Chapter 28 - Into Chastity and Into a Nappy

“Breakfast is served, your highness!”

Raymond swept into the royal bedchamber, bowing low as he did so and as he knew his royal master would expect.

Humphrey, the fat page boy, followed him in, bearing a tray laden with fruit, ham, bread and, naturally enough, eggs. Humphrey glanced at the young man who had only two days before been his equal, but was now his master.

“Leave them on the side, piglet, and go.”

“Yes, Raym – I mean, sorry, yes, Sir.”

Raymond’s eyes narrowed and Humphrey scurried away fearfully.

“You have taken to your new position quite effortlessly, I see,” laughed Prince Felix, as he lounged indolently beneath his silken sheets.

Raymond bowed again. “I wish only to justify your highness’ faith in me.”

Felix pulled back the sheets, and Raymond gulped to see that god-like body revealed in all its nakedness: the strong, smooth pectorals, the rippling abdominals, the long, muscular thighs, and his perky cock, semi-hard, with a fuzz of blond hair at its root. The Prince showed no sign of self-consciousness. And why should he? His body was the most beautiful Raymond had ever seen.

The blond Adonis ran a hand through his flowing locks.

“I wish to bathe. Run me a bath, will you?”

Raymond nodded. “I will order hot water to be fetched at once, Sire.”

Felix crossed to his wardrobe and began admiring his nude form in the floor length mirror. He pulled open the closet door and touched one of his bejewelled tunics that hung therein. He pulled open a drawer and extracted a neatly folded pair of bright green tights. He let them unroll and held them against his naked flesh.

“May I ask your plans for today, your highness?”

“If the weather is fine again, I shall go riding.”

Raymond hesitated. “Is that prudent, Sire? After the attempt on your life” –

“Ha!” scoffed the Prince. “You think I fear that ragbag of peasants? I am protected by God, remember! He guided you to save me from that murderous fool, and he will do so again if any other evil-doer dares attempt to do harm to my royal person.”

He tossed the silken hose onto the bed and turned to regard his royal rump in the looking-glass.

“Besides, Odin and Ulfgar will have terrified them all into obedience by now.”

            You have to admire his self-confidence, mused Raymond, not to mention his arse.

            “Will you be requiring any ‘entertainment’ from the royal pages today, my Lord?”

            “Ah – are you wondering whether you will be required to don your pink tights suit once again, Steward?”

            Raymond smiled obsequiously at his teasing royal master.

            “Don’t worry. I’m bored of seeing you four grubby youths grovelling before me. And I’ve no further desire to see that young blond one driven into a sexual frenzy from wallowing in his own filth, either.”

            Raymond saw his chance. “Ah yes, Sire. About him… I thought I might personally undertake some further training of that particular brat.”

            Prince Felix raised an inquiring eyebrow.

            “His depravity,” continued Raymond, “is a direct result of the tutelage he received under the perverted Alexander Courcey. I have some ideas on how I can control some of his baser urges and make him a more suitable choice to wait on your highness.”

            The Prince shrugged. “Do with him whatever you see fit.”

            A slow smile spread across Raymond’s face. Oh, he thought to himself, I intend to do just that.

            “Feeling nervous, goat-shit? You should be. If I were you, I’d be feeling fucking terrified.”

            Will had been anticipating this moment, and, now that it had finally come, a peculiar kind of calm came over him. He was standing, head bowed, in Alexander’s old chamber, where he had been summoned by the new Chief Steward of the castle.

            Raymond was dressed in his new finery: black hose speckled with shimmering silver stars, and a black, tight-fitting leather jerkin.

            “I’ve been given the task of dealing with you and your disgusting little perversions, Will. Look at you! Even now your cock is bobbing with excitement at the prospect of a verbal dressing-down from me.”

            It was true, Will realised in anguish. His hard stub of a cock was quite clearly causing an obvious tenting in his bright blue tights.

            “I know the traitor Alexander used to get himself horny at the sight of young men’s cocks bulging in their indecently tight-fitting hose. But I think as a page in a royal household, a little more decorum is in order. Pull your tights down to your knees, boy.”

            Will reluctantly did as he was commanded, his bum in the air as he pulled his hosiery down to expose his naked flesh.

            Raymond tutted. “Still rock hard, eh? This kind of treatment just drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”

            Will inwardly cursed his rebellious dick. Go down, go down, he repeated to himself. Go down, you stupid cock! But it resolutely refused to do as it was bidden.

            “Very well,” Raymond went on. “If the only way to get your prick to soften is for you to come, then that’s what you must do. Get on your hands and knees, goat-shit.”

            Will made to yank up his tights to regain a shred of modesty, but Raymond snapped at him.

            “Oh no, I didn’t tell you to pull your tights up, did I? Come over here and get on your knees!”

            With his hose halfway down his legs, Will could only waddle across the room. And when he had done so, he assumed the position on the floor, his arse sticking up and out, his head hanging low.

Raymond slipped his foot out of his leather boot and pushed it into Will’s face. Will inhaled the musky aroma of the foot, encased in its sensuous black hose.

            “Lick it!”

            Will did as he was ordered, and in that moment, he knew he was a hopeless, powerless slutboy, with no choice or say whatsoever over what happened to him next. His tongue worked over the tights-clad foot, down the side, the heel, pushing between Raymond’s toes until the clinging material was damp with his saliva.

            “That’s all you’re good for, you pussy bitch. To lick my feet!”

             Suddenly Raymond withdrew his foot, and quick as a flash, Will felt its damp touch, resting on his bare buttocks instead. Raymond wiped his hosed foot all over Will’s arse until it came to rest in the crack between Will’s impossibly peachy cheeks.

            “Your boy cunt is going to get some use, now. Never again am I going to be raped by that fucking monster. That will be your place now. To be used by Odin the Viking as his sex toy whenever he fancies a girl to fuck and has to make do with a boy.”

            He pushed his foot deeper so that Will could feel Raymond’s hosed big toe - warm and wet - forcing itself relentlessly against the puckered lips of his asshole.

            “And his cock is a monster, goat-shit. You’ve never felt anything like it. He’ll use you without mercy too. He won’t care if you scream or beg. In fact he likes that. The girlier you sound, and the more you cry and plead, the more it turns him on. He’ll love raping you.”

            “No, Raymond, please, no…”

            “Shut the fuck up, bitch!”

            And with that, the older youth jumped on Will’s back. Will felt the incredibly fine material of Raymond’s tights rubbing against him, as his enemy’s bum rocked back and forth on his lower back.

            With one hand, Raymond began spanking Will’s arse, whilst with the other he reached under and began yanking at the blond page boy’s cock: fiercely and without mercy.

            “You love this, don’t you, slut? Me spanking your bum and milking your cock. Like one of the cows in your father’s barn. I’m tugging at your pathetic little pecker. Breeding you. Milking you. Wanking your dirty little cock till you explode. Tights round your knees. Arse in the air. A fucking filthy little whore boy. And you love it…”

            His touch was rough and callous, but his monologue did the trick, and Will sobbed with relief and humiliation as his cock spurted onto the flagstones: white cum falling in droplets to the floor.

            Raymond dismounted in disgust, wiping his hand – wet with Will’s semen – across the boy’s bum to dry it off.

            “Now,” he remarked. “Perhaps, finally, I can fit you with your new device. Stand up!”

            Will – both sets of cheeks rosy from his climax – pulled himself to his feet as his cock, at long last, began to droop into flaccidity. He turned to Raymond, wondering what fresh torment might next be in store for him, only to see the other youth holding a strange metal device. It was a slightly curved cylinder of steel - a ring at one end and at the other, a narrow slit in the metal.

            “I’d like to introduce you to your chastity cage,” smirked Raymond. “You’ll be spending a lot of time in its company. Let me show you how it works.”

            First, Raymond lifted Will’s balls and pushed them through the steel ring. Then he took the newly soft penis and gently threaded it into the metal cylinder. Lastly, a small padlock was fixed to the chastity device. Will’s lip trembled as he began to appreciate the implications of it all.

            “You’ll still be able to piss through the hole at the end. But you won’t be able to touch your cock. And if you even think about getting hard, it’s going to be very painful for you. The space inside that tube is so tight. You won’t be able to get an erection even! I’m in total control of when - or if - you get to touch your boy prick ever again. I hope you enjoyed that orgasm, Will. It’s the last one you’ll be having in quite some time.”

            “Raymond, please” –

            “It’s Sir to you!” shrieked Raymond, squeezing Will’s balls as he did so. “And think yourself fucking lucky. I could have these whipped off and you’d spend the rest of your life as a eunuch. That would solve your embarrassing problem of getting hard at inappropriate moments with one simple stroke…”

            Will fell instantly silent.

            “Very well. Pull your tights up.”

            Will did so, the strange cold sensation of the metal against his prick, weighting it down, was perturbing. Instantly he found that he missed the feeling of the soft nylon of his tights caressing his genitals.

            “No, no, no,” tutted Raymond. “That will never do. The chastity device gives you a bulge in your hose that is positively indecent. And – to be frank – is more flattering than your pathetic little stub deserves.”

            Raymond peeled the waistband of Will’s blue tights down, so that once again his arse was bare and exposed. Will’s hopes rose. Would Raymond remove the cruel chastity device after all?!

            Raymond paused in mock-contemplation. “I have just the thing!” he announced. And with a flourish, he produced a small bundle of white cloth. Will was not deceived for a moment. Raymond had planned this, all down to the last detail.

            “Stand still, goat-shit.”

            Will did so as Raymond came to stand behind him. With a sinking feeling of dismay and despair, Will felt the cloth being passed between his legs and wrapped around his arse and groin. Raymond pulled the material up as snug as possible, and then pinned it with a large metal fastening. Raymond had put him in a big, padded nappy.

            “Much better!” the dark-haired lad crowed. “Now pull your tights up, bitch, and let’s see what that looks like!”

            He had no choice, and Will mournfully pulled the stretchy fabric back up, only this time it had to stretch considerably more in order to cover the large bulky diaper that he was wearing.

            “You look truly ridiculous, baby boi!”

            Will caught a glimpse of himself in the looking-glass. The sleek and sexually alluring silhouette which had so enticed Alexander was gone. Instead of the scintillating promise of his bulging cock and rounded arse cheeks, was the inelegant and humiliating bulge of the thick nappy. His groin now smooth and flat – his bum inflated and huge.

            “One final touch, I think,” mused Raymond. And he threaded a thin leather belt round Will’s waist. Like the chastity device, he locked it with a padlock. And he pocketed the key in a pouch at his side.

            “You’d better get used to wearing your nappy, goat-shit. You’ll resist as long as you can but sooner or later you’ll have to piss yourself and shit yourself in it. I might choose to let you change it occasionally. If you’re lucky.”

             

            “You look pleased with yourself, Steward. I take it you have had a productive morning?”

            The Prince, now dressed in his bright green tights and doublet, looked up as Raymond entered the royal presence once more.

            “Most productive, your highness. The junior page boy will not be embarrassing himself or you anymore.”

            “I’m glad to hear it.”

            “Did the other pages fill your bath for you, Sire?”

            “They did. It’s waiting for me in the next room.”

            Raymond hesitated. “Is there anything else you require, your highness?”

            “Yes. It’s raining, blast the weather. And I had set my heart on riding out on Thunderer.”

            “I live to serve you, my Lord. But even I cannot command the elements.”

            “I’m aware of that. But I’m in dire need of some physical exercise.”

            The Prince began to unbutton his close-fitting doublet to reveal his smooth and unblemished chest. He flung the tunic on to a nearby armchair and stood there, his upper body naked, his sole garment his impossibly snug green tights.

            “As I was growing up, I would often try my strength in trials against the sons of my father’s courtiers.”

            “Your highness?”

            “Take off that jerkin. Immediately.”

            Raymond did as he was instructed, and soon he was also naked, save for his black, star-spangled hose. His body was slimmer and less well-developed than the Prince. At five years his royal master’s junior, he had not had the same military training. Physically, he was only just recovered from his terrible sojourn in the bedroom of Sir Wilfrid. A trial of strength? What could the beautiful Prince mean?

            “Come here.”

Raymond did as he was ordered. An enigmatic smile played around Felix’s lips as he lifted up an ornate green bottle from a nearby table.

            “Oil,” he explained curtly as he poured some into his palms.

            Raymond quivered in surprise as the Prince walked up to him and began rubbing the thick liquid into his chest. Deftly, the Prince moved onto Raymond’s arms, until all of the new Steward’s torso was well-oiled and glistening.

            “Now, you oil me. It makes for a more challenging contest.”

            Raymond breathed deeply as he laid his oily palms onto the Prince’s golden body. He could not be sure, but he suspected Felix knew just what a devastating effect his beauty and his close physical proximity was having on his servant. Raymond desperately wished to linger over the Prince’s pert pink nipples as he brushed the oil across them. He was longing to pinch and tweak them as he did so, but he controlled himself, and stuck to the job in hand, although his cock was pulsing in his fine black tights.

            “The winner is he who gains submission from his opponent,” whispered the Prince conspiratorily. “Now, let us wrestle!”

Chapter 27 - Midnight Flight

“It was easier than I thought,” whispered Will, as he unwrapped the iron file from a hessian cloth. “Everything’s chaos because someone tried to kill Prince Felix today.”

Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Did they now? So the people are revolting at last. Much as it would grieve me to see the end of that pretty arse, I can’t help wishing the spoiled little shit had met his maker today.”

“He’s been locked in his chamber with Raymond ever since. Raymond saved his life apparently.”

Alexander sighed. “I always knew that boy was trouble. What about those two Viking idiots?”

“The Prince is furious with Ulfgar for not spotting the danger. He’s sent both of them out to terrorise all the nearby villages. He told them to stay out until they’d visited every place within fifteen miles of the castle. It’s all quiet as can be out there in the castle.”

“Well that’s good news for us at least. It means we’re not likely to be disturbed. Now let me get this damned manacle off my wrist – and then I believe my cock has a long overdue appointment with your bum, my lad…”

Alexander’s lust drove him on, and in his eagerness, it was not long before he had filed through the iron shackle. It fell with a clank to the dungeon floor.

“I brought you some new tights, Sir,” whispered Will meekly.

Alexander clasped the lad’s shoulder in gratitude, and began to roll his old pair down his strong legs. Will watched in fascination. He had never seen Alexander strip in front of him before and it seemed to him that this was to be a rare moment of intimacy for the two of them.

As if reading his mind, Alexander looked at Will with a wry expression.

“This is - original, isn’t it? My standing naked in front of you?”

Will had to admit he was impressed by what he saw. In spite of the days he had spent imprisoned in the dank dungeon on the most meagre of food rations, Alexander remained a damned handsome man. His chest had a light smattering of dark hair which ran down his washboard stomach and covered his tanned and lithe legs. His beard was now a little unkempt and he smelt strongly of masculinity, but if anything, Will wondered if he did not prefer this rawer version of the Steward.

“Let me see those tights, boy. I want to feel them against my skin as I fuck you.”

Will did as he was ordered and handed the cleanly laundered hosiery to his former master.

“Royal purple, eh?” mused Alexander. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say that was an attempt at irony.”

Will’s face creased in a frown of bewilderment which made Alexander chuckle to himself.

He lifted the beautiful garment to his face and breathed in deeply the intoxicating aroma of fresh hose.

“Dress me in them, boy. Dress your master in his tights.”

Alexander stood with his naked back against the wall of the dungeon and lifted one foot. Will immediately knelt before him and, leaving the other to dangle, ruched up one leg of the tights. He held the hosiery open and the older man slowly and purposefully inserted his foot. As ever, the feel of the material against his skin made Alexander’s cock stiffen. He lowered his stockinged foot to the floor and lifted the other. Will repeated the motion, making tiny adjustments to the material so that it encased his master’s feet to perfection. Alexander wiggled his toes in the tight-fitting garment.

“Nicely done, boy. Now pull them up.”

Will did so, as slowly and delicately as he could in order not to tear the fine fabric of the hose. Over Alexander’s shapely calves, past his knees and up, up – encasing his strong thighs in the shimmering purple material. And then, finally, he found his face level with Alexander’s heavy, bobbing penis.

“Kiss it, boy. You know you want to. Kiss your master’s proud cock.”

He did so, taking the long and beautiful prick between his pink lips, and swirling his tongue round the head in the way only a truly passive slutboy can.

Alexander let out a deep, shuddering sigh as the boy’s ministrations had their effect on his swollen meat. He grasped Will’s blond locks and forced his dick deeper and deeper into Will’s gullet. A few more moments like this and he would come, he knew.

“Not like this,” he hissed. “I don’t know whether I will get another chance to use you, lad. If this is to be our final time together, I want my cock up your sweet boy hole.”

He pulled his prick from the boy’s wet lips, and lay down in the straw of the dungeon.

“The surroundings are not as fine as the first time I fucked you, boy, but they’ll have to do.”

Alexander spat on his hands and rubbed the saliva on his throbbing cock.

“Come, bitch. Come and sit on my meat. I want it all the way up you.”

Will lowered the waistband of his tights to just below his buttocks. He knew from experience that Alexander would want to be able to stroke his legs through their hosiery as he used him. Squatting over his master’s jutting prick, Will teasingly began to lower himself onto the skewer.

Alexander reached up, and with a wet finger, began to push and poke at Will’s puckered rosebud.

“You’re ready for it, slut, aren’t you? Ready to take my cock all the way to the hilt.”

“Yes, Sir. Fuck me. Please, Sir. I beg of you.”

Alexander marvelled at the change in the lad since he had first taken his cherry all those months ago. The protestations, the struggle, the determination that he was only undergoing these deeply personal humiliations for the sake of saving the pretty little kitchen-maid with whom he had been briefly infatuated.

And look at him now! Gasping like a well-practiced whore, as Alexander’s rigid cock slipped inside his arse. Sinking down gratefully onto it, shuddering as his master’s considerable dick made contact with the nub of his prostate.

“Bounce, boy,” Alexander said firmly. “Let me see you bouncing on my prick. Show me just how much you are enjoying it!”

Will did as he was instructed, although it made his poor thigh muscles ache even more. He felt Alexander’s hands all over him, stroking his tights-clad legs, and panting with the pleasure of the tightness of Will’s anus.

All the way up he went, so that the helmet of Alexander’s cock nearly popped out of Will’s bum, and then plunging down again, again all the way, so that Alexander’s pubic hair tickled his smooth buttocks. Will’s own prick was rock hard, and he experienced another jolt of pleasure as Alexander reached round to start wanking it.

Now it was Will’s turn to marvel at how the situation differed from their first time together. Back then he had been issued with strict instructions that he was not to touch his prick or indeed derive any sexual satisfaction from their encounter. And now? Their relationship seemed to be more than mere master and servant. He realised that if this was the final time he would feel Alexander’s experienced cock inside him, he would feel truly sorrowful.

“I’m close, boy. Very close now,” warned Alexander as he continued to tug at Will’s own erect prick.

“Me too, Sir. Me too.”

Suddenly, Alexander sat up, revelling in the sensation of the lad sitting on his lap, impaled on his thrusting prick. He reached round, and as he continued to jerk Will’s cock with one hand, he clasped his other palm over Will’s mouth and nose to prevent him breathing.

The sensation was enough to send Will into spasms of ecstasy. His master’s manly palm pressed against his face, the divine tights fuck and the sudden spurting of Alexander’s seed deep into his insides all combined to provoke the page boy’s own climax. Will squealed blissfully as cum went shooting in the air and landed on the flagstones and straw of the dungeon with a satisfying splat.

“I should make you lick that up, boy…”

A little later, Will scurried across the castle courtyard to return to the dormitory. He gripped the key firmly in his hand, while his mind lingered on Alexander, now safely locked up once more in his dank cell. He glanced from the grim dungeon in the very bowels of the castle up to the luxurious royal apartments where Prince Felix lay in bed. A candle flickered in the window.

He took a deep breath as he pushed the door to the dormitory open, wincing as it creaked.

“Who’s that?” came an accusatory whisper from the shadows.

“It’s only me. Will.”

“Where have you been?” asked Mortimer.

“I couldn’t sleep. My body aches too much from all that mopping.”

“Me too. Can’t get comfortable however I lie.”

Will glanced over to the empty pallet in the corner of the room.

“Where is Raymond?” he asked.

“He’s still with the Prince. I think he’s going to be even more difficult to deal with now, you know.”

“Yes, you’re probably right. Anyway, good night.”

And with that, Will crawled into bed. But he didn’t sleep. Alexander had issued him with a new list of instructions: items he needed to fetch during the day. In less than twenty-four hours’ time, the Steward planned to make his escape from the castle.

Will was still preoccupied with Alexander’s plan the following morning, as he, Mortimer, Humphrey and the few elderly men and women who made up the depleted castle staff consumed their meagre breakfast.

The atmosphere was subdued as the gathered servants contemplated silently what the implications of the attempt on Prince Felix’s life would be for them all.

Ulfgar and Odin had been dispatched the previous afternoon with instructions from his highness to ride through every village in the county proclaiming that anyone harbouring treasonous intents against his highness could expect no mercy. And in a nasty little extra twist, they had been ordered to chop off the right hand of at least one man in every village they passed through in order to emphasise the point. The servants shuddered at the news, knowing that this would do nothing to improve Prince Felix’s reputation in the area.

“I can’t keep this porridge warm forever,” grumbled Mistress Olwen. “Lord knows where he’s got to, but our proud young Master Raymond will have to do without his breakfast today.”

“Hold your tongue, woman, and show some respect to your betters!”

Will, shocked at the abruptness of the command, span round to look at the doorway. There, more arrogant than Will had ever seen him, stood Raymond himself.

“Well, I never heard such insolence!” spluttered the cook. “You apologise to me this instant!”

Raymond narrowed his eyes before he addressed her, coldly and deliberately.

“Take a look at me, woman. Don’t you see how I am dressed? Don’t you see that my status has risen?”

The dark-haired youth’s apparel was indeed a far cry from his recent wardrobe, be that either the clinging pink bodysuit or his tattered and stained nappy. His shiny black curls were clean and brushed, and he wore a fine embroidered doublet of black and white satin. Ribbons and bows ran down the front and a stiff lace collar framed his face. The piece de resistance was, naturally enough, the hose: one of his legs jet black, the other pristine white, the two meeting in the cup of his groin and disappearing into the crack of his shapely arse.

“There are to be some changes around here,” he announced. “You are looking at your new Chief Steward.”

A deep, communal sigh seemed to emanate from the assembled throng. Mistress Olwen looked flabbergasted, and was, for once, utterly speechless. Will couldn’t believe his ill fortune. It was one thing to have the callous young Prince as his tormentor, but now, once again, his oldest nemesis had been elevated to a position of power over him!

Raymond walked purposefully around the table, giving all of the other servants the opportunity to drink in his new finery. When he reached Will, he halted and bent to whisper in his ear:

“I have the complete trust of his royal Highness, boy.”

Raymond ran a jewelled finger along the length of Will’s hosed thigh and gently cupped his balls through his tights. Will’s throat was dry with anxiety.

“My dominion over you is limitless, goat-shit. And oh am I going to enjoy making you suffer…”

They saw little of their new Steward for the rest of the day. He remained ensconced in the Prince’s royal chambers, and with Ulfgar and Odin still absent on their bloodthirsty mission, Will found it relatively easy to slip away from his chores and into Alexander’s former suite.

He stood in the centre of the bedchamber. The walls were bare: the plush tapestries having been appropriated by the greedy Prince. The four-poster bed remained and Will recalled the sensation of being totally encased in hose and tied spread-eagle to its posts. His cock throbbed at the memory of being man-handled and used, all the time at Alexander’s mercy.

No time for that now, though. For all he knew, Raymond might appear at any moment to take ownership of Alexander’s old rooms. Following the disgraced former Steward’s instructions, Will shifted a cabinet and found a small trap door in the floor. He opened it carefully and emptied its contents into a leather bag.

Hours later, as the bed tolled midnight, Will stood in the dungeon and handed the bag to his former master.

“It was all there, Sir. Just as you said it would be.”

“Good lad. You’ve done well. And food?”

“That was harder. Mistress Olwen has been fussing around the kitchen all day. But I took what I could. There is enough for a couple of days at least.”

Alexander nodded his head grimly and fastened the long black cloak that Will had brought him around his shoulders.

“Then it is time for me to go.”

He hefted the leather satchel onto his shoulder and started towards the steps that would lead from the dungeon and to freedom.

“Sir,” stammered Will. “Will you – take me with you?”

“What’s this?”

“The Prince has made Raymond Chief Steward now. He hates me, Sir. I’m frightened of what he might do to me.”

Alexander’s brow furrowed at the news that he had been usurped by the arrogant young upstart.

“Is that the only reason you wish to come with me?”

Will shook his head slowly.

“Go on, boy…”

“When you took me from the village, Sir. I was totally ignorant of the ways of men. I was horrified. I hated what you made me do. But now…”

“You’ve learned to appreciate it, haven’t you?”

Alexander strode over to the trembling blond lad, and gently reached round to place a hand on his hosed bum. Breathing softly in Will’s ear, he began to stroke and caress those heavenly buttocks.

“You want to be used like the little slut you are. You need it, don’t you, bitch?”

“Yes, Sir,” gasped Will as his master’s tongue flickered in and out of his ear. “Please, please, Sir…”

Alexander paused in contemplation. Then he appeared to come to a decision.

“It’s tempting, boy. It’s very tempting: the prospect of your tights-covered arse being available to me whenever I want it. And don’t think I don’t appreciate your loyalty – or the risk you’ve taken in helping me to escape. But believe me, it’s for your own good that you stay here. I’m going to be an outlaw. If Felix or either of his goons find me, I’m a dead man for sure. I’m going to have to run and hide. And it will be easier for me to do that alone.”

A solitary tear welled in the corner of Will’s eye.

Alexander bent down and planted a full kiss on Will’s pouting lips.

“Good luck, tights boy. I hope we meet again. I pray that it will be in this world – but if not, I shall see you in the next.”

The night air was cold and sharp, but it was fresh after the stale stink of the dungeon. Alexander inhaled deeply the beautiful scent of freedom. He took a final look around him at the place he had called home for all these years, and stepped out into the unknown.

Thank you!

Just wanted to say a quick thank you to those of you who are reading and enjoying the story and have been kind enough to leave comments to that effect.

It really spurs me on to write more - and after quite a lull where I've been pretty busy with other things, I'm now churning out some new chapters as quickly as I can manage!

If anyone wants to leave a comment or email me about any of the stuff I've written, things they'd like me to include or would like to see happen in the story, do feel free to do so. It would be lovely to hear from you.

You can email me at lycra.ass.slut at gmail.com or leave a comment after any of the chapters.

Take care and best wishes
Gav

Chapter 26 - Death to the Prince!

            They were ordered onto their hands and knees, and now all four youths, clad from tip to toe in their clinging pink bodysuits, arses raised high in the air, awaited inspection.

            The gooey yolk and albumen had started to dry in patches on his skin, and Will observed that the itchy sensation was not unlike the familiar feeling of spilled semen drying on his stomach. The gloop had run down the inside of his legs and pooled at his knees, and the eggs he had failed to smash nestled in the sagging gusset of his tights suit.

            He risked an anxious glance along the line to look at his fellows: all of them shamed by being forced into yet another obscene display in front of their royal liege. Damn it, thought Will to himself, why must I be the only one whose prick gets hard and spills his seed at being treated like this! What had happened to that innocent, naïve lad who had arrived at the castle all those months ago? And why should treatment which should in truth provoke feelings of shame and humiliation excite him in this delicious and unexpected way? Even now, posing like a dog, his back arched like a whore and his bubble butt pointing at the sky, he cursed his deviant libido, as his cock began to swell once more.

            Odin and Ulfgar moved along the line, conducting their bizarre stock take. And when they reached him, and when the thick fingers of Ulfgar the Viking began prodding at his backside through his pink tights, counting one by one the eggs he had failed to smash, the sensation of those masculine hands roaming over his gunky bum and groin aroused him even more. Will bowed his blond head as he felt a sharp smack from Ulfgar’s paddle-like hand, which smashed one of the previously unbroken shells right against the ripe and tempting target of his arsehole.

            “Ouch!” he gasped as the egg shattered with a powerful thwack.

            “You say something, boy?” grunted the Viking as his finger pushed into Will’s boy hole through the soggy material.

            All Will could do was shake his head.

            The results of the contest were delivered to the scarlet-hosed Prince Felix. Maintaining the suspense, he paused for what, to Will, seemed an eternity before addressing the cowering page boys.

            “We have our victor. Unsurprisingly, you with the fat arse have managed to destroy all but two of the eggs that were tipped into your costume.”

            Humphrey let out an involuntary blub of relief.

            “You did, however, destroy the stool in the process. Nevertheless, I shall prove to you that I am capable of leniency. Your reward will be to have the eggs scraped from the inside of your costume – and an omelette cooked from them!”

            Will noticed that Raymond grimaced with disgust in the direction of his fat neighbour.

            “Meanwhile the punishment for our loser” –

            Ulfgar placed his leather boot against Mortimer’s wet backside and with a firm kick, sent the skinny page sprawling onto his belly.

-       “will be to mop the floors of the whole castle…”

Odin appeared at the Prince’s side, two wooden mops in his fist.

“On your feet, worm!”

A disconsolate Mortimer did as he was bidden. However, the devilish Prince was not quite finished.

“You will be joined by this depraved little urchin, who has shown once again an utter lack of self-discipline.”

Will gulped under the imperious gaze of his new royal master.

            “It becomes ever clearer just what kind of licentious house was run here under Courcey the traitor. I am sure that my dear godfather will be shocked to learn the kind of degenerate beasts that have been under his roof and under his protection.”

            Will thought back to his first few weeks at the castle, recollecting the lascivious way the handsome, silver-haired Lord Geoffrey had allowed his hands to wander over Will’s blue-hosed bottom. In spite of the lip service paid to religion and the church, in truth, the Lord of the Castle had not only known of but actively encouraged the kind of wanton behaviour that Prince Felix seemed to deplore. Will recalled ruefully his shock at the way his body had been groped. He had been horrified at the time to have his private parts – his genitals and his buttocks – fondled and toyed with by another man. However, compared to his life now, those seemed to be positively halcyon days!

            Felix continued to issue his instructions:

            “The two of you can begin by cleaning up this eggy mess that you have made in here. Odin, Ulfgar – you know what to do.”

            Mortimer and Will reached out to take the mops from the brutish Vikings.

            “Not so fast, worms,” said Odin. “You’re not going to be mopping with your hands…”

            Of course it would not be so simple, thought Will, as the Prince’s bodyguards fumbled at the gussets of their garments. They tore holes in the sodden pink fabric, tiny splinters of eggshell falling to the floor. Will noticed that Raymond was not even attempting to conceal his contemptuous amusement as Will and Mortimer were instructed to “assume the position”. Mortimer and Will both as the thick wooden mop handles were inserted into their yielding bums.

            “How far in should we go?” asked Ulfgar in genuine puzzlement, slowly pushing the wooden stick further up Will’s arse.

            “As far as it will go?” suggested Odin.

            “Please, no!” cried a genuinely terrified Mortimer, anxious of suffering permanent damage to his bowels from the fearsome invasion.

            But Odin was merely jesting. The mop handles were pushed about six inches inside the boys’ bodies, and then left to protrude ridiculously from their bumholes.

            “What are you waiting for?” demanded Prince Felix. “Get cleaning!”

            Unsurprisingly, the procedure was hopelessly ineffectual. Will did his best, and experimented with a variety of positions and stances – from crouching, to squatting, to standing on tiptoe. However, as he was not permitted to use his hands to guide the mop, all he achieved was a painful prodding at his prostate from the blunt end of the pole.

            Both he and Mortimer were forced to wriggle their behinds in a ridiculous fashion in an attempt to carry out the impossible task they had been set. Will tried thrusting his pelvis back and forth to give the mop the required momentum. This singularly failed to get any cleaning done and merely ensured that he ended up fucking himself on the end of the mop.

            “You’d better be cleaning rather than pleasuring yourself, boy,” warned Odin in a dangerous tone.

            “Yes, Sir. I’m doing my best,” pleaded Will, desperately. That’s all he’d tried to do since the day he arrived in the castle, he thought to himself. And where precisely had it got him?

           

            It was after midnight. Will lay in his bed, every muscle in his body aching. His thighs, his back, his shoulders were all weary from the unusual positions he had been forced to adopt as part of Prince Felix’s unconventional cleaning regime. And though he should have been used to it by now, his arsehole burned from having been raped, hour after hour, by the roughly hewn mop handle.

            For the first time in days, he was not wearing the ridiculous pink tights suit. Prince Felix had observed that the stench of eggs would rapidly become obnoxious and offend his delicate sense of smell. So, after they had finally been permitted to cease swabbing the flagstones of the castle with their “arse mops”, Mortimer and Will had been instructed to wash the four stained and gunky bodysuits in the castle laundry. Consequently, for now, Will was clad once more in his customary blue hose.

            He lay there, listening intently to the gentle snoring of the other three exhausted page boys. He reached under his pillow to where the large dungeon key reposed, and then, noiselessly, he slipped from his pallet and embarked upon his latest clandestine mission.

            “You have returned, then, boy. I wondered whether you would.”

Alexander’s voice was hoarse and scratchy through lack of use. He drank in the sight of the cherubic young page boy, who had once again risked his life to bring food and water to the fallen Steward.

            “There isn’t much,” murmured Will, “but I brought what I could.”

            “You are back in your blue tights,” Alexander observed, as he fell upon the slim pickings Will had filched from the larder.

            Will’s face reddened. “Prince Felix made us smash eggs against our buttocks. The pink tights suits are ruined.”

            “I see. That must have been humiliating for you.”

            “It was, Sir.”

            “I wish I could have witnessed it. Did you – enjoy it?”

            Will, abashed, did not speak.

            “Well? Did you, boy?”

            “I couldn’t help myself, Sir. The feeling of all those eggs cracking against my bum, the explosion of goo and gunk inside my tights…”

            “You came, didn’t you, lad?”

            “Yes, Sir. I did. I don’t understand it! Every new humiliation. Part of me hates it, but part of me…”

            His voice trailed off.

            “Don’t fight it, boy. Embrace it. Maybe you’re learning that it’s what you’ve wanted and needed all your life. Maybe that day I came along and stole you away from your mother’s hovel was the best thing that ever happened to you!”

            Will nodded in the gloom. In spite of the tortures and mistreatment he had suffered during his time in the castle, he was starting to think Alexander was right.

            “But what’s to become of me? Of all of us?” he asked.

            “That, my boy, is in the lap of the gods. But one thing I know for certain. I must escape this place. Sooner or later, that bastard Felix will come to check on my progress. And by then, I must be gone. Will you come visit me again tomorrow night?”

            “If I can, Sir.”

            “Then steal an iron file from old Master Daniel in the blacksmith’s forge and bring it to me.”

            “Yes, Sir.”

            “Now, come here and let me kiss those pretty lips …”

            Alexander leant towards the lad and with open mouth, probed Will’s tongue with his own. Licking and lapping, the boy responded, his dick in his tights hardening as the older man plunged his tongue deeper and deeper into Will’s eager mouth.

            “Go, boy. If you come tomorrow and if you do what I ask, then I shall fuck that sweet bum of yours. That is a promise.”

             

            The next morning, the late spring sun warmed the stony buttresses of the castle in a hazy glow. Prince Felix strolled along the drawbridge and glanced down at the fish circling in the moat below. He reached the dirt track that led from the castle down into the town and yawned languidly.

            “Ulfgar – I shall go hunting this afternoon. Make sure my steed is prepared.”

            His henchman nodded. “Of course, your highness.”

            “Boy – a drink.”

            Raymond hurried to his royal master’s side, still glowing smugly from the honour of having been chosen – ahead of the other three pages – to accompany the Prince on his walk this morning. Clearly, Prince Felix knew class when he saw it. Raymond handed a goblet of ruby red claret to the Prince and bowed low.

            “The weather is improving. And I wish to spend more time outdoors.” He glanced at Raymond. “That may come as a relief to you, my little worm. A respite from your diet of humiliation?”

            “My only desire is to serve,” murmured the page boy humbly.

            “Is that so?”

            “My father was a gentleman, Sire. I understand the etiquette of court better than these village urchins who were dragged into service by” –

            He stopped himself, wary even of speaking Alexander’s name lest it enrage the Prince.

-       “By the former Steward.”

“I see. And how would you seek to serve your Prince, boy?”

“In any way I can, my liege. Truly and devotedly.”

            Ulfgar sneered at the page boy’s obsequiousness. Raymond didn’t care. He knew that the uncouth and lumbering Vikings were in thrall to the Prince and as dependent on the King’s favour and patronage as anyone in the kingdom. Raymond bowed again and withdrew to a discreet distance. He would need to continue to judge the situation carefully, but his father had been clever at judging the politics of court and in that way had won both favour and fortune. Raymond saw no reason why he should not do the same.

            The Prince continued along the pathway, his fine cape, trimmed with silver fur slung casually over his shoulder. His taut male buttocks, framed deliciously in midnight blue hose, shimmered with each stride he made. Raymond was not sentimental about sex. For him, it was a weapon to be used by the powerful against the weak. And the Lord knew, he had been used and abused by sexual predators enough in his short life to have learned that particular lesson.

            After his father’s premature death, the King, supposedly his guardian and protector, had crudely grabbed his family’s wealth, and delivered the fourteen year old Raymond into the hands of Lord Geoffrey. A pert and pretty lad like Raymond, all jet black curls and button nose, inevitably attracted the attention of the lascivious Chief Steward. And Alexander’s reputation for enjoying the domination and humiliation of handsome page boys was well-known.

            Raymond hadn’t even minded particularly. Alexander made it plain that Raymond was his favourite – his personal plaything. And the night the Steward robbed him of his virginity, his tights pooled round his knees and his pretty arse expertly plundered by his master’s impressive cock, had been a moment of revelation for him. He was not, by nature, submissive. A streak of cruelty ran deep within him. But he had the wisdom to know that teenage page boys are more likely to be on the receiving end of sexual sadism, and that he would have to bide his time, and rise through the ranks to achieve a status where one day he could be the dominant one.

            It had all been going so smoothly. His path to succeed Alexander as Chief Steward as the right hand man to the lord of manor had seemed assured. And then it all started to go wrong: all because of that stinking brat from the village.

            Unceremoniously demoted from his place at Alexander’s side, Raymond had focused all his hatred and envy on the simpering usurper. Innocent, naïve, little Will – completely unaware of how his perfect arse, wriggling inside his blue hose, drove all the men in the castle wild with lust. How he loathed him. And how excited he’d been to be given the opportunity to humiliate him and administer daily enemas to that plump, bubble butt.

            Then, Raymond had made a rare miscalculation. Of course, he should have known Alexander would never give up his sexy little fuckbitch. And so, Raymond had been the one condemned to weeks of the foulest degradation at the hands of the loathsome Sir Wilfrid. Raymond never forgot and he never forgave. And as he spent day after miserable day, scrabbling about in the old man’s fetid sheets, he had sworn revenge on both Will and Alexander de Courcey. And somehow, some day, he knew, he would have it.

            His daydreaming was interrupted by a flash of light in the nearby woods. Raymond narrowed his eyes and squinted into the distance. There it was again: the unmistakeable sight of sunlight gleaming off steel. He barely had a moment to think, but his childhood nickname ‘Raymond the Resourceful’ had not been for nothing. Instinctively, he launched himself at his royal master and with all his weight behind him, threw the blond Prince to the ground.

            Felix screamed in anger and shock. He and Raymond tumbled into the grass, and in that precise moment an arrow whistled through the air, right past the spot where only a second before the Prince had been wandering idly.

            Ulfgar gawped as the arrow arced, shy of its intended target, and planted itself harmlessly in the soft soil.

            “Death to the Prince!” rang a clarion cry from the woods. “Death to all pampered royalty who live off the fat of the land whilst we good folk starve!”

            Prince Felix, heart pounding as he lay sprawled on the ground, made to move and to respond to the insolent peasant.

            “Please, your highness,” whispered Raymond in his master’s ear. “Stay still. It is too dangerous.”

            Felix did as he was instructed, and Ulfgar, drawing his sword with a terrifying roar, charged into the woods, in hot pursuit of the Prince’s would-be assassin.

            Raymond stayed where he was, shielding the precious body of the young man who would one day be his king. Felix’s breathing was shallow and rapid, every well-developed muscle tense and straining. Raymond revelled in the sensation of lying atop this gorgeous specimen. His chest pressed down on the Prince’s beautiful back; their legs were separated only by the thin sheen of their tights, the silky material rubbing together most sensuously; and Raymond’s hosed cock – suddenly rock hard in the heat and the adrenaline of the moment – pressed against the twin mounds of Felix’s beautiful bottom.

            “Are you alright, my Lord?” breathed Raymond into the Prince’s ear.

            From the woods beyond, Ulfgar’s bass voice boomed: “Die, traitor! Die!”  

And a sudden, gurgling scream from the distance informed both page boy and Prince that the danger had passed.

            A little regretfully, Raymond rolled off Felix’s body.

            Eyes flashing furiously, the Prince, with as much dignity as he could muster, got to his feet and began to dust down his soiled doublet and hose.

            “Yes, boy, I am well. No thanks to that lumbering fool over there.”

            Raymond remained tactfully silent on that point. “A thousand apologies for placing a hand upon your royal person without your permission, your highness…”

            Felix raised a jewelled hand and mopped the sweat from his brow. “Under the circumstances, you are forgiven. It seems that your vow to serve me was not an idle one.”