Chapter 20 - Pretty in Pink

Will looked around hesitantly at his fellow pages.

“What are you waiting for?” roared Odin. “You were given a command! Remove your pumps and tunics!”

Humphrey, Mortimer and Will, spurred into action, hurried to do as they were bidden. Will slipped off his soft, black leather pumps, and placed his stockinged feet on the cold grey flagstones of the Great Hall. Shuddering slightly, he reached up, tugged at his deep blue, embroidered tunic and pulled it over his head.

He glanced at the others: Mortimer already stripped to the waist like him, standing self-consciously in his bright orange tights: hands cupped instinctively over his groin. Humphrey was taking longer, reluctantly removing his tunic to reveal his pale pot belly, his posterior looking even bigger than ever – round and plump in the stretched green fabric of his hose.

This was all new to them, thought Will ruefully. Aside from the occasional swat on their arse from a horny knight, neither of them had been paid as much attention as had he in their time at the castle. The humiliating sensation of being exposed, exhibited for the pleasure and amusement of the powerful was all too familiar to Will. The coverage afforded by the thin, skin-tight material of his tights was so slight as to be almost irrelevant. As ever, the tights seemed to make him feel more rather than less exposed: more naked, as they clung indecently to every curve of his ass, legs and bulge.

As these thoughts ran through Will’s head, he felt his cock responding to the erotic situation of being viewed like this, and his wayward prick started to harden and bulge in his hose.

“Now we want to see you as naked as the day you were born, lads,” commanded Odin. “Bend down and pull off your tights. And you – on the end – can take off that sack or whatever it is you’re wearing…”

Raymond seemed almost eager to remove his makeshift tunic. Will was a little scared of the defiance in the dark haired lad’s eyes, and once again, he wondered at what his fellow page had experienced at the hands of Sir Wilfrid. Mortimer hesitated but then apologetically began to roll down his orange hose, exposing his naked arse and genitals to the chilly air in the Hall. Will did likewise, regretfully stepping out of the luxurious leggings and discarding them on the floor. As he did so, he was acutely aware of his naked arse rising up on display for the inspection of both the Prince’s bodyguards, as well as Felix himself.

Only Humphrey remained, shivering and dithering. “Please, your highness…” he stammered.

“Do it, boy!” growled Odin. “The Prince wants to see what kind of pathetic specimens he’s taken charge of. And to do that, he must examine you all as naked as babies.”

Jolted into action by the implied threat in the Viking’s voice, Humphrey fumbled to pull down his tights, nearly losing his balance in the process and almost falling flat on his face. Finally, he too stood naked before the Prince and his henchmen, his dimpled flesh wobbling and goose-pimpled.

“What a sorry display,” tutted the Prince. “Not a decent sized cock amongst you. And fatty here – I can barely even see yours dangling below your gut. You, lad,” he said, gesturing towards Will, “seem to be in a state of some arousal. Does it excite your pathetic little boy cock to be standing naked before your superiors?”

Will bit his lip. Was he supposed to speak? His dick seemed to answer for him, bobbing independently and responding to the verbal dressing-down administered by his highness.

Mortimer’s pale skin blushed a deep red at the Prince’s words, and he instinctively moved to cup his hands to cover his own flaccid cock. Instantly, Odin swatted the boy’s hands away.

“There’s to be no modesty here, lad. You’re all to understand just how fully you are owned by his royal highness.”

The four young men stood trembling with the chill in the Great Hall, exposed in their nakedness in the presence of Prince Felix himself. The Prince chuckled smoothly, revelling in the level of power and control he could exert over the pageboys. Will watched the handsome royal closely. The Prince did not seem to be obtaining any kind of sexual thrill from his absolute domination of them. Fas far as he was concerned, the boys might as well have been insects. And the realisation that that was all they were to him made Will feel even more anxious than before.

“Now,” announced the Prince. “I want you all dressed in something far more suitable for your station.” He gestured to the piles of silky pink fabric at the lads’ feet.

“You heard his highness,” smirked the evil-looking Odin. “Get dressed, boys!”

Will watched as Mortimer and Humphrey eagerly reached for the garments, desperate merely to cover their nakedness. Will bent down and did the same. Clearly the clothing was another specialist item from the skilful Master Yorick’s workshop.

It took Will a moment to work out how to put the thing on, but he quickly realised that the silky, stretchy garment was a kind of bodysuit. Fashioned in bright pink, one had to step into it via an opening in the back. Will did so, pulling the legs of the suit over his calves and thighs. With a frisson of excitement, he realised that, like everything that came from Yorick’s workshop, it was made of the finest material, designed to caress and cling to every muscle and curve of the male form.

There was no chance of his cock softening as the pink silk covered it. The suit seemed to be just a little too small for him, so inevitably the material pulled right up Will’s arse crack.

The sleeves of the suit were gloved, and Will plunged his arms inside, ruching up the remainder of the material over his shoulders. Finally, he pulled up the hood that was attached to the tights suit, and slipped it over his head. There was a hole in the hood so that his face remained uncovered, but otherwise the constriction of the tight fabric, covering every inch of his body was thrillingly erotic. It reminded him all too powerfully of the fabulous sensation when Alexander had encased him in tights.

His thoughts strayed briefly to the Chief Steward. What had become of him, he wondered. Was he alive even?

“Here, boy. Let me do you up.” The gruff voice of Odin broke in on Will’s pondering. He felt the coarse, thick fingers of the towering bodyguard fastening the gap in the back of the suit, so that the entire garment now enclosed him.

The giant traced a finger down Will’s back and rested in the crack of his cheeks. He pushed firmly against Will’s tights-clad arsehole. Ye gods, thought the page boy, his one finger feels as thick as any other man’s dick! Will shook his head at the loss of his innocence. Only six months ago, the only cocks he’d ever seen in his life were his and his brothers’. And yet now he was able to make comparisons between the various penises that had been shoved in his mouth and arse since arriving at the castle.

Will looked down the line to see that the Prince’s bodyguards were busy fastening his fellow pages into their outfits. He couldn’t begin to imagine for what purpose Master Yorick had made these unusual suits, but, sure enough, all four lads were now clad in identical and indecently figure-hugging garments.

At the far end of the line, Raymond, thinner than Felix remembered him, but still with a pert bubble butt and strong thighs, filled out the tights-suit nicely. Next to him, Mortimer fidgeted uncomfortably, unused to the total coverage. His skinnier, more boyish body was not so alluring as Raymond’s, but his obvious discomfort in being on display was clearly providing the sadistic young Prince with some amusement. And at Will’s side, Humphrey looked utterly miserable. His flesh bulged in the skin-tight costume, and he looked for all the world like one of Mistress Olwen’s sausages, fat, ready to be pricked and thrown into a hot pan. Inevitably, Humphrey’s considerable bum had never looked bigger or more exposed.

Prince Felix surveyed the pages in their new habiliments in silence for a moment. Then he exploded in mirthless laughter.

“What a ridiculous sight you all make! Look at you all – look at your fellow page boys! Look at yourselves! Dressed in tight pink bodysuits. Every muscle on display. Your cocks outlined by the silky uniform. You look utterly pathetic. Four little sissy boys dressed all in pink. I trust you feel utterly ashamed of yourselves, cringing before real men.”

Will gulped. Somehow sharing his humiliation with his fellows made it worse. The fact that all four of them knew the Prince was telling the truth about how they appeared and how they felt. A quick glance at the others told him that Mortimer was shifting awkwardly from one stockinged foot to the other. Humphrey sniffed. Raymond bit his lip.

Felix leapt to his feet and approached the suffering youths.

“Although I imagine this is something of an improvement for you, is it not?” he smirked at Raymond. “Rather than sprawling around in your own shit for the entertainment of an eighty year old pervert...”

“And you.” The Prince turned to Mortimer. “You look rather like a little pink shrimp. I can’t imagine anything looking less masculine, can you, Odin?”

The Viking chuckled throatily. “No, your highness.”

“Then there’s this fat one. Looking rather like an overstuffed pasty in his tights suit.”

“And finally – well, we’ve already established that this one at the end clearly gets his sexual thrills by being dressed in a sissy pink bodysuit and leered at by real men…”

Will blushed.

“You’ll notice that Ulfgar and Odin do not wear hose as is the fashion in England. Vikings traditionally wear leather trousers – they believe tights are unmanly, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, your highness.”

The fact that Prince Felix delighted in flaunting his perfect physique in a seemingly never ending supply of tights was clearly going to pass unmentioned, thought Will. He imagined when it came to dealing with the arrogant young Prince, it was wise to agree with him whatever he said, no matter how contradictory it might be.

“These suits are to be your permanent uniform from now on,” Felix declared. “You will continue to perform your daily duties around the castle – and you will need to work harder than ever with the smaller number of staff. You will live, work and sleep in your tights suits.”

“The suits have an ingenious opening,” added Odin. “So you will be able to relieve yourselves of your bodily functions without removing them.”

“In addition,” continued the Prince, “the four of you will report to my chambers at three o’clock in the afternoon every day for … my amusement. Inspired by the literature we have discovered right here in the castle, you are going to partake in a series of challenges. At the end of each day, the loser of the challenge will be punished in some fashion. Depending on my whim.

“So now we’ll give you a little taster of what is to come. Ulfgar, Odin – you know what to do!”

Quick as a flash, Will’s knees buckled and he collapsed onto his front, as the burly Ulfgar pushed him to the floor. Rapidly and expertly, the Viking bound Will’s ankles together with stout rope, and then tied his wrists together in the small of his back. Will watched as the giant did the same to the trembling Humphrey, just as Odin was trussing up both Raymond and Mortimer.

“This is your true place, slaves,” continued the handsome Prince. “Lying on your bellies. Like worms. Little pink worms. Humiliated and degraded before your master. And now to entertain us, we’re going to see you race. I want to see my four little worms crawling to the door of the Great Hall and then back here to my throne. And remember – there will be a punishment for the loser.”

Will shifted his body a little, trying to ascertain the best way to move in this new and uncomfortable position. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Raymond edging forward slightly, determined to gain as much advantage as he could from the start. Trust him to be cheating already, Will thought ruefully.

“Are you ready, little worms? Then crawl!!”

All four pages began to move. Will started a writhing, undulating movement which propelled him forward. It seemed to work, as his strong leg muscles meant that he was already half a body length ahead of the struggling Humphrey, crawling alongside him. Raymond, meanwhile, had rolled onto his side and was already streaking into the lead in the bizarre and degrading race. However, in a moment, Odin had put a stop to that, kicking Raymond’s shoulder so that he fell back onto his hose-covered stomach.

“Stay on your belly, worm!” the giant hissed, and as further punishment, he kept his booted foot pressed down on Raymond, allowing the three other youths to pass him and take the lead.

Raymond rocked from side to side, gnashing his teeth in frustration as he was restrained. Eventually, Odin released his hold on the lad, but by now, the others were practically at the great oaken door and ready to turn for the return leg of the journey.

The Vikings began to clap and to holler as they watched the four pink-clad youths wriggling and writhing on their humiliating journey. Their jeers and laughter rang in the page boys’ ears.

By now, Will had made it to the far end of the room practically neck and neck with the wiry Mortimer. The only thing he had not reckoned on was the effect of all this action on his cock. The friction of his dick rubbing against the divine sheen of his tights suit meant that each time he made an undulating movement nearer to his goal, he was effectively masturbating. For a young man kept in a state of permanent sexual frustration, it was growing all too much to cope with.

Every time his tights-covered bulge rubbed against the cold flagstones of the Hall, he was brought closer to climaxing. No, he thought to himself. Control yourself! The pink material would expose all – and Prince Felix would be only too aware if Will did actually cum inside his tights suit. Concentrate, he thought. Just concentrate and win the race!

He was edging ahead of Mortimer now, and the green-hosed calves of his royal master were mere feet away.

“Come, worm!” called the Prince. “Come kiss my royal boot!”

Humiliated, degraded, Will made a final surge, and as he did so, the pressure of the floor against his rock hard cock overwhelmed him. Just as he collapsed at the Prince’s boot, kissing the soft black leather, his hips bucked over and over, as creamy white cum spurted into the crotch of his pink tights.

The Prince gazed down at the page boy’s two round ass cheeks, humping the floor in the throes of sexual abandonment, and he smiled evilly. The book had promised that a certain type of submissive might become aroused by this treatment. The blond page boy appeared to fall into that category.

Will lay there, totally spent: too ashamed and too nervous to move and expose the wet, damp patch in his tights. His cock was softening rapidly. He was aware that Mortimer had crossed the imaginary finish line just behind him. And risking a turn of his head, he saw that by a supreme effort of willpower, Raymond had somehow managed to overcome his disadvantage and at the last moment, was wriggling his way past a huffing and exhausted Humphrey to claim third place.

Prince Felix surveyed with satisfaction the panting lads grovelling at his feet, all four of them in their sweat-stained tights suits.

“Well, well, well. It seems we have a winner – and a loser.”

Then came the order Will was dreading.

“On your feet, worms. And receive your rewards…”

It was no mean task for the youths to clamber upright. Much scrabbling ensued, and at least once, Humphrey fell on his bottom with a resounding thwack. The Prince and his bodyguards of course did nothing to assist the struggling youths. They merely looked on in amusement.

When all four were finally standing, the Prince approached Humphrey. “So you were the loser, my plump little worm.”

Humphrey, already traumatised from the unaccustomed physical exertion, was trembling in terror.

“But you will find me a lenient master. And as this was your first such contest, your punishment will not be so terrible. Mistress Olwen is shortly to be in need of a new kitchen-maid. You will present yourself as her new maid, complete with bonnet and apron, and you will assist her in all the culinary tasks she sets you.”

Humphrey sighed with relief. He had imagined far worse a punishment.

“Oh – one thing more. You are to tell her that you are to go without food for the next twenty-four hours.”

Even Will winced. He knew just how painful that would be for Humphrey.

“But have no fear, my worms. Future punishments will be far less … mundane than this one.”

“Now you have your instructions. Odin and Ulfgar will untie you now and you may return to your regular duties. You will report to me in my chambers at precisely three o’clock tomorrow afternoon for our next bout of amusement.”

Will’s heart leaped. He was going to get away with it! He dared a look down at the treacherous patch of sodden material at his crotch – that traitorous dark pink stain. Once he was free of his bonds, he bowed low and practically skipped from the Hall. He was almost at the door when the Prince’s clarion voice rang out:

“Wait! The blond worm! Come here!”

With a desperate sinking feeling, Will turned on his heel and walked back to the throne. As he passed him, Raymond glanced at his bulge and sneered at him with a look that said, you deserve everything you get.

The door slammed shut behind his colleagues, leaving Will alone and vulnerable with the Prince and his monstrous bodyguards.

“Well, well, well,” drawled Felix. “It seems that you, little worm, were very turned on by being made to crawl along the floor in your revealing little costume – is that so?”

Will hesitated to reply.

“Answer me!”

“Yes – yes, your highness.”

“And you’ve made it very clear what a dirty little bitch you are by cumming in your beautifully clean pink tights. You really are a perverted little slut, aren’t you?”

Again a hesitation.

“Aren’t you?!”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m not sure if a filthy little animal like you is fit to serve in a royal household. You’re clearly subhuman. More like a dog than a man. So maybe that’s how you should be treated for a little while.”

The Prince clicked his fingers, and Odin appeared with a long leather leash and a leather collar.

The giant snapped the collar around Will’s neck and attached the leash to a buckle at it.

“Back on your knees, boy. For the next twenty-four hours, you’re going to be my dog. You’ll eat like a dog, drink like a dog, sleep like a dog, and piss like a dog – cocking your leg against a tree. And that will hopefully teach you your true lesson in life. I’ll warn you – I don’t treat my dogs kindly. They are beaten and whipped and they learn to cower from their master, do you understand?”

Will gulped in fear. “Yes, your highness.”

The Prince withdrew a thin leather riding crop from the top of his boot and, without warning, brought it down sharply on Will’s pink hosed bottom.

“Owwww!” cried the lad.

Prince Felix tutted in mock annoyance. “Now that’s not the sound dogs make, is it, bitch? Let’s hear you ‘woof’”!

Will whimpered in humiliation. Here he was on all fours, collared and leashed, naked save for a pink bodysuit which clung to him, wet and cool at his crotch and exposing more than it concealed, being made to bark like a dog.

“Woof,” he said feebly. “Woof. Woof.”

Chapter 19 - Bedroom of Filth

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 18 - Seduction of a Prince

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!”

Chapter 17 - The Erotic Book

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.”’”