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!”
