Chapter 32 - Milk and Molasses

            Night-time came and it was with some trepidation that Will entered the kitchen for his next appointment with Raymond. The large stone-clad room was unoccupied so it seemed: Mistress Olwen and her depleted staff having retired to their bedchambers. A fire had been laid and burned steadily in the hearth – somewhat unnecessarily, he thought, given the warmth of the early summer evening.

            “Hello?” he called out.

            From the shadows stepped the malevolent form of Raymond the Steward, his sleek silhouette – sheer grey hose clinging snugly to every contour of his legs, arse and bulge – a complete contrast to Will’s ungainly appearance: the crotch of Will’s white tights straining round his knees, and the nappy overflowing from the top of it.

            “Just the two of us,” purred Raymond. “Do you remember that night all those months ago? When I kissed you and wanked you off in your tights?”

            “I remember,” mumbled Will. “You did it to get me into trouble with Master Alexander.”

            “That’s as may be, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that you enjoyed it, does it? Come on, Will, admit it. You find me handsome, don’t you? You wouldn’t say no to me fucking you again, would you? Like that night all of us lads in the dormitory made use of your arse. You could even imagine I’m your precious Alexander Courcey if that would make you happy.”

            Will hesitated. He knew enough by now not to trust a single word that came out of Raymond’s silver-tongued mouth. He might be sweetness and smiles for now, but it was only that morning that he’d been pouring cold sludge over his head and calling him ‘goat-shit’.

            Raymond smiled enigmatically and gestured Will to the long wooden refectory table, on top of which lay several thick white towels.

            “Come along, baby boy. Let me change that nasty wet nappy for you.” Raymond patted the towels. “Lie down here for me.”

            Will did as he was bidden, flushing slightly at the infantilising language used by the other young man. He made to pull down his hose, but Raymond slapped his hand sharply.

            “No, no, baby boy. I’ll do that for you.”

            Will reclined and sank into the towels, so that his back lay flat and his knees were bent, his stockinged feet flat on the tabletop. He felt Raymond gently pulling down his under-sized hose as far down as his ankles. He heard a tinkling sound as the padlock round his waist was undone and felt the blessed relief as the layers of sodden padding around his nether regions were finally lifted away, allowing warm air to flow around his moist groin for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

            Raymond’s touch was, for once, gentle, and Will began to find the sensation almost soothing as the older youth’s smooth fingers caressed his naked buttocks and balls. Raymond dabbed at Will’s private parts with a flannel and some soapy water before running a clean dry towel around his genitals, and along the crack of his arse. He lingered there just a moment to prod his finger against Will’s puckered boyhole.

            Will’s cock desperately wanted to swell into hardness, but of course the constriction of the metal chastity cage prevented that eventuality.

            “Please, Raymond,” he moaned. “I need – I need – “

            But Raymond merely tutted and shook his head. “Oh no, baby boy. You’ve been too naughty. You don’t get to enjoy an erection. Not yet at least.”

            Fine white powder was patted into Will’s groin, and at the instruction “Lift your bottom, boy!” Will duly did as he was told and more talcum powder was applied to his firm fresh arse cheeks. The warmth in the room, the tender ministrations, it was almost enough to send the pretty blond lad into a peaceful sleep.

            He felt Raymond’s palm resting on his flat, naked stomach. “All this time,” mused Raymond softly, “and you’ve not pooped in your nappy…”

            Will bit his lower lip. He’d been determined to avoid that – the ultimate indignity.

            “You must be constipated,” came the diagnosis. “And I have just the treatment for that particular condition.”

            “Treatment?” Will repeated fearfully, his head rising to look Raymond in the eyes.

            “I ensured Mistress Olwen left all the right ingredients should this eventuality occur,” said Raymond. He lifted a heavy jug from the shelf on the wall and carried it over to the hearth, where a large iron pot hung on a chain above the fire. “Fresh, creamy milk – direct from Castle Montford’s own herd!” He tipped up the jug and the frothy milk splashed into the pot. Then he made his way purposefully to another shelf and fetched down a large earthenware jar. He removed the lid. “And here we have a rare delicacy!” He dipped a long metal serving spoon into the receptacle, and when he withdrew it, it was covered in a kind of thick syrup – jet black and gloopy. “Black treacle – known in some parts as ‘molasses’,” he whispered conspiratorially. “It’s very expensive and very hard to come by. You’re exceptionally lucky to be treated to such a luxury, baby boy!”

Will licked his lips in spite of himself. His diet as a child had been plain, and his time at the castle had introduced him to foodstuffs he barely could have dreamed of in his poverty-stricken past. He’d discovered he had quite the sweet tooth. The prospect of tasting a warm creamy bedtime drink sweetened with the black treacle was almost worth whatever torment Raymond might devise!

He watched eagerly as Raymond spooned one dollop after another of the treacle into the pot of milk, and then, when the jar was as good as empty, the older youth took the spoon and stirred the mixture firmly. “We must wait until it’s nice and warm,” Raymond said. “Though not too hot of course. We wouldn’t want to burn your delicate little … tongue.” If Will noticed the pause and the wicked smirk Raymond gave, he thought nothing of it. Indeed, the amiable attitude Raymond was displaying made him braver than he would normally have been.

“Raymond – Sir, may I ask you? Why do you hate me so?” he ventured.

“Why would you think I hated you, Will?”

“I didn’t ask for any of this, you know,” he persisted. “Everything that has been done to me since Alexander stole me away from my village. It’s all been out of my control. I never wanted to replace you in his bed. Or send you to serve under that horrible Sir Wilfrid.”

“No, you’re a total innocent. Completely naïve. A victim to whoever seeks to dominate you. You’ve no backbone. No intelligence. No initiative. You’re utterly passive. You’ve never made a conscious decision to do anything in your entire life. You dared to think you were worthy of my sister. And yet you were born in a goat-shit covered hovel. And if I had my way, that’s where you’d be right now. You’ve made it this far in your short life because you have a pretty face, a pretty body and a pretty bum. Is it any wonder you irritate the fuck out of me?”

Raymond’s diatribe was delivered in the same sweetly reasonable tones he’d used all evening. “Now,” he continued with a smile, “it’s time for your bedtime drink. I hope you’re thirsty. I think you’re going to enjoy this…”

He took the spoon out of the pot and tentatively touched the simmering liquid to his tongue. “Mmm, just right,” he purred. Will turned his head expectantly as Raymond lifted the pot from its chain but, instead of tipping some of its contents into one of the pewter tankards that hung from pegs along the wall, Raymond produced a kind of oilskin bag from a nearby drawer. Curiously, the bag had a loop of rope attached to the top of it and, rather than the bag being closed at the bottom, Will observed that a long length of flexible tubing dropped from it instead. A metal clamp was fixed to the tubing and then it passed through two curious balloon-like bulges – currently deflated – and each attached to their own individual squeezable bulb. The tubing terminated in an iron nozzle. Will began to get a familiar and distinctly uneasy feeling in his gut.

Raymond gazed at him, nodding knowingly. “Has the penny finally dropped, baby boy?” He started to tip the warm, black liquid into the oilskin bag. It gurgled as it flooded in, gushing down and filling the tube as far as the metal clamp. Will sniffed the air fearfully and smelt the distinct aroma of liquorice. “That’s right. You’re not going to drink my delicious concoction. It’s your new enema recipe.”

Will gulped hard. “What will it – what will it do?”

Raymond’s dark eyes glistened with anticipation. “Oh, it’s much harsher than mere water,” he explained. “The cream in the milk and the sugar in the molasses will combine in your gut to produce an enormous amount of gas almost immediately. It will be desperately uncomfortable and all you’ll want to do will be to expel it straight away. But of course we don’t want that. If it’s to do any good and clear up your constipation, it needs to stay inside you for as long as possible!”

Having emptied about half of the black solution into the bag, Raymond hung it from one of the pegs by the fireplace. Then he lifted the end of the tubing and brought the two deflated balloons level with Will’s face. “That’s what this little device is for!” Raymond scooped a handful of lard that had been left out to soften near the fireplace and set to work lathering it over the both the nozzle and the first of the deflated balloons.

Swiftly, he moved round the table from Will’s head to his rear end. Will lay there, semi-supine, his legs still slightly raised and his arsehole accessible and vulnerable. He gasped as he felt Raymond’s fingers, with practiced assurance, greasing his butt crack, and then swallowed hard as he felt the cold iron nozzle forcing its way between his larded cheeks. Raymond continued the pressure, and as Will felt the nozzle slide further into him, it was soon followed by the first of the strange balloons. Will felt his arselips open wider to accommodate the balloon and then clamp shut on the tubing as Raymond successfully wiggled the entire balloon inside.

Will felt his cock wanting to swell and harden as his arse was manhandled, but the inevitable constriction of the steel cage pinched his flesh and put paid to any notion in that direction. Raymond took hold of one of the bulbs and began to squeeze it – once, twice, thrice. As he did so, Will experienced the peculiar sensation of the balloon slowly expanding in his rectum, and before long the sides were pressing uncomfortably inside his anal cavity. Already he felt the desire to shit it out of him, but as his muscles attempted an experimental push, he soon realised glumly that the balloon had been inflated to a considerable diameter and that no amount of squeezing from him would force it to fit through his asshole.

“Oh no, baby bitch,” admonished Raymond in a whisper. “That’s stuck fast inside you now until I decide to let it go down.” He lifted the other bulb in his palm and repeated the action, squeezing over and over. This one, nestling against the outside of Will’s pink rosebud, was visible as it inflated, and Raymond experienced an erotic twitch in his tights to see the balloon pressing against Will’s most vulnerable and intimate orifice.

Raymond gave an experimental tug on the tubing, and having satisfied himself that all was secure, he returned to the side of the table to gaze into Will’s increasingly anxious eyes. “Are you ready for your enema?” he cooed.

“I’m frightened, Raymond. Please – please don’t fill me with that terrible mixture!”

“But it’s for your own good. You’ll feel so much better – afterwards.”

And with a snap of his fingers, Raymond released the clamp on the tubing. The height of the bag, hanging from its wooden peg, meant the vicious black fluid flowed swiftly, and Raymond was gratified to see that the physical effect on young Will was practically instantaneous.

For Will’s part, the warm liquid hit his insides like a tidal wave, squirting contemptuously and filling him rapidly. It wasn’t long before his belly started to swell and a moment later, he felt Raymond’s palm gently massaging his stomach, encouraging the solution higher and deeper, as it traversed through his bowels and into his guts.

Raymond checked the contents of the bag. “Your arse is guzzling all that milk and molasses with true alacrity!” he declared. “What a greedy little bottom you have! I can already see the last few dregs disappearing down the tube and filling your boyhole!”

Will glanced down at his body. There he lay, lying on his back, his legs spread, his white-hosed feet as wide as the tights would allow them to stretch, the fabric gathered in folds around his ankles. His gaze moved upwards along his smooth, muscular nude legs - bent at the knees, his boy cock imprisoned in its hateful cage, the enema tube snaking along the table, depositing the final drops of the tormenting solution inside him, and the external, visible balloon bulging against his buttocks.

Beads of sweat began to collect at Will’s brow. The warmth of the liquid had raised his body temperature, and the glowing fire combined to make him feel distinctly uncomfortable. But that was nothing compared to the sharp cramp that suddenly pierced his distended stomach.

“Ah, ah, ah!” he gasped as his poor insides suffered their exquisite torment.

“Ssshhh,” soothed Raymond, gently mopping Will’s fevered brow. “Breathe. Breathe nice and deeply. That will make the pain go away.’

Will panted anxiously, trying to control the waves of discomfort which were assailing him. All he could think of was trying to expel the wicked enema solution. He grunted and squeezed his bowls, desperate to try and rid his body of the noxious stuff, but the balloon catheter was stuck fast, and no amount of pressure could budge the blockage in his rectum.

“Not so fast, baby boy,” came Raymond’s mocking tones. “You’ll only be able to let that nasty stuff out of your bottom when I say you can.”

The older youth exulted in the other’s agony, rubbing his cock through the thin material of his grey tights. A bead of precum shone in the torch-light of the chamber, glistening against the shimmer of his hose.

“Pleeeease!” wailed Will as another devastating cramp coursed through him, causing his whole body to convulse in anguish. “I can’t take it! I’m going to burst!”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, tights boy. Here, let me give you something to take your mind off your predicament.”

Raymond kicked off his leather boots and nimbly hopped up onto the table. He planted his stockinged feet either side of Will’s tense shoulders and gradually began to lower his hosed buttocks over the blond lad’s face. He hovered for a moment, mere tantalising inches above him, before sinking down and pushing his bum hard into Will’s nose and mouth.

Will breathed in the scent of Raymond’s juicy arse and felt the sensation of the luxurious hosiery caressing his face as Raymond wriggled his buttocks over him. The necessity of trying to breathe through this new constriction did indeed distract him momentarily from the battle being fought between his bowels and the sadistic onslaught of the invading enema. However, just then another wave of cramps sent his tense and sweating body into new convulsions. He feared he would throw up if he did not emit the noxious substance soon. And he was certain that, one way or another, his body would have to rid itself of the enema, and that he would have no conscious control over it.

The guttural scream that escaped him would have woken the entire castle had it not been muffled by the insistent and fragrant pressure of Raymond’s hosed bum. Furthermore, the scream was not the only thing to slip from him as his bowels squeezed harder than ever in protest at the hellish liquid bubbling within them.

The pressure did the trick and, finally, his arse snapped open, wide enough even for the obstinate balloon catheter to be forced through it. Raymond continued to rub his hosed cock, watching in awe as the balloon and the tubing shot across the room, followed immediately by a powerful spray of black fluid. Jets of the liquid spurted yards across the room, pebble-dashing the walls and floors with their sweet-smelling aroma.

Will’s tortured stomach pulsed as it emptied its hateful contents into the air, and the youngest page boy panted with relief as he voided himself, fresh air rushing into his lungs as Raymond slowly lifted his bum from his face. Will squealed and cried aloud with the relief and the intensity of the experience. On went the expulsion, Raymond scarcely able to credit that the lad had managed to contain such quantities within his young body. Finally, at long last, the fountain slowed to an occasional spurt, and Raymond was satisfied that Will had purged himself of the milk and molasses, and that his bowels were empty once again.

Raymond clambered down from the table-top and took a long, hard look into Will’s flushed and sweating countenance. The blond lad’s whole body shuddered with relief.

Raymond raised an eyebrow at the devastated youth, lying spent and prostrate on the tabletop. “Somebody’s going to have to clean that up,” he murmured.