Chapter 22 - Jingle Bells

After his night in the kennel, Will was determined that he would not be the loser in the latest perverted challenge Prince Felix had invented for him and his fellows.

He had seen the way the Prince and his lackeys had treated the Steward. If they dared to do that to Lord Geoffrey’s right hand man, who knows what they would do to a peasant boy like him? If nothing else, Will had learned from Alexander what a man wants to see from a cute boy in tights, and so now he wasn’t slow to display his knowledge.

From the corner of the room, Ulfgar began a steady drum beat that made Will’s heart thud. As the drum pounded out its hypnotic beat, Will slowly started to push his ass out towards his eager audience. He imagined Alexander’s evil potion was coursing through his veins, encouraging him to be the tights-wearing slut he knew the Vikings wanted him to be.

He bent his knees so his ass stuck out even further, his hands resting on his hosed thighs and his head bowed, in a position of lustful submission.

“Stay on your stools, bitches!” ordered the Prince. “Any of you who fall will be penalised!”

This was easier said than done, thought Will. The stools were not particularly stable and the chamber’s floor was uneven. As he sashayed his butt from side to side, he risked a look at the other three young men. Mortimer was distinctly uncomfortable, making a half-hearted attempt to sway from side to side in a manner that was more ridiculous than erotic. Raymond meanwhile seemed to have switched into a different mode altogether and was contorting himself into a variety of erotic poses, tweaking his nipples, licking his lips and moaning suggestively. He teasingly ran his gloved hands up and down his pink, hosed thighs, and stroked his ass cheeks invitingly. Clearly this was where Will’s competition lay in this particular contest!

Suddenly, a clattering sound from behind him made them all turn – only for them to see that Humphrey had fallen from his stool and was sitting on the floor on his ample bottom, his lower lip trembling.

“Carry on, sluts!” called out the Prince. “Work those nubile young bodies for some real men!”

Will watched as Humphrey clambered gracelessly back on to the wobbling stool. Then Odin strode over to the undulating Raymond, and attached one brass bell to each of the page boy’s nipples. The pounding of Ulfgar’s drum joined with the tinkling of the bell, and the sound made Will double his efforts, determined not to lose to Raymond yet again.

  Taking his lead from his rival, Will knelt down on his stool, pushing his hosed bottom out, and reaching behind to spread his cheeks. Then he took one hand and smartly began to spank his tights-covered backside with his own hand. This seemed to be appreciated by the crude barbarian. Before long, he found his tits being fondled through the pink silk of his bodystocking as Odin clipped bells to each of them. The tiny jaws of the clip sank into Will’s boy nipples. He gasped at the stinging sensation, which made the Viking grin.

Will got on to his feet, the bells tinkling at his breast, placed his hands on his hips and began to thrust his groin back and forth. He pulled at the bells attached to him, causing him to gasp again at the painful sensation of his titties being stretched. He was rewarded with more bells: two attached to his balls, and a third clipped onto the head of his cock – inevitably rock hard through the satiny leotard.

The feeling of having tinkling bells attached to the most intimate and sensitive parts of his body served only to accentuate Will’s humiliation. He wriggled his hosed bum and the awareness of the bells made him feel sluttier and more objectified than ever.

What would his parents and his older brother think, he wondered, if they could see him now? Dressed head to toe in a clinging pink bodystocking, with just a gap for his face to peer through! Dancing for the sexual pleasure and arousal of two brutish bodyguards, with no thought for his own dignity or self- respect. His face flushed a deep red with the shame of what his time at the castle had brought him to.

“Enough!” called out Prince Felix. The drum-beat stopped in an instant, and Will froze in the obscenely sexual position he was currently adopting.

“Step down from your podia, worms, and we shall see who has been awarded the most bells – and who has the least.” He paused dramatically. “Well, it seems that our dark-haired worm has been the most alluring.”

Will looked over to see Raymond looking deeply smug: if indeed it is possible to look smug whilst wearing an all-in-one pink tights suit, with bells dangling from one’s ears, nipples, cock and balls. Meanwhile, Mortimer had somehow managed to secure one solitary bell, which dangled pitifully from his cockhead. Humphrey had none.

The fat boy’s devastated face said it all. Clearly the only thing on his mind was the prospect of going another day without food.

The Prince realised the same thing. “Don’t worry, my plump little worm. We would hardly be so unimaginative as to give you the same punishment two days running now, would we?”

Humphrey breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“No, Mistress Olwen shall have instructions to feed you as normal. Indeed, you will have a little supplement to your usual meal.”

Odin stepped forward with a long brown glass bottle, half full of some kind of cordial.

“This contains a powerful laxative,” growled the Viking. “I will administer it to you after you have eaten your evening meal. And I will make sure you drink every last drop.” He laughed at the boy’s desperate expression. “You’re going to have an explosive evening – and I don’t imagine you’re going to be getting much sleep either!”

Ulfgar joined in the laughter. And although Prince Felix’s lip curled, his delicacy offended by the thought of the page boy’s basest bodily functions, he clearly could not help but gain some sadistic pleasure from Humphrey’s obvious distress.

The day’s entertainment over, the four page boys were dismissed, although Will, Mortimer and Raymond were instructed to leave their decorative bells attached to whichever parts of their stockinged bodies they had been secured. The young men, jingling as they walked, hurried away from their torture chamber.

Odin looked towards his master, with lust and hunger in his eyes.

“What is it?” snapped the Prince. “Oh I see. You’re all fired up, now, are you? Imagining what you’d like to do with those slutty little bitches. Well we’ll see. Perhaps you will get some satisfaction.” He added airily, “If I decide you’ve deserved it.”

Odin gritted his teeth in a wide grin and bowed low before the Prince. “Your merest whim, is, as ever our command, your highness.”

“Quite,” sniffed the Prince. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

The pages had all the regular chores to perform around the castle: more so than ever, following the exodus of cleaners, maids and old faithful retainers. Those few who did remain gawped openly at the four lads in their unitards; bells jingling from cocks, balls and tits.

They arrived in the kitchen that evening to receive their meagre rations and Mistress Olwen rolled her eyes at their appearance.

“Downright indecent it is,” she muttered. “All my girls sent out into the world too. And whatever you might think of him – Lord Geoffrey’s own uncle – a man in his eighties and a cripple – turned out into the street. It’s not right. Mark my words, there will be a reckoning.”

Raymond looked up at her from his bowl of gruel. “That bastard deserves everything he gets,” he hissed.

Mistress Olwen clamped her hand to her mouth in shock. “I’m surprised at you, young Raymond! Talking about your betters like that.”

“That repulsive creature is certainly not my better.”

The cook tutted to herself. “Well I’m not making excuses for the state you or any of the other boys end up in after serving on Sir Wilfrid, but even so…”

An awkward silence descended on the gathering at the table.

“And anyway,” Olwen said finally. “It’s not just him, is it? Your poor, sweet sister has been abandoned to the cruel world out there, as well, hasn’t she?”

“Jane will manage,” said Raymond, tersely. “She’s not as fragile as she looks.”

“You’re a callous boy, Raymond.”

“And you are a foolish old woman who needs to learn that the tide has turned and that your loyalties, indeed your very life, depend on the favour of Prince Felix. And if you allow your tongue to grow as flabby as your backside with all your gossip and complaining, then you are even more stupid than I took you for. And I predict your life will last no longer than that of the traitor Alexander Courcey!”

Mistress Olwen’s face turned purple. She spluttered, incoherent with outrage. She was saved from having to reply to the impudent page boy by the sudden appearance of Odin the Viking at the kitchen door.

“What a quaint little scene,” boomed the ogre. “Mother hen and her four wriggly worms!”

The buxom cook recovered herself and dropped into a curtsey. “You are here for his Highness’ supper, Master Odin?” she simpered.

“Indeed,” came his terse reply.

“You should let one of the page boys carry it up to the Prince.”

“Out of the question. Prince Felix’s meals must be tested. We would not trust such as these to carry his highness’ food to him.”

“Tested?!” squawked the cook. “I have fed kings and dukes and I have never” -

She stopped short. Raymond’s warning suddenly seeming all too apposite.

Odin raised his eyebrow, and Mistress Olwen bustled off to fetch the tray of delicacies she had prepared for Prince Felix’s repast.

Then came the moment Humphrey had been dreading. “Time for your medicine, fat boy,” Odin whispered menacingly.

Moving remarkably swiftly for a man of his size, in an instant, Odin had one arm around Humphrey’s plump neck as he produced the bottle of cordial and unstoppered it. Humphrey began to struggle, but it was no use against this giant of a man. Odin gripped the boy’s turned up nose between his massive thumb and forefinger, causing Humphrey to take an involuntary gulp of air. And in that moment, Odin poured the entire contents of the bottle down the page boy’s throat.

The liquid clearly tasted vile, and Humphrey coughed and spluttered as he swallowed the thick brown gunk. Drool seeped from the the corner of his mouth, and tears from his eyes.

Mistress Olwen reappeared with a tray replete with fish, chicken, vegetables and sweets. All this, just for the Prince, thought Will to himself. “Here you are, Master Odin,” whispered the Cook in sufficiently humble tones.

Odin took the tray without a word to her. He glanced contemptuously at the whimpering Humphrey. “Have a pleasant evening, fat boy.”

His gaze came to rest on Raymond. “Hmm, perhaps,” he mused. “After all, if you have an itch…”

And with that cryptic remark, the brutish Norselander left the draughty kitchen behind.

Will watched him go and then turned to look at Mistress Olwen.

“And I wager he’ll not eat most of it as well,” she muttered to herself.

The castle felt so empty now at night time, thought Will, as he drew his blanket over himself: back in his own bed at last. Where once twenty or thirty young men slept, reeking of testosterone and dreaming of bedding young kitchen maids, now lay four neutered page boys: all dressed in the sissiest and most revealing of costumes. Living only to serve and amuse the dashing yet pitiless Prince Felix.

Well, strictly speaking, actually only three page boys lay in the dormitory. Humphrey had run to the stinking garderobe about an hour ago, his stomach gurgling worse than ever, clutching his butt cheeks in their pink stretched fabric, and in desperate danger of soiling his pink body stocking. They all knew the fat page boy had a very unpleasant and uncomfortable night ahead of him.

Will lay there in his tights suit, listening to Mortimer snoring gently in the bed nearby. Raymond had taken a pallet as far as possible from the other page boys. Will was fairly certain the dark haired lad was still awake, no doubt plotting his revenge against someone or other: probably Will himself.

The door to the large dormitory creaked open. Will had the distinctly unsympathetic thought that Humphrey should just stay in the garderobe all night, rather than disturbing the rest of them by creeping back to his bed, only to have to make a mad dash to the toilet again moments later. But as he looked up from his bedcover, he saw a very different form to the podgy Humphrey, silhouetted in the moonlight.

Odin caught Will’s eye and looked at him contemptuously. “Go back to sleep, bitch boy. It’s not you I’ve come for – this time…”

The hulking henchman carefully removed his thick leather jerkin, and pulled his belt from around his leather trousers. Discarding them silently on one of the nearby beds, he spat into his massive hands and rubbed them together eagerly. Will was taken aback by the size of the man’s pectoral muscles and his bulging biceps, all scattered with the same black fuzz.

Stealthily, Odin made his way further down the dormitory. Will waited and listened. Sure enough, a startled cry from Raymond confirmed that Odin had come to claim the prize that had aroused him so much that very afternoon.

Will’s mind was racing, and he had no time to spend contemplating his rival’s predicament. He risked a look at Mortimer. No, the red-haired youth was sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware and undisturbed by the intruder.

Will slipped out of his bed. His pink stockinged feet rested gently on the cold flagstones. Cursing the tinkling of the bells that still clung to his nipples and genitals, he hoped only that Odin would be too preoccupied to notice any sounds from the far end of the dormitory.

Will hurried over to where the giant had discarded his jerkin and belt. In a second, he had found what he had been looking for: the massive iron key ring that Odin kept attached to his leather belt. Grabbing it, he moved as quickly as he dared, slipping through the door that the Viking had left ajar.

Who knew how long he had to carry out his desperate scheme? He hurried out into the castle courtyard, his flimsy pink tights suit affording little protection against the chill of night time. He snatched up the wooden bowl that lay discarded outside the kennel he’d slept in only the night before and dipped it into the well, filling it half-full of cold water.

Then, nipples tingling and jingling, he hurried over to the door that led down to the dungeon. Which key? Which key? He thought in his panic. There were so many of them! It could take an age to go through them all, by which time Odin would have finished his rape of the page boy and discover the theft.

Keep calm, he thought to himself. And try to match the key to the lock. He selected a long iron key which looked right, but was too thick for the hole. Will might have found that coincidence ironic had his gloved hands not been trembling with fear. The next one wasn’t right either, nor the next. But then – hallelujah! –  his fourth choice eased in and with a click, the door was unlocked.

Will hadn’t counted on the pitch blackness as he slipped inside the dungeon. The clammy dark consumed him in an instant and he paused at the top of the staircase lest he fall. At the foot of the stairs, the cell’s inhabitant, alerted by the creak of the opening door, called out.

“Changed your mind, have you? Have you come to murder me in the night after all?”

“Please be quiet, Sir! It’s me, Sir, Will the junior page boy.”

            Alexander gazed in amazement through the gloom as, sure enough, the blond lad, accompanied by a weird tinkling sound, began to tiptoe down the stairs.

The page boy offered his old master the water in its wooden bowl, and Alexander slurped at it greedily.

“But how, boy?” demanded the Steward between gulps.

“I stole the key from Odin. It was spur of the moment. I’ve not thought of what to do next but I know I don’t have long.”

“I see. And what is happening out there?”

“The Prince has sent almost everyone out of the castle. He says that you are a traitor who used Lord Geoffrey’s incomes to enrich yourself.”

“That is a lie, page boy.”

“I know, Sir. But what can I do?”

“The risks are great. But there is a chance you may help me. You must go now and lock the door behind you. Remove the dungeon key and then return the key ring to where that brutish barbarian left it. If you manage to hide the key in among your bed sheets, you may yet be able to visit me and bring a little food and water. We can only hope that having locked me away to die, they do not think to come here again, or indeed notice that the key is missing.”

Alexander took a deep breath. “I need hardly tell you of what the consequences will be for you if you are discovered aiding me in this way.”

Will said nothing. “I understand, Sir.”

“Then you must go at once. Visit me again when you can. Perhaps then you can give me the explanation for your latest costume.” He gave a wry grin. “I have to say, it does suit you. Although perhaps the bells are rather impractical for escapades of this nature.”

“Yes, Sir,” mumbled Will, his mind spinning at the audacity of his actions and the danger in which he had placed himself. He turned to leave.

“Wait!” whispered Alexander. “One thing more. Tell me – why? Why are you risking your own life for me?”

Will hesitated. “I don’t know, Sir. I only know you don’t deserve to starve to death like this.”

On an impulse, Alexander grabbed the page boy’s head, encased in its pink hood and pulled it towards his own. Parting the youth’s full pink lips, he allowed his tongue to explore deep into the sweet mouth of the lad. God, he tasted good. And how he wanted those pouting lips on his hardening cock right now. However, the Steward’s common sense was victorious in the tussle with his libido.

“Go,” he said. “Go now. And good luck.”