Chapter 24 - Alexander's anal balls

Alexander led the devastated farm hand out into the stables.

“It gives me no pleasure to have to do this to you,” he lied glibly. “But we did make a deal.”

Peter nodded dumbly as he traipsed along, naked save for his clinging tights: his cock remaining inexplicably proud and causing an embarrassing tenting effect in his yellow hose.

“Now, let’s see what else I have in my satchels to use on you, my farmer boy…”

Peter watched, alarmed, as Alexander reached into his bag and produced an instrument the likes of which he had not seen before: a thin glass tube with a hole at one end and a rubber bulb at the other. Alexander congratulated himself on having acquired the portable douche for a bargain fee at the last market he had visited. He’d hardly dared hope to find a use for it so soon!

“Fetch me a pail of water,” he ordered imperiously to one of Peter’s friends. The fake bonhomie had evaporated. He was in the role he was accustomed to adopting – the boss.

Nervously, Rodney pottered off to do as he had been bidden.

“Now, if we’re going to play, my young farm hand, I want you to be clean. Lord knows what filthy diseases you may have picked up from all those animals you work with.”

“Clean, my lord?”

“Bend over that wooden hurdle there. I want your arse high in the air where I can get to it easily.”

“My - ?”

Alexander sighed. “Remember your agreement, Peter. You agreed freely to submit to me. Do you really want me to spread the news that the word of the men of Mickelsfield cannot be trusted?”

Peter shook his head sorrowfully, and duly assumed the position Alexander had demanded.

“Delicious,” murmured Alexander as the two muscular globes of Peter’s bottom rose high into the air, his head dangling beneath his two canary yellow butt cheeks.

“Wh – what are you going to do to me?”

“All in good time, my friend. I’m going to have some fun with you. And you’ll co-operate, won’t you? Or I’ll be forced to fetch the delightful Griselde from behind the bar to witness your humiliation as well.”

“No, please, Sir,” begged Peter. “Anything but that.”

“Then you’ll be quiet and merely submit. Although if I were Griselde, I think I would insist on you wearing tights all day and all night long. Bodies like yours should be on display, not hidden away beneath unflattering smocks.”

Peter flinched as Alexander’s hand made contact with his tights-covered rump, caressing the taut flesh through the fine hosiery. It was a novelty for the Steward to have such a prime specimen of masculinity quivering beneath his touch.

Gently he began to roll down the waistband of the yellow hose to reveal the farmhand’s cheeks, pale against the tanned flesh of his torso. Peter trembled  as his impressive bottom was exposed to the imperious stranger.

“Ah-ha! And here is the pail of water – perfect timing!”

The bucket was deposited on the floor, and Alexander squeezed the douche’s bulb to fill it with the cold fresh liquid.

“This will feel strange,” he warned the nervous young man. “But it’s not necessarily unpleasant. Some men even find they are aroused by the stimulation of being douched. Although it’s clear from the bulge in your tights how much you’re enjoying this predicament – whether you know it or not.”

Peter shook his head adamantly. “I don’t understand – why?”

“Best not to fight it,” came the patronising reply. “Sometimes we are turned on by things we never even knew we needed.”

Alexander applied a little grease to the tip of the douche and then slowly inserted the device between those inviting arse cheeks. Peter shuddered as his hole was invaded for, what Alexander imagined was in all probability, the first time in his life.

“First time, eh, boy? Don’t tell me you’ve never been tempted to diddle your boy cunt whilst having a wank?”

Alexander placed one hand on Peter’s sweating back, as if calming a skittish colt.

“Now I’m going to fill you up, boy,” he whispered. “Nice clean water to flush out your dirty hole. Are you ready?”

As he squeezed the bulb, the water flooded up into the hunk’s body.

“No – please – no!” begged poor Peter.

Alexander turned to look with contempt at the farmer’s yokelish friends. The two bumpkins were clearly ashamed to see their idol forced into such a humiliating position, having his bottom fondled and filled by another man.

The douche delivered three more doses before Alexander decided that sufficient liquid had been deposited up Peter’s backside.

“Hold it in now, boy,” he warned. “I don’t want to see you embarrassing yourself any further by spilling any of that water.”

Alexander picked up the wooden pail and tipped out the remainder of the unused water. Then he tossed it to Martin. “You. Come round here.”

Stepping to one side, Alexander instructed the overwhelmed young man to take up a position about four feet behind the hurdle over which his friend was currently bending.

“Your task is to catch the shitty water Peter here expels. I need hardly point out to you that you will not want to miss any – especially if it splashes onto you.”

Martin gulped in apprehension at his allotted task.

“Very well, Peter. You may release your bowels. Get rid of all that nasty water inside you!”

Alexander smiled as he watched Peter’s face flush a deeper shade of red: whether through shame, exertion or the fact that his upper body had been hanging upside down for some time, Alexander neither knew nor cared.

Peter screwed up his eyes and, with some relief, water began to squirt from his puckered butt hole. The fluid arced through the air and Martin shuffled forwards to try and catch it before it splattered to the stable floor.

“What a sight you are,” crowed Alexander. “Shooting dirty water out of your arsehole for your friend to catch in a bucket! Maybe we should set you up in the village square as a kind of water fountain. The whole village could see their resident strongman reduced to spraying water from his man cunt!”

Eventually, Peter came to a shuddering, quivering halt as he finished emptying his bowels. The reluctant water carrier, Martin, stumbled over to join his other friend at the side of the stables: a look of intense distaste on his face. Alexander saw that the farm hand had not been entirely successful in his endeavour to catch all of the water expelled by Peter, and there were damp patches on his hessian smock.

Alexander was unconcerned, however. Instead, he crouched down so that he was level with where Peter’s head dangled.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? After all, I could have done almost anything to punish you, couldn’t I? I could have cut your balls off. One little purge like this is nothing for a brave young man like you, surely?”

The farm hand started to lift his head, clearly believing his ordeal was at an end.

“You must submit to me for the whole evening,” Alexander reminded him sternly. Peter’s head drooped in despair. What further humiliation did this domineering devil have in store for him?! He was to find out before long as Alexander withdrew yet more items from his pack. A looking-glass about three foot long was produced, followed by a fabric bundle tied with a pink ribbon.

“Come over here,” ordered Alexander.

Peter rose gratefully and began to pull up his tights around his damp bum.

“Oh no. I didn’t tell you to pull up your hose, did I, boy? You keep that proud, bouncing cock of yours on full display now. I want your tights left precisely where they are.”

“Now,” he went on. “Down on the floor with you. I want you in the straw, sitting down with your legs stretched as far apart as you can. I want to see your hosed toes pointing to the two corners of this stable.”

Alexander placed the looking-glass against a wooden post.

“I want you to see every moment of this, so the image of your humiliation is forever emblazoned on your memory, boy.”

“Why – why are you doing this?”

“Because it amuses me, boy. And because I can.”

Peter helplessly did as he was bidden, his bare bottom resting on the prickly straw. He flushed to see himself in this embarrassing predicament: naked apart from the tight-fitting bright yellow hose still covering his legs like a pair of stockings. His thick uncut cock still resolutely pointed towards the ceiling, red and throbbing – inexplicably so to the poor, humiliated farmer. He looked up at his friends, the respect they once had for him slowly ebbing away.

“You heard me!” snapped Alexander. “Point those little toes of yours now, bumboy…”

“Please, no more!” begged his victim.

Alexander ignored him, and instead, placed the fabric bag down beside the handsome young man. He untied the ribbon and the spectators were finally able to see what was contained within.

With a flourish, Alexander produced a long rope of twisted leather. At intervals along the rope hung a heavy leather sphere – four in all. The leather ball at one end was maybe two inches across, with the diameter of each globe increasing until the final one was fully five inches wide.

The uneducated fools gawped in confusion, clearly failing to understand the implications of the toy. For Peter, at least, realisation dawned as Alexander knelt in the straw, his luxurious grey tights resting alongside, almost touching the yellow silkiness of his slave’s hosiery.

For a second time, Alexander withdrew the small pot of grease from his jerkin, and coating a couple of fingers with the pungent lard, he reached between the sweating arse cheeks of the farmhand. Smooth, he thought to himself. Barely a hair nestled in the obscene crack between those beautiful bum cheeks.

Alexander looked deep into the boy’s eyes and saw his victim flinch as his long finger stroked the puckered flesh of Peter’s anus. Tense and frightened, the muscle was squeezed as tight as tight could be. Delicately, Alexander deposited a coating of gloop around the sphincter. And then gently, almost tenderly, he began to push his middle finger into the hole.

“Ah – ah – ah!” gasped the masculine specimen.

“Just my finger, pushing its way into your boy pussy. And it’s only the beginning of how I intend to truly possess you…”

More grease was applied, so that now a liberal coating of gunk nestled in Peter’s arsehole. His two friends seemed horrified and fascinated in equal measures by the humiliation of their one-time idol. And Peter’s helplessness increased as by now, a small gathering of onlookers from the inn had joined to partake of the view.

“Onto your back,” ordered Alexander.

The farmhand reluctantly shuffled to lie in this new position.

“Now, lift your feet off the ground and tuck your knees against your chest.”

With a deep, ragged sigh, Peter did as he was bidden. And as his hosed thighs came to rest against his broad and sweating chest, he knew only too well just how exposed and vulnerable this left his arse.

In his deepest and darkest fantasies, Peter had imagined the perky Griselde in this very position: sluttish and feminine, ready to open to him and his thrusting ardour. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would face the public humiliation of adopting this pose himself, naked saved for the silkiness of these hateful yellow tights, now pulled down to just below his arse cheeks. And still, his fucking, fucking prick was as rock hard as ever. Could it be that on some demeaning level, he actually desired to be used in this depraved and devastating fashion?

The stranger must be some kind of powerful wizard, Peter reckoned, to have achieved mastery of him with such ease. Peter looked up to see the dark Mephistophelean features of Alexander gazing upon him, ill-disguised lust written across the older man’s face.

And then, the sensation began. At first, it was a dull pressure at Peter’s arsehole as the smallest of the leather spheres was pushed against his tensed sphincter. He gritted his teeth. The humiliation, the subjugation, the pain was too much. He could not allow this devil to invade his body with this obscene sex toy.

But the pressure was relentless.

“Don’t fight it,” whispered Alexander. “Open your arse to it. Take it. One way or another it’s going inside you. You may as well co-operate.”

“No, no. It’s filthy. It’s wrong.”

“I know a way to make it feel better,” cooed the older man.

And then an odour unlike any Peter had ever smelled assailed his senses as Alexander pushed his little glass bottle under the farmhand’s nostrils.

“Breathe. Breathe deep, bitch.”

The hulk of a man had no choice but to do as he was bidden, and as he was flooded with the intensity of lust, his breathing deepened, his heart pounded and all his senses swam. And sure enough it did become easier to accept the intrusion into his arse. He felt himself begin to stretch as Alexander continued to push the gunk-coated ball into his bumhole.

“Ah – ah – ahhhhhh!” he gasped.

“That’s right,” purred Alexander as he watched with pleasure as the circumference of the ball began to pass through the straining portal of his victim’s pink anus. “Take it, boy. Take that ball deep inside you.”

And then, finally, the ball had passed its widest part, and, all too eagerly it seemed, was sucked through Peter’s hole. A desperate, ragged cry escaped his lips at the sudden shock of the intruding leather ball, nestling now within him.

“Mmmmm, your hole is hungrier than I thought, boy… You will find it easier now to take the next one.”

“The … next …?” stammered the trembling farmhand. He had already begun involuntarily to lower his muscular legs.

“No no no,” admonished Alexander, “you are to keep your tights-covered legs high in the air just like that: a slutty whore, displaying your wares for all to see - and to mock.”

The dastardly potion was again forced under Peter’s nose and again he felt its erotic powers coursing through his body as he lay there, naked save for the yellow tights pulled down to his knees. The damp crotch of the garment taunted him, mere inches from his face. He writhed in impotent, delicious torment, as the potion worked its aphrodisiac charms on his unwilling mind and body.

            Then, all Peter’s attention was once again forced to focus on his arsehole as the second, slightly larger leather sphere began to be pressed against his puckered boy pussy. His anus stretched more quickly this time, and then, he realised with horror, that the evil stranger was reaching between his legs to play with his still-hard cock.

            “No, no, please, no,” he begged, his mind swirling and whirling.

            “Come now, bitch. Your prick wants this sooo badly, doesn’t it?”

            He was his arse. He was his cock. That’s all the gorgeous young stud could think of as Alexander manipulated both, and a little ripple of laughter ran around the small crowd as the second of the heavy leather balls disappeared up his rectum.

            “Oh! Oh!” Peter gasped as his asslips closed again. But they were to be offered no respite. Alexander gave a couple more tugs on his victim’s pecker, and then began pushing the third ball into the young man.

            And this one was wider still.

            “Push, bitch. Push your arse out as if you were taking a shit,” advised the stranger in his deep, silky tones. “That’s it. Now – grab those muscular bum cheeks and spread them for me, pull them apart. We need to make sure you take all my toys up your mancunt.”

            His will to fight utterly spent, Peter did as he was ordered, spreading his arsecheeks wide to try and accommodate yet another wicked invasion. As the newest ball began to push inside him, he felt the other two jostling, protesting inside, as if unwilling to allow yet another intruder to join them inside the warm wetness of his arse.

            But Alexander was not to be defeated, and with a triumphant grunt, the third ball joined its fellows in Peter’s overcrowded anal cavity.

            “Feel full, now, I bet, don’t you bitch?” the older man gloated.

            Peter whimpered his concurrence. The heaviness of the balls deep inside him were incredibly uncomfortable. He wished nothing more than to be allowed to empty himself of them.

            “And yet we still have the biggest brute to go!”

            A cheer went up from the crowd. Starved of entertainment, the public spectacle of the handsomest man in their village, humiliated and laid low before them, grovelling in the straw, naked save for some skimpy yellow tights, his arsehole on display for all to see - this was the event of the century for these yokels.

            For a final time, Alexander administered the potion to his unwilling victim: “Breathe deeply, now. Take it deep inside you. It’s the only way you’ll succeed in taking the final toy…”

            Overwhelmed by sensation, Peter’s arse was raped by the final and largest globe. He never knew his hole could stretch so wide. He whimpered, wriggling his toes in their yellow tights, beads of sweat breaking out all over his body, and leaving the indecent, clinging material damp and translucent against his tanned flesh. Wider, wider, his ass stretched. He moaned and cursed. Surely his body could not take any further invasion? He would split in two!

            And suddenly the pressure stopped, and with a sucking, shuddering sound, he realised Alexander was done.

            “You disappoint me, boy,” tutted his new master, as Alexander tipped the looking glass to show Peter the sight that all in the barn could see.

            There the beautiful farmer lay, red-faced and dripping with sweat. Cock proud and swollen, yellow tights clinging to his legs. And there at his hole, he saw the black leather ball lodged in his still-gaping anus, the overcrowding in his rectum refusing to allow any further invasion from the obscene sex toys.

            “You have failed me, bitch. You have not taken all four of my anal balls. So what on earth am I to do with you now?”