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.”
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