divine.

Geoffrey had asked Alexander if the slave boy had indeed been roasted and if it was his carcass that now adorned the dinner table. Alexander had replied with an enigmatic smile that he would beg to be allowed to keep that particular information a birthday secret, but something told Geoffrey that all was not as it had seemed.

Eventually, everyone made their way to their beds: Raymond perched miserably on the shrivelled Sir Wilfrid’s lap, and Sir Antony and his three companions disappeared into Lord Geoffrey’s bedchamber for a kind of entertainment Will could only imagine.

Will himself, meanwhile, was not at all surprised to be summoned to the Chief Steward’s bedchamber for the attention that he had received all too infrequently over the past few months, whilst Alexander’s attentions had been trained on his slave-bird.

“Enter, boy!” Alexander’s masculine tones instructed as Will once again waited outside the bedchamber, dressed in his skimpy page outfit and tight-fitting hose.

As usual, Will’s heart was in his mouth as he contemplated what Alexander could possibly have in store for him this time.

However, it seemed that, mellowed by wine, Alexander was in a more conversational mood than usual.

“So, slutboy,” he drawled. “What did you think of the evening’s entertainment?”

As always, Alexander’s very presence made Will feel nervous. And this was a new development. He was not usually asked for his opinion on anything!

“Did it turn you on, eh? Get that pathetic little boycock twitching in your tights to see the humiliation of a great soldier – being reduced to a mere chicken?”

Will panicked trying to work out what he was supposed to say. Would it anger Alexander more if he told him he was turned on or that he wasn’t?

“Answer me, bitch. Or are you still more interested in that slutty little serving girl?”

“No, Sir,” Will stammered as he recalled Jane’s devastating revelation.

“Ah, so you have learned the truth about that little minx then. Don’t say you were surprised! As if a woman would have had any use for you. You’re good for one thing and one thing only. To be tied up and to have a cock stuck in one of your ends. A real man’s cock!”

As if on command, Will’s dick twitched in his tights at this verbal humiliation.

“I was right, boy, I see…”

“Now, come over here and get your waistcoat and pumps off. I want you naked apart from your tights…”

Will did as he was instructed. He wondered if he would ever get accustomed to that terrible, wonderful thrill of excitement as he was ordered to strip down to merely that most revealing and erotic item of clothing – his tight-fitting hose.

“Sit on the end of the bed…”

Will did so. And he sensed Alexander climbing onto the sheets behind him.

“Master Yorick has been hard at work for you, my boy. He’s been helping me with a little project. I’ve decided I want to see and feel my little slave bitch entirely covered in tights – from head to toe.”

Will felt an item of clothing slip over his head. He soon realised that the material was the same stretchy, clingy material as his tights. Alexander guided the page boys arms into the garment. It appeared to have long sleeves that ended in gloves. The older man rolled down the torso of what appeared to be some kind of leotard. Alexander lifted the boy’s bottom as he fastened the body around Will’s arsehole.

“Beautiful,” cooed Alexander. “And now the finishing touch…”

Will felt Alexander’s hands at his temples, as the Steward began to force a kind of hood onto his head. Will panicked slightly until he realised the material was the again the same as that of his tights. The hose-hood slipped over his face but was light enough for him to be able to breathe through and (although his vision was restricted) he could just about make out shapes through the material.

“Mmm. Perfect. Stand, boy.”

Will did as he was instructed, and Alexander stepped back to appreciate his creation. That lithe body, the strong muscular thighs and that pert, perfect bum all entirely encased in tights from head to toe.

“Now you truly are my tights bitch, boy.”

Will’s cock was rock hard as ever. His senses were muffled slightly. Sounds and sights came to him differently through the clinging, blue material. And as Alexander’s manly hands began to roam over his body, the sheer sensuousness of the all-over coverage made his cock ache for release.

He felt himself being pushed back onto the bed, and once again felt the familiar sensation as his limbs were tugged into a spread-eagled position and fastened to the bedposts.

“My kinky little tights slave tied up and ready to be used…”

The heady aroma of Alexander’s potion filled the air as the bottle was forced under Will’s nostrils and he had no choice but to inhale through the tights-hood.

Then the bottle was gone and Will’s hips bucked as he felt Alexander’s face sink into his, his master’s tongue pushing against the tight material and into his mouth. Will responded. The hosiery formed an erotic barrier between the two of them, preventing their salivating tongues from meeting, as the effects of the potion drove Will crazy with desire and lust.

The material was damp as Alexander withdrew his tongue and replaced it with his impressive cock.

He sat astride Will’s chest, pounding his dick into his blue boy’s mouth.

“Take it,” he hissed. “Take my cock, slut boy.”

Will did as he was told as best he could. And then Alexander withdrew, leaving him gasping for air through his hood.

“Now I want to see you writhe. Struggle and writhe. Struggle, moan and writhe. My tied up bitch. My kidnapped hostage. My tights slave.”

Will did as he was told, straining against his bonds, thrashing and moaning and whimpering, the potion coursing through his body, knowing that the sight was only arousing his Master more and more. The material of the tights, encased him completely and caused yet more exquisite arousal.

Will felt Alexander’s stockinged foot ranging over his tights-clad body, pressing against his tits, his cock, his balls, his thighs…

And then he heard the grunt of ecstatic release as Alexander came, and hot thick cum spattered over Will’s hosed body.

Will waited as the cum started to cool and dry on his leotard and tights. Then to his astonishment, he felt Alexander grab his cock and start to rub it through the silken material.

“Don’t get used to this, bitch. This is a special treat in honour of Lord Geoffrey’s birthday…”

Will began to moan in ecstasy as he felt his cock wanked through the gorgeous silky hose.

“Silence, bitch!” And Alexander clamped his manly palm over the boy’s nose and mouth. Will squirmed even more as the hand muffled his squeals and restricted his breathing. But the clamped hand only served to arouse him even more!

And then try, as he might to delay it, his adolescent hormones betrayed him. He spurted – over and over and over – into the crotch of his hose. Alexander pumped away at his cock until he had milked it completely dry.

Will lay there, gasping post-ejaculation, astonished that Alexander had relaxed his own rules and allowed his page boy to come.

“There are going to be some changes around here, soon, boy,” Alexander warned the tights-clad figure lying prone and tied to the bed. “War is coming. And that means uncertainty for us all…”

The Chief Steward was not wrong. Mere days after the celebrations had taken place marking the occasion of Lord Geoffrey’s birthday, rumours began to spread that the King was embarking on another foreign military campaign, and any able-bodied men faced conscription into his army.

Sure enough, within days, Alexander had been summoned to Geoffrey’s rooms and given the news that Geoffrey, along with all his most able knights, were required to travel to Arabia to do battle with the King’s enemies there.

“It’s hopeless, of course, but the old fool is too stubborn to see it,” grumbled the Lord of the manor. “And in the mean time, good men must be sacrificed on the altar of his pride and ambition. Still, we must obey, my friend. And I fear the number of men I am required to supply means that some must come from your staff as well as those more accustomed to life on the battlefield.”

“I shall be honoured, my Lord, to fight alongside you” –

“No, no, my friend. Much as I would value it, your place is here. I need a man I can trust to protect the castle whilst I’m away. But I fear I must leave you with only a skeleton staff. All the strongest and bravest fighters must come with me.”

Will was safe. Everyone regarded him as a moronic peasant boy who would likely get himself killed within moments of arriving on a foreign shore. So there was no danger of him being conscripted. Besides, Will felt fairly sure Alexander intended to keep him very close at hand for the foreseeable future. But plenty of the other pages were required to attend some rudimentary battle training. And even Master Yorick – whose bulging muscles made him a prime target for the army – began to pack up his belongings and say his farewells.

By the end of the week, the parade of strong, handsome, virile men, with Lord Geoffrey at its head, was on its way. Tears were shed, embraces were made, and then they were gone. The castle’s chambers echoed – empty save for those deemed unworthy of military service.

Will found his day-to-day existence went on much as before. True, he had now inherited some of the duties of the other pages, but there were now far fewer residents in the castle to cater to. As for Alexander, well, he had been left in complete command. Not that Lord Geoffrey had ever seen fit to question his right-hand man before – but now the Chief Steward’s power truly was absolute.

It was a cold February morning. Will was fetching firewood to top up Mistress Olwen’s dwindling supply, when he heard an excited commotion arising from the courtyard.

“Well, boy,” snapped the old cook. “Go and see what is happening out there!”

Will hurried, all too eager to discover the cause of the disturbance. He ran outside and saw the large wooden gates of the castle swinging open. Like him, others had come to gawp at the visitors. And this is what they saw. It was a small procession, headed by a young page boy who must have been only twelve or thirteen years old. He carried a tall flag, with a golden crest emblazoned at its end.

Behind the page rode two men that Will could only describe as giants. They were undoubtedly the tallest, broadest, biggest men that he had ever seen. Each of them must have been easily six foot six. One had masses of wiry black hair growing all over him: on his head, his face and sprouting from his chest. The other man was equally dark, but where his companion was bearded and hairy, the second man was clean shaven, even down to his razored scalp. Both were dressed identically, wrapped up tight in long, furry, black robes that fell to their feet. They rode monstrous black horses, quite as big as the shire horses that his neighbour Gyles kept back in the village farm.

The men in black each touched their swords lightly, as if as a warning for anyone who dared approach. And they scowled evilly at the gawping servants.

As if the sight of these two ogres were not astonishing enough, then the next rider in the little parade presented an even more extraordinary apparition.

It was a young man. Will guessed he was at most twenty two or three. He was about five feet ten tall, and Will instantly knew that he was the most handsome man he had ever laid eyes on. His skin was a pure, flawless white, which contrasted with the golden waves of his shoulder length hair. His eyes were as blue as sapphires, and his nose was slim and straight. His lips red, full and slightly pouting, and his cheeks and bone structure were as fine and delicate as if they had been constructed in some heavenly forge.

His physique was easy to appreciate also, for unlike the monsters who preceded him, and in spite of the biting chill, the beautiful young man’s body was not engulfed in cloaks and furs. His shoulders were broad and his waist slim. His fine legs were clearly on display – muscular and shapely and encased in the finest, silken lavender hose. He wore leather riding boots that covered his calves, but his exquisite tights covered his thighs and then extended well beyond his flat stomach and over his chest. A silver embroidered “bolero” jacket covered the young man’s upper body and arms, but Will was all too aware that the stranger had abandoned warmth and comfort for the effect he knew his devastating attire would have on his audience. The only concession to the cold was a jaunty fur hat which perched on an angle atop his beautiful head.

The crowd fell silent as the newcomers entered the courtyard, and Will could see from the young man’s proud expression that he was well used to being admired, indeed that he expected it from anyone he should meet.

The youth reined in his pure white steed and called out in a clear voice: “Who is master here?”

“I have that honour – for the time being, your highness.”

Alexander had emerged from his office and stood at the top of the steps that led up to the entrance to the Great Hall.

“And who, pray, are you?”

“My name is Alexander Courcey. And I am the Chief Steward of de Montford Castle. Had we been forewarned of your arrival, we would have been able to prepare a proper welcome for you.”

“My journey here has been one of the utmost secrecy. Only my father and a few of my most trusted servants have known. My father did not dare risk my royal person by telling just – anyone.”

Alexander bowed low, but Will could see that the insult had found its mark.

“Please, then, your highness. Come this way. Our castle’s staff is rather depleted at the moment but I can assure you, we will do everything in our power to make your sojourn here a comfortable one.”

“See that you do, Courcey,” replied the young man. “My father would be most displeased if it were not.”

And with that, he swang athletically down from his steed, and followed by his hulking bodyguards and his pageboy, strode into the castle.

Alexander was struggling to maintain his composure.

Will suddenly realised Mistress Olwen was at his side.

“Who is it?” he hissed.

Olwen pulled a face. “That, lad, is Prince Felix: the only son and heir of our beloved King. And from what I hear of that young man, his arrival at our castle will mean only one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Trouble.”

17. The Erotic Book

“Boy! Attend on me and the prince…”

Will hurried over to the Steward’s side and followed at a respectful distance as the new arrivals made their way through the corridors of the castle.

Alexander’s mind was working quickly. He would have to play this situation very carefully indeed. Prince Felix had a tricky reputation, to say the least, and was used to getting his way in all things.

“This way, your highness. We shall be honoured to receive you in Lord Geoffrey’s own private apartments – the finest and most opulent in the castle.”

“I should expect no less,” murmured the prince.

Alexander nodded to the page boy, who opened the door to Lord Geoffrey’s richly upholstered study, and allowed his visitors to enter the room. The prince went first, closely followed by his hulking bodyguards. Alexander came in behind them, and nodded to the page to close the door.

Felix glanced around at the rich Persian tapestries that adorned the stone walls. “Adequate,” he said, tersely.

He strode over to a large leather armchair and sank into its comfortable plushness, stretching his arms and legs like a self-satisfied cat. The gigantic bodyguards took up protective positions either side of their prince, as Will waited respectfully by the door. Alexander smiled at his royal guest.

Ye gods, but the youth was beautiful, he thought to himself. His handsome head flung back, so that the shape of his pale neck lay there, just ready to be nibbled and kissed. The lithe torso, the bulge at his groin, and those impossibly shapely legs, all encased in the superb lavender hose were all enough to drive him into a frenzy of lust. Already Alexander’s mind began to wander to wicked thoughts of precisely what he would do to the young buck should he ever be fortunate enough to have him at his mercy.

“Remove my boots!” ordered Prince Felix imperiously.

Alexander nodded at Will to do as the prince commanded, and Will hesitantly took a step forward to approach the royal dignitary.

“Not him. I want you to do it.” Felix gestured disdainfully at Alexander, the merest hint of a smile playing around his full lips.

Alexander watched Will hesitate. Whom would the boy obey? Ah, thought the Steward. So this is the way it is to be, is it? He gritted his teeth, inwardly fuming at the humiliation he had been dealt in front of the lowliest junior page – a boy whom he took expert delight in using and abusing. But Alexander had not risen to the post of Lord Geoffrey’s most trusted adviser without knowing when to fight and when to concede. For now, the prince held the upper hand.

“Of course, your highness. It would be an honour.”

Alexander knelt before the young man as Felix raised his brown leather riding boot in the air. Grasping the top of the boot, he allowed his hand to brush against the taut muscles of the prince’s thigh, strong and lissom in his sensuous hosiery. God, he felt good, he thought.

One tug. Then another. And the boot came free. Felix grunted in satisfaction as he wiggled his toes in their tights. “And now the other one, Master Steward…”

The same ritual, and the other boot was also off. The prince sank his perfect, hosed feet into the thick red carpet. Then he swang one leg around and slung it casually over the arm of the chair, leaving his foot dangling, and his legs spread apart. His crotch bulged delightfully in his tights, and he sat there for a moment, allowing Alexander to drink in his masculine beauty.

Alexander rose to his feet, depositing the two sweaty leather riding boots to one side, and bowing low as he withdrew from the sacred presence of royalty.

The prince took one of his fine, bejewelled hands and ran it casually through his golden locks. “Now, I suppose you want an explanation of how I came to this God-forsaken hole of a castle.”

Alexander remained silent.

“I am here at the entreaty of my father the King. As you know, he has embarked on a righteous campaign against the heathen foe. The royal palace is full of those who would wish my father ill, and as I am his most precious and beloved possession he wanted to ensure my safety in his absence. For this reason, he has despatched me here, to the home of his most loyal servant, my godfather and your master, Lord Geoffrey de Montford. And I am to stay here as your guest until my father has returned triumphant from his military quest.

“These are my bodyguards – the bearded brute is named Ulfgar and the shaven headed ogre is Odin. They are of Viking origin and are to be shown the utmost courtesy and to be obeyed in all things. As of course, am I.

“Now I imagine I shall be making some changes around this place. After all, a little backwater such as this can hardly be expected to keep up with what is going on in more civilised climes. But if you are loyal and hard-working, you will find I can be a kindly master. However, if I become displeased, my anger will know no bounds. So consider yourselves warned. Do I make myself clear?”

“As crystal, your highness,” purred Alexander. “And I feel sure that, despite our, as you say, humble surroundings, you will find the castle a comfortable and welcoming home for the duration of your stay here.”

Prince Felix’s expression was disdainful and unconvinced. “Well, we shall see. But for now I need to bathe. How l long to be rid of the stink of horses…”

“Little backwater, he said, did he? What a nerve!”

“Yes,” Will nodded to the cook. “I’ve never heard anyone speak to Master Alexander like that. And he made him pull his boots off too! I don’t think Alexander liked it.”

“I’m sure he didn’t,” replied Olwen. “I don’t like the sound of this at all.”

“What do you know of the prince?’

The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “As you know, lad, I’m not one to gossip, but I hear he’s utterly spoiled. His mother died when he was an infant and he’s the king’s only heir. His father dotes on him and he’s never been criticised or corrected in his life. He’s never done a day’s work and he lounges around, believing he’s better than anyone else in the world.”

“Oh…”

“And I bet you any money he’s fussy about what he eats as well…”

Alexander quickly realised that the spoiled young Prince would be looking for any excuse to criticise the reception he was receiving at the castle. And he was seriously under-staffed for a royal visitor. Only three pages had escaped conscription into the royal army.

The first, Mortimer, Alexander considered cute in a Puckish way: his red hair, freckles and upturned nose would certainly appeal to some, and his legs encased a uniform of orange tights were shapely, if slim. It had been his height (or rather lack of it) that had meant he had been left behind when the majority of the castle’s menfolk left on their expedition.

Next was a plump boy named Humphrey. Humphrey was a cry baby, and had sniffled and sobbed himself to sleep for a good six weeks after being parted from his mother. The principal source of entertainment that he gave Alexander was that he was incredibly self-conscious about his ample bottom, which was displayed in all its bouncy glory in his shimmering green hose.

Finally there was Alexander’s secret favourite: the sexy young slutboy, Will. He’d ensured that the blond young stud was going nowhere near the war zone. He wanted his latest little tights slut nearby and available at all times…

Nothing was good enough for Prince Felix, complained Mistress Olwen to anyone who would listen. Whole dishes had to be thrown away because he had changed his mind over the menu, and he complained bitterly that there were no deer to hunt in the forest. He was becoming bored. And a bored Prince, as Alexander well knew, was a dangerous prince. This fact was brought home to him very clearly one morning about a week after the royal party had descended on de Montford Castle.

Alexander received a summons from the Prince’s bodyguard to attend him in his chambers. With a sigh of annoyance, the Steward laid aside the paperwork that had been occupying him, and, gathering up his black velvet cloak around his slim, muscular form, he made his way to the Prince.

He paused outside the grand oak doors of what used to be Lord Geoffrey’s private chambers, and which naturally enough had been requisitioned by his royal godson, and then knocked.

The heavy door swang open, and Ulfgar – the Prince’s bearded servant – acknowledged him with a grunt.

Prince Felix looked more beautiful than ever. His golden locks tumbled to his shoulders and he wore a thickly brocaded red velvet dressing gown. The gown gaped open and Alexander could see that the Prince was bare chested beneath: his pectoral muscles defined, his nipples pink and round and his stomach firm and flat. His hose was as scarlet as the gown, with golden embroidery around its waist, and it encased Felix’s muscular legs and bulging groin with indecent sensuality.

“Steward,” he said, shortly, and his full lips curled in a sneer. “What took you so long?”

Alexander merely smiled patiently. He knew better than to respond to the provocation.

“We’ve ridden out every day in search of sport and there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. No livestock. No deer. No foxes. The tedium is driving me mad.”
Prince Felix clicked his fingers, and Odin – his other servant – appeared carrying a large leather bound book.

Alexander’s composure slipped a little. The tome looked horribly familiar.

“So, I ordered Odin here to see if he could provide me with some other form of entertainment. And look at what he found – on your own bookshelf, Master Steward!”

The Prince smirked at Alexander’s growing discomfort. “I was quite at a loss when I began to read it. It seems to be some kind of a story, but the subject matter is unlike any I have come across before.”

Alexander smiled smoothly, recovering his wits. “There are many books in my library, your Highness. Many of which I inherited from the previous Steward. My duties to Lord Geoffrey leave precious time for reading and I confess I do not recognise this particularly book. If however, its subject matter offends you in any way, I will have it removed immediately.”

He leant forward to take the incriminating volume.

“Oh I’m not offended, Alexander,” replied the Prince. “Merely intrigued. And if you have not already done so, perhaps you should read some of it.”

“If my Lord wishes it.”

“Oh I do. And I’ve decided that in lieu of any other form of amusement, I should like to hear you read it aloud for me.”

Alexander hesitated. The Prince was notoriously priggish. Rumours abounded that he had never had sex with anyone, either male or female: not due to any kind of religious morality, but rather because he genuinely believed that no other human being could compare to him physically or deserved to be allowed to touch his royal cock. Nevertheless, the story was one of the most erotic and depraved in Alexander’s library. Was this all an elaborate trap to disgrace him in the eyes of the King?

“You’ve been given a royal command,” growled Odin. “Prince Felix wants to be entertained.”

“Of course. If his highness is sure…”

“Oh I’m quite sure,” the Prince said. “I’ve even marked a place for you to begin…”

Odin handed the erotic book to Alexander.

“I believe the chapter is entitled ‘Seduction of a Prince’”…

Alexander knew exactly what the chapter contained. He had masturbated many times over the contents imagining himself in the role of the Prince’s wicked uncle. He did not know precisely what Felix intended, but Alexander had a very bad feeling about it.

He cleared his throat and began to read aloud.

“ ‘ “Come here, nephew, and sit beside your favourite uncle.”

The handsome young Prince did so, his big brown eyes wide and innocent.

“Yes, uncle.”

His uncle had achieved his wish and had got the young heir to the throne all to himself. The bodyguards had been dismissed. After all –surely they could trust the young prince with his own flesh and blood, couldn’t they? His royal uncle smiled grimly to himself. The lad was distractingly pretty – eighteen years old, short and slim, with a fine silver doublet and pale blue hose that encased his lissom legs.

His uncle was not much taller than the prince, but he was broad and stocky: coarse black hair sprouted from chest, and his eyebrows were low and thick. By contrast, his legs were thick and muscular, encased in shiny, silken black tights. He felt an illicit thrill as his unsuspecting nephew sat beside him on the cushioned divan, and the crown prince’s blue thigh nestled against his own muscular leg. The uncle felt the heat of the youngster’s limb and rested his large, bejewelled hand on the boy’s knee.

“I propose a toast!” he declared. “To you, nephew! May you have a long life and many years as king. I hope you will always find me a true and loyal subject!”

He poured a generous amount of claret into a silver goblet and handed it to the prince. As he did so, his hand slid surreptitiously from the boy’s knee, up the leg to rest on the lad’s stockinged thigh.

“I am unused to wine, uncle,” giggled the prince.

“Then, lad, it is time you learned to drink.”

“Are you drinking, uncle?”

“All in good time. I want to see you drain that goblet first.”

The prince took a deep breath and, as he tipped his head backwards, his uncle’s hairy hand slid yet further up his leg until it cupped the boy’s bulge.

“Uncle!” exclaimed the prince. “What are you doing?”

“Just checking, lad. Your duties when you become king will include producing an heir to the throne. You might as well view yourself as a royal stud machine. For that is undoubtedly what you are. And we need to check that your prick is capable of getting hard and getting some foreign princess fat with squealing brats…”’”

Alexander paused. He realised that the subject matter was becoming dangerously treasonous.

“Why have you stopped?” demanded Felix.

Alexander looked for a sign of how the real-life Prince was reacting to the taking advantage of his fictional counterpart. Was he angry? Amused? Or, dared he dream it, aroused?

But the Prince’s expression remained enigmatic. And his heavy velvet gown was now drawn closed so Alexander could not even see if his hosed cock was responding to the tale.

“Continue, Steward! I’m simply dying to hear how the story turns out…”

Alexander found his place in the manuscript.

“ ‘The uncle squeezed his nephew’s cock through the boy’s tights.

“Mmm,” purred the older man. “No problems there, I should say. That’s a good firm cock if I ever felt one. And it’s getting hard if I’m not very much mistaken.”

The prince’s face flushed with a rosy glow: embarrassment or the effect of the wine? Probably both, decided the older man.

“Come now, lad. You may be a prince, but you’re not too old to come and sit on your uncle’s knee as you did when you were a babe…”

“Uncle?” replied the surprised youth.

But his uncle was gratified to see that the youth’s head was starting to droop and the word was slurred: the drug he had added to the prince’s wine was starting to take effect.

“Come now, lad, don’t you struggle. We know it’s what you want. Come and sit on your uncle’s lap…”

Effortlessly, the wicked uncle lifted the lad round his tighted waist and positioned him on his lap.

The prince tried to protest but he was no match for the brawn of his uncle. “Please, uncle, I’m not a baby anymore…”

The uncle reached around and gave the lad’s hosed dick another squeeze. “I can feel that, lad,” he chuckled. And he shifted the boy’s weight so that the lad’s taut boy-ass was positioned right over his own swollen member. He rocked his groin back and forth so his dick pressed between the tights-covered globes of his nephew’s bum.

“Uncle, please!” the prince protested, and tried to lift himself off his uncle’s lap.

“You stay right where you are, lad.” His hands roamed over the lad’s body, feeling the young, firm body encased in the silken tights: the hard thigh muscles, the bulging crotch, the pert arse. The prince wriggled weakly but his wicked uncle merely laughed. “You know your squirming only serves to excite me even more, boy…”

In one swift movement, the uncle rose to his feet, sweeping his nephew into his arms and carrying him over to the bed in the corner of the room.

“What – what are you doing, uncle?” pleaded the bewildered young prince.

“Hush, lad – or must I silence you, I wonder?”

And with that, he tossed the youth onto the richly upholstered bed. The prince’s eyes widened in a mixture of fear and bewilderment. The uncle clambered on top of him so that the youth was pinioned beneath. Quickly, he took the lad’s wrists and tied one to each of the bed posts so the prince’s upper body was stretched taut.

“Uncle, please!”

“I see you must be silenced, princeling…”

And the uncle smothered the prince’s pert pink lips with his own coarsely bearded mouth. The boy tried to pull away, outraged at the indecency of his own flesh and blood subjecting him to such an assault, but the older man was stronger, more persistent and driven into a frenzy of lust. His lapping tongue probed the young man’s mouth, pushing deeper and deeper into his throat, licking and nibbling and biting at his pale neck, as the prince began to thrash about impotently beneath him.

Eventually, the uncle paused for breath, and giving his captive nephew an evil leer, he reached behind him and pressed two of his thick fingers against the boy’s arsehole. He grunted with desire as he felt the clinging material of the boy’s tights, slightly damp with sweat, give as he pushed his fingers into the royal hole.

“Ahhh!” cried the lad. “What are you doing, uncle?”

“Long ago I decided I would be the man who took your virginity, princeling. Your arse is mine!”

A tear began to well up in the lad’s big brown eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s true, then. You really are that naïve! I hardly thought it possible, but your cosseted life style has led you to this. Very well, nephew! I shall tell you precisely what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to tear a little hole in these fine blue tights of yours. And then I am going to release my giant prick from within the pouch of my hose and I am going to stick it right up your puckered little boy bum. All the way in. It will give me enormous pleasure. To take your cherry. It will feel so tight. So velvety. And I will pound and pound with no mercy until it feels as if your very body will rip in two. You’ll scream, boy. You’ll scream like some dirty little whore. Lying beneath me. Your hands tied to the bedposts, and me fucking you. Fucking you in your tights like some rent boy. Fucking you all – night – long.”’”

18. Seduction of a Prince

“The chapter ends there, your royal highness,” said Alexander.

The room was silent. You could hear a pin drop.

After what seemed an eternity, Prince Felix spoke.

“A most interesting tale, wouldn’t you agree – Odin? Ulfgar? And pray tell us, Master Alexander, how it ends…”

Alexander resolved to stick to his story. “I’m afraid I don’t know, your highness. As I explained, the book does not belong to me. And I cannot say that I have ever read it before.”

Felix rolled his eyes in disbelief. “Very well. Let us for a moment assume that I believe what you say. I shall enlighten you. The naïve young prince in the story becomes the unwilling sex slave of his wicked uncle, who succeeds in taking the throne and keeps the boy as his plaything.”

Alexander shook his head in what he hoped was a convincing display of shock and disgust.

“How am I to interpret the fact that such a seditious book has been discovered in the home of my very own godfather? Whilst I am as undoubtedly as beautiful as the prince in the story, does he also think of me as being as stupid?”

“Undoubtedly not, your highness. The story is just that – a story.”

“Does it arouse you, Master Steward?”

Alexander felt his throat go dry. “I beg your pardon, sire?”

“The book is clearly meant to enflame a certain ardour in men of a particular disposition. The lingering description of the prince’s body: the detail afforded to his sculpted form in the sensuality of his tights…” As he spoke, Prince Felix slipped open the front of his gown and ran two exquisite fingers along the muscular length of his own scarlet-hosed thigh. “I ask again – do the words achieve the aim of arousing you, Alexander?”

For a moment the Steward was genuinely lost for words. He could hardly believe his eyes. Was the Prince actually flirting with him?!

The question hung in the air. The blond Adonis opposite him stared into his eyes and, slowly and deliberately, ran his tongue across his pouting, perfectly pink, upper lip. The Prince brushed one hand across his naked nipple whilst the other moved up from his tights-clad thigh to rest at the bulge between his legs.

Alexander recovered his wits. The risk was too great. He could not admit to the truth: that he found the idea of subjugating the beautiful prince and making him his slave a deeply intoxicating notion. It was treason. The image of the prince from the story merged with the face of the beautiful Felix and became one and the same. The thought that he could dominate and abuse this young man’s body in the way the uncle did in the story nearly caused him to come in his tights right there and then. However, his head won out in the battle with his groin and he managed to stammer out a bare-faced lie.

“The story reeks of perversion, your highness. Had I known such a piece of filth existed, I would have had it destroyed at once.”

The Prince nodded sagely, but Alexander detected a certain disappointment in his eyes.

“The writing is indeed crude, the characterisation non-existent and the dialogue execrable, and yet I wonder if you do not slightly over-react, Master Steward. After all, it is, as you say, only a story.”

Felix’s handsome face lit up with a smile. “I know that you and all here at Castle de Montford are loyal subjects of my father and me. I am quite sure that no one would dare dream of carrying out for real the dreadful and treacherous acts that take place in the story.”

Alexander, struck with relief, also smiled. “I see your highness’ beauty is matched only by his wisdom.”

The Prince paused for a moment to think. “Ulfgar! Odin! Leave us for a moment. I wish to speak with Master Alexander alone.”

The hulking guards hesitated briefly, but knew better than to disobey an order, and bowing low, withdrew from the chamber.

Felix dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you know, Alexander, that, to this day, a salacious rumour persists regarding my noble grandfather, King Edward? He was the greatest warrior that ever lived: an athlete, a scholar, a god amongst men. They say I am his living image. All trembled before him, and a mere word from his booming voice would cause grown men to piss themselves where they stood.”

Alexander nodded. Tales of King Edward the Magnificent had become the stuff of legend.

“And yet, after he died, his mistress confessed that the only way she could ever get him to achieve climax was to dress him in her skirts, spank his bare behind and call him Julietta.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows in surprise. That particular rumour had eluded even the garrulous Mistress Olwen.

“Come closer, Master Steward. Approach the royal presence and kneel before me.”

Alexander did as he was bidden, sinking to the floor so that his face was level with the proud swelling at the Prince’s crotch. Felix leant towards him, placed one hand gently on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“My point is that sometimes the most powerful men have very different needs when it comes to matters of the bedroom. A Titan of a man like my grandfather was sexually excited by the idea of being abused and humiliated in the basest fashion. It was all play, of course. Once he had come, he was once again the lord and master of all. But for a time, what he needed – what he craved most of anything – was to serve.”

Felix’s ringed hand reached out, took Alexander by the wrist and placed the Steward’s hand on his royal prick. There was no questioning it now. His hosed cock was rock hard and pulsing gently beneath the touch of the older man.

Alexander’s mouth felt like sawdust. His breathing, like that of the Prince, was shallow and rapid.

“As I said before, they say I am the image of my grandfather. Perhaps the similarities are even more profound than they realise.”

Alexander gazed into the eyes of his Prince. Their lips were mere inches apart. How he desired to taste their cherry sweetness. “What – what is it you require of me, your highness?”

“The last chapter of the book. You recall it? The one where the wicked uncle achieves total dominance over the prince?”

Alexander nodded mutely. There was no point pretending any longer.

“Read it again. And again. Imprint every last detail on your brain. Then come to my bedchamber tonight at midnight. I shall dismiss Ulfgar and Odin. Do everything to me that the sadistic uncle does to his nephew in that chapter. Tie me down. Fondle every scrap of my flesh. Gorge on the sight of my tights-clad body – supine and vulnerable beneath you. Make me your hosed bitch boy. And use me like you’ve never used a slut before.”

Felix was grinding his groin into Alexander’s hand, and the Steward could not help but respond. His hand began to squeeze and grope that most sacred of objects: the Prince’s erect dick. Both men were panting, sweating, helplessly giving themselves up to their lust.

Suddenly, the door began to creak open. The Prince leapt to his feet, and hurried to the window, drawing the folds of his robe about his muscled form, and concealing the arousal in his tights.

“Your highness,” said Odin, a little uneasily.

“Yes, yes,” muttered the Prince impatiently. “The Steward and I are done.”

The ugly hulks shambled back into the room, and Alexander regained his composure in an instant. He remained kneeling, his head bowed.

“You may go, Master Alexander. But I hope I have made myself clear.”

“Perfectly, your highness.”

“And you had better take that,” Felix gestured dismissively to the leather-bound book, “with you. I have no further use for it. You know what to do with it.”

“Oh yes, my Lord. I shall carry out your highness’ instructions to the letter with regards to this vile and filthy piece of literature. I shall not disappoint. Have no fear.”

Prince Felix smiled knowingly at the Mephistophelian countenance of the Steward. “I am relying upon it.”

“Be wary of him. He’s been in the queerest mood all day.”

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Alexander of course.”

“He’s always in a queer mood, if you ask me.”

Will appeared round the corner and interrupted the whispered conversation between his two fellow page boys.

“Oh, it’s you!” exclaimed Humphrey, the plumpest of the youths serving in the castle. “I wish you wouldn’t creep up on people like that. You scared me half to death”.

“I’m sorry. How was I to know?” replied Will. He felt a little more sure of himself in the presence of Humphrey and Mortimer. It was not surprising that neither had not been selected to fight in the King’s foreign war: one too short and the other too fat. Nor had either page boy participated in the late-night sexual assault Will had been subjected to all those months before, and although they had witnessed both that and his regular humiliating enema sessions in the castle courtyard, they were generally not so cruel as to remind him of the fact.

“Humphrey was just saying that Alexander’s been acting strangely all day,” explained Mortimer, scratching idly at his freckled cheek.

“How strangely?”

“Kind of distracted, and even more irritable than usual.” Humphrey’s chubby cheeks turned crimson. “He said he’d spank my big fat bum. And he’s never taken any interest in it before.”

“Well he could hardly miss it, could he?” sniggered Mortimer. “Your huge green arse leaves a room about five minutes after you do!”

Humphrey’s hands sprang instinctively to cover his hose-clad rump. “Stupid uniform. I don’t see why we should have to be on display in tights every second of the day. It’s all right for you two with your pretty little bottoms. It’s not my fault I’m more well-endowed than you!”

“I’d hardly say that, would you, Will? Do you actually have a cock in your tights there, Humphrey? Or are you completely smooth like some kind of weird changeling?”

Will laughed in spite of himself. It was refreshing for someone else to be the “butt” of the joke for once.

Tears sprang into the corners of Humphrey’s eyes.

“Oh, don’t go crying for your mummy, again,” sighed Mortimer. “I’m only joking.”

“Well I won’t bother warning you next time,” sniffled Humphrey. “And I’ll let Alexander take his frustration out on you however he wants.”

“I don’t think it’s me who has to worry, Humphrey,” said Mortimer, with a sly twinkle in his eye. “I think we all know whose arse Alexander turns to when he wants a bit of amusement, don’t we, Will?”

Yet, as night fell in the castle, for once, the blue-hosed bottom of the junior page boy was not the principal thing on Alexander Courcey’s mind. He had been distracted all day. The enticing prospect of laying his hands on that gorgeous royal body was too intoxicating. And yet, he reminded himself, he must remain wary. Unlike his domination of Darius the slave or the numerous page boys who had suffered under him over the years, this time it was different. In reality, Prince Felix was in control. What was to occur between them was play and pretence. Alexander would have to be careful to remember that at all times, and be especially aware that the Prince was fully enjoying whatever treatment was meted out to him.

He made his way to the royal chambers, his whole body electric with anticipation, and his cock already rock hard and pushing against the delightfully constricting fabric of his silken black tights. The Prince had dismissed his guards, just as he said he would. The door was unlocked. Clearly, the divine young Felix had not had second thoughts about this erotic escapade.

Alexander padded silently through Lord Geoffrey’s study and dressing room until he stood outside the bedchamber, oh so recently appropriated by Geoffrey’s royal godson. He pushed open the door and saw that the room had been decorated with several red wax candles that lit the chamber with a softly seductive glow. Perhaps, he mused to himself, he might find those candles with their melted wax handy later on...

He walked to the side of the massive four-poster bed and drank in the sight of the golden-haired young man, lying asleep – or at least pretending to sleep – beneath the silken sheets. Alexander shrugged off his velvet robe, which sank to the thickly carpeted floor. He removed his soft leather boots noiselessly, leaving him clad in only his softest and tightest fitting black hose. He lifted up the coverlet and slipped beneath it. The Prince’s body was heavily perfumed. Alexander smiled. Soon enough that aroma would be overpowered by the scent of the young man’s sweating body.

Felix was lying on his front, breathing deeply, but Alexander was experienced enough to recognise that the Prince was merely feigning sleep. Gently, he rolled his body on top of that of the younger man. It was an effort for him not to climax immediately as he felt his own naked chest press down on the smooth flesh of Felix’s broad back, and his hosed legs rest on top of those of the Prince. Fantastic, Alexander thought to himself. The Prince was still wearing the same scarlet tights he had sported at their audience that very morning.

Felix stirred slightly beneath the weight of the other man’s body, and as he did so, Alexander began to grind his stiff prick against the bouncy peaches of the Prince’s bottom. It was all he could do to stop himself tearing a hole in that crimson skin-tight material and ploughing his meat up that arse there and then. But no, he thought, plenty of time for that. He pressed down a little more heavily on the prone body beneath him, aware that Felix had started to grind his own hosed crotch against the mattress.

Alexander unstoppered his little glass bottle and pressed it to the nostril of the horny young prince. “Breathe,” he whispered in Felix’s delicate pink ear. “Breathe deep, my nephew…”

The Prince did as he was instructed, and soon Alexander noticed the difference in the young man’s rutting and thrusting. Animal lust coursed through his body as the potion took effect. Setting aside the bottle for a moment, Alexander clamped one hand over the Prince’s mouth, and reached beneath him with the other to grasp the royal crotch.

The younger man began to buck and thrash in the embrace of the older, breathing deeply through his nose as he found his mouth covered, and revelling in the sensation of Alexander groping, squeezing, rubbing at his dick through his bright red tights. The Prince struggled and moaned, kicking his tighted legs in an attempt to free himself.

“You can struggle all you like, your highness,” Alexander hissed in his ear. “You’re mine, now. My tights slave. There for my use. And my use alone. But do, do struggle. I like to feel you struggle…”

Alexander knew well enough the difference between the exertions of a captive who genuinely wanted release, and one who was aroused by the powerlessness of their bondage and who really wanted it to continue. And as he kneaded the tights-covered cock of young Felix, Alexander was confident that the Prince’s resistance was of the latter variety.

So it was with some surprise when, all of a sudden, Prince Felix bucked his body violently and yelled at the top of his voice: “Odin! Ulfgar! Help! Help!”

Everything happened in a blur. Alexander was aware of being hauled off the bed by the Viking giants, and being held in their muscular grip. Prince Felix tossed back his golden locks and sat, bare-chested in the jumble of sheets and blankets. Alexander watched open-mouthed as the Prince’s piercing blue eyes flashed at him, his erect cock still straining against the waistband of his scarlet hose, his breathing shallow and rapid.

“This man has just made an attempt on my life,” he declared. “Take him away!”

The following morning dawned bright and cold, and the castle’s residents chattered away inquisitively, their breath steaming in the draughty Grand Hall.

Will glanced around him at the motley crew of females and old men that were the decimated remains of the household. It was unusual to be summoned like this, especially so early in the morning. Mortimer held forth knowingly on what he expected was the cause of the meeting.

“I imagine the King and Lord Geoffrey have overcome the heathens and they want to let us know that they’re on their way home.”

Plump Humphrey shook his head. “Old Daniel in the blacksmith’s forge reckons he heard a commotion near the dungeons late last night. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good news…”

A hush fell over the assembled throng as the large doors creaked open, and Ulfgar and Odin took up threatening positions either side of the entrance.

“Kneel, peasants!” rumbled the shaven-headed ogre.

“Kneel before your illustrious prince,” added the bearded brute.

Along with all the other servants, Will did as he was bidden, but he sneaked a sideways glance to see the slim figure of Prince Felix sweep into the Hall. He was dressed in a jewel encrusted robe that fastened at his throat with a vast emerald. The gown split from the waist to reveal bright green tights that showed off the contours of his muscular thighs and beautiful backside. A black, feathered cap perched jauntily atop his flowing blond locks. But the expression Felix wore across his chiselled features was grim and humourless.

He took his seat in the throne at the far end of the Hall, flanked by his hulking, black-clad protectors.

“Servants,” he began. “It brings me no pleasure to give you this news. But you must accept it with good grace and in the knowledge that all happens for the best. There are to be some changes at Castle de Montford. I have discovered that your master, the former Chief Steward, Alexander Courcey, is a traitor.”

A shocked gasp ran around the Hall.

“He has, for many years, been fleecing Lord Geoffrey, who due to his over-trusting nature, allowed this scoundrel to please himself. Courcey has run my godfather’s lands entirely for his own benefit and enrichment. And so now I find that Lord Geoffrey is deeply in debt and that dire actions must be taken in order to save the de Montford estates.”

His audience remained kneeling in stunned silence.

“I personally shall oversee the running of my godfather’s lands. And this will involve stringent measures. I am forced to dismiss about half of the current staff, who will need to return to whatever family or dependents they have living. The rest of you will find your life much harder than previously. Your food will be rationed and you will have to survive on mere bread and gruel. This is all I have to say to you for the moment. My devoted servants, Ulfgar and Odin, will issue my instructions to you all, and I expect them to be obeyed in all matters. Also, I order you that the name of the traitor, Alexander Courcey, no longer be spoken in this castle. Any who dare to do so will be treated as sympathetic to him and will be shown no mercy. Do I make myself clear?”

Mumbled assent issued from the stunned castlefolk.

“Good. Now, go about your business. I’m sure you all have plenty to do.”

The staff began to shuffle out of the Hall.

“What’s going on?” whispered Will to his fellow pages. But the other two lads could only return his bewildered gaze.

Odin and Ulfgar swept through the castle like a tornado. The brutish thugs thought nothing of shoving or kicking anyone or anything out of their way as they fulfilled the Prince’s wish for a thorough “inventory” of everything in the place.

Everything that possessed even the meagrest of possible value was confiscated as a contribution to the vast financial deficit which Felix claimed threatened all their existences: jewellery, clothing, weapons, furniture: all were hoarded for the Prince to view at his personal leisure. And no nook or cranny of the castle was sacred.

“Open this bloody door!” bellowed Ulfgar at the unyielding timber barrier that stood before him. “Or so help me I will break it down!”

“Be off with you!” commanded a querulous voice from within. “I’m master of my own quarters and I’ll answer to no one!”

“Is that so?” grunted the Viking. And with all the force he could muster, he charged at the door.

Nothing could have resisted that onslaught, and with a splintering crack, the door gave way and shattered into the room beyond it. The bewhiskered giant gagged almost instantly as he was assailed by a powerful and incredibly vile smell. Covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, he ventured a look into the room.

A shrivelled, little old man sat in the centre of a bed. The sheets were filthy and stained with unidentifiable blotches. The room was littered with fragments of clothing, bits of food, plates, along with a whole host of bizarre and Byzantine objects, the likes of which Ulfgar had never before seen. Some looked like weapons or instruments of torture, with peculiar protuberances, spikes or balls emerging from them. Most were made of iron or steel, although some had leather straps or wooden handles attached to them. In addition, a couple of evil-looking whips and cat o’nine tails lay discarded in the corner.

Along one wall of the tapestry-covered room hung manacles, chains and other restraining devices: ratchets and cogs, tables and platforms that could be adjusted by means of a kind of control panel which lay at the old man’s side.

Suddenly, Ulfgar started at a movement beneath the sheets. Thinking it to be a rat, attracted by the room’s stinking detritus, he raised his dagger to pierce the creature.

“No, you fool!” shrieked the old man. “This one’s got spirit. He has months left in him yet!”

And with that, he pulled back the bedclothes to reveal a young man of about twenty or so, with dark, curly hair. The youth was lying on his front, his hands shackled behind his back and his legs securely bound at the knees and the ankles. He was bare-chested, and his back was criss-crossed with red, angry looking weals. His lower half was naked save for some coarse grey fabric which had been wrapped tightly and fastened around his nether regions to make a kind of loincloth. The nappy was stained, soiled, and stinking, and Ulfgar grimaced in disgust at the realisation that it did not appear to have been emptied of its contents for some time. The nappy and the sheets the slave lay in were spotted with brown and grey greasy marks, as was everything that resided in the hellish bedchamber.

The youth was squirming slightly in his bondage, but unable to move very much due to the fact that on his head was what appeared to be a kind of leather harness. The harness fastened round the back of his skull and then attached to a leather undergarment worn by the old man. Although Ulfgar could not see clearly, the laboured way in which the young man was breathing made him sure that the youth’s head was buried deep in the old man’s crotch, and upon hearing a gagging, wretching sound, he realised that the old man’s penis was clearly lodged deep in the young man’s throat.

It was not a pleasant sight.

“Get out of here, you oaf!” cried the withered old man. “If you have food, leave it outside the door as usual. Don’t you know I have given strict orders not to be disturbed?”

“I only follow Prince Felix’s orders,” grunted the giant. “I’m to report back to him.”

“Well report this: I’m to be left alone with my boy, you understand?” The old man chuckled to himself. “Now, slave – my arse wants some attention. Let’s have you service that for a while…”

He unbuckled his slave from the contraption at his crotch. The dark haired boy slithered backwards down the grimy sheets, coughing and spluttering as the old man withdrew his withered cock from the slave’s swollen lips. Ulfgar caught a glimpse of the boy’s dark eyes – haunted yet still defiant – as he struggled on his stomach to take up his new position at the old man’s anus. Ulfgar’s lip curled in disgust as the old man gleefully clipped the boy’s face harness to the back of his leather undergarment.

The Viking backed out of the room.

“And send someone to fix my damned door!”

Meanwhile, in the near-deserted dormitory, the three remaining page boys huddled together confidentially.

“What do you think Alexander did?” asked Mortimer.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” replied Humphrey. “And if you’re wise, you’ll do what the Prince told you and forget he ever existed.”

“I think it’s an excuse for the Prince to take over running the castle and to do whatever he likes,” ventured Will.

Mortimer appraised his blond room-mate with an amused grin. “I might have known you’d stick up for Alexander. He must have quite a cock. Every lad who gets fucked by him ends up as his willing pet.”

“No, I” – Will began to protest.

“I’m more worried about what’s going to happen now,” said Humphrey. “I just hope I have a roof over my head tonight.”

Will said nothing. He looked down and ran his hand along the silken sheen of his blue hose. He offered up a silent prayer that the new regime would not mean that he would be returned to his previous home: the stinking hovel in his meagre little village.

Prince Felix fondled the treasures that had been deposited in front of him in the Great Hall. The latest chest to be emptied was from the workshop of Master Yorick and contained a vast array of male hosiery – of every colour, fabric and design imaginable.

“The old man said what?” he cried, incredulous at what he had just been told.

Ulfgar repeated Sir Wilfrid’s vituperative command.

The Prince’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Go back to his stinking den. Take his toilet slave from him, and have the boy cleaned up and delivered to Mistress Olwen in the kitchen. In these straitened times, I cannot allow the luxury of a servant waiting on only one person. Then tell the uncouth old fool that he has twenty four hours to gather whatever belongings he can carry and be gone from here.”

Ulfgar looked at Prince Felix with some apprehension.

“You can take that look off your face, man,” snapped the Prince. “I will not be mocked by anyone. What care I that the old fool is the uncle of my godfather? He must learn his place. And by God, learn it he will. Or are you telling me you fear a scrawny old pervert like him?”

“Your wish is my command, your highness. It will be done.”

“Good.”

Ulfgar’s long strides soon carried him from the Hall to see to his unwelcome task.

Prince Felix shook his head. “I had no idea that my uncle had allowed those around him to sink into such sexual depravity. Father will be most displeased when he returns.”

He smiled his cat-like grin and stretched his muscular, green-hosed legs out in front of him, admiring their shape and beauty.

Suddenly he sighed theatrically. “Oh, God, Odin. I’m still so bored! How are we to amuse ourselves in this backwater?”

The Prince’s other bodyguard had his head buried in one of the leather-bound books that had been removed from Alexander’s chambers. He looked up with a golden-toothed grin. “I think I may have found a way for us to have some sport, your highness.”

Felix’s beautiful face lit up with anticipation. “Tell me more.”

“The traitor’s books are undoubtedly illicit but they do have some interesting ideas.” The shaven-headed brute knelt down to examine the pile of tights that had been dumped in front of the Prince. He selected a scrap of bright pink material. “And these costumes will prove very useful, I think…”

Sir Wilfrid’s howls of rage echoed around the castle as he was robbed of his male plaything. Had he been able to walk, he would surely have confronted the imperious young Prince. As it was, all he could do was scream impotently from his detritus-strewn pit.

Will went about out his usual duties, painfully aware that various servants were being issued with the unwelcome information that their service at the castle was to be terminated and they would soon have to make their own way in the cold, cruel world beyond.

He was in the middle of fetching some firewood from the logpile into the kitchen, when a commotion at the door made him turn. Olwen the Cook also looked up to see who had entered. A little nervously, she curtseyed as the towering form of Ulfgar strode into her domain.

The giant was carrying a bundle which he was attempting to hold as far away from him as possible. When he reached the centre of the room, he dropped the dirty grey blanket on the floor.

“See to this,” he snarled at the Cook. “Clean it up and then send it to the Great Hall along with the other three page boys. And do it quick. His highness doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Having abandoned his malodorous burden, Ulfgar was in no hurry to linger.

“What on earth can it be?” enquired Mistress Olwen, wrinkling her nose, and covering her face with a sprig of lavender as she approached the blanket. She peeled back its layers and peered inside.

Will crept up behind her to sneak a look. Inside lay the near naked form of Raymond, his erstwhile nemesis. His face looked grey and gaunt, and his curly dark locks hung damp and limp against his cheeks. His bruised, thin body was naked aside from a full and dirty nappy. Raymond looked Will straight in the eye with an expression of utter loathing. Will’s heart sank. He knew that, whilst things had been bad before, this would only make his relationship with Raymond worse than ever. Raymond would never forgive him for having seen him in this ultimately degraded and humiliated state.

Mistress Olwen had sent Will to fetch a bath and some water, and then shooed him out of the kitchen as she set about cleaning up the broken youth. A mere half hour later, Will found himself anxiously standing outside the Great Hall along with his three fellow pages. Mortimer, Humphrey and he himself wore their usual pageboy livery: orange, green and blue respectively: tunic, tights and pumps.

When it came to Raymond, Olwen had had to improvise. After all, Master Yorick’s vast clothing store had been confiscated by the Prince’s looting session. For this reason, the recently liberated toilet slave was barefoot and dressed in a hessian sack. The sack had been hastily emptied of its contents (muddy potatoes), and holes cut in it for Raymond’s head and arms. The crude smock reached just below his hips and scarcely covered his peeking genitalia, whilst at the back, the hem skimmed his red and sore-looking bottom.

It was plain to see that his time spent in the company of the insatiable Sir Wilfrid had not dimmed Raymond’s spirit. And as the four youths stood in silence, patiently awaiting their fates, Raymond turned a look of utter loathing upon young Will, that made the latter take an involuntarily step backwards.

The doors opened and Ulfgar ushered the four page boys into the Grand Hall.

“Approach the royal throne!” bellowed Odin from the far end of the room.

Tentatively, the youths did so. Will was struck anew by the beauty of the heir to the kingdom: the pale, flawless skin; the perfectly chiselled bone structure; the lithe and muscular body. Helpless, his jaw dropped and he gawped at this vision of beauty before him.

The Prince calmly surveyed the nervous young men, and raised an amused eyebrow at Raymond’s scratchy, uncomfortable, and frankly indecent, garment.

“You are most fortunate, my subjects,” declared Prince Felix. “Your services have been deemed necessary here at Castle de Montford, and, provided you fulfil your duties satisfactorily, you will continue to be given employment and a roof over your heads.”

Will noticed that Humphrey, standing on his right, nearly fell to his knees with relief.

“However, I have been disappointed,” he went on, “with the paucity of entertainment in these parts. And so I am grateful to my loyal and faithful servant, Odin, who has devised a new kind of sport for me. Odin – bring forward the new uniforms for our little page boys…”

The shaven-headed Odin stepped forward, carrying a bundle of pink clothing. Purposefully, he walked along the line of anxious page boys, and deposited one bundle of pink in front of each of them.

“These costumes will better befit your new station in life.”

Humphrey shot Will an apprehensive glance.

“Well, what are you waiting for? It is time for you to get dressed. Strip, boys! Strip!”

Chapter 1 - A Visitor to the Village

Chapter 2 - The kitchen-maid

Chapter 3 - The Steward's Potion

Chapter 4 - The virgin page

Chapter 5 - The Attentions of Raymond

Ordering Blog Posts

Chapter 6 - The Slave Auction

Chapter 7 - From Soldier to Slut

Chapter 8 - A Pole and a Purge

Chapter 9 - Lights out in the Dormitory

Chapter 10 - The Tights Thief

Chapter 11 - The Wheel of Fortune

Chapter 12 - On the Dessert Menu

Chapter 13 - To the Victor, the Spoils

Chapter 14 - The Bird of Paradise

Chapter 15 - Creamed Cock

Chapter 16 - Encased in Tights

Chapter 17 - The Erotic Book

Chapter 18 - Seduction of a Prince

Chapter 19 - Bedroom of Filth