Chapter 9 - Lights out in the Dormitory

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!”

Chapter 8 - A Pole and a Purge

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.”

Chapter 7 - From Soldier to Slut

            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…”

Chapter 6 - The Slave Auction

           

            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.”