Chapter 46 - Cleaning Up

“Sir Antony, Sir Dominic, would you be so good as to tie our young Princeling to his throne?”

The strapping knights bowed to acknowledge Alexander’s request.

“You were ordered to clean me!” snapped Felix.

“Hush your incessant whining, boy!” ordered Alexander. “You will be dealt with at a time when I see fit.”

“How dare you!”

“You’d better gag him as well. It seems our young Prince takes a long, long time to learn. But he will be broken in the end. All young studs are broken – eventually.”

Antony and Dominic efficiently manhandled the Prince – sticky and shivering in his ruined hosiery – into the throne, and there they bound and gagged him.

The assembled throng of assorted party guests – drunk with exhilaration and wine – turned expectantly to Alexander.

“We have the former Chief Steward of the castle to deal with, after all,” he said, resting his hand lightly on the shoulder of Raymond’s silver doublet. “How the Wheel of Fortune turns...”

His desperate mind made up, young Raymond slipped from his chair and sank to his knees in front of Alexander. “I’ve been a fool, my Lord” he gibbered. “My ambition got the better of me. But please, Master Courcey – you would have done the same in my place, wouldn’t you? I saw the opportunity and I grabbed it. I learned at your feet, Sir. At the feet of the master.”

Alexander gazed down contemptuously at the grovelling youth.

Raymond went on: “I know that my behaviour deserves only the sternest of punishments but I’ll do anything, Master! Just let me keep my life. Please I’m begging you!”

A low muttering reverberated around the Hall. Then a lone voice cried out: “Kill the little shit! Take him to the courtyard and hang him from the gallows that are standing there!”

Raymond scrabbled on his knees to Alexander’s feet. His hosed buttocks bobbed in the air as he sank to plant a kiss on the Steward’s leather boot.

“You hold my life in the palm of your hand, Master. Show mercy, please. And spare a thought for that pretty youth who lost his virginity to you in this very castle only a few years ago...”

“You really are a pathetic creature, Raymond, you know that?”

“Yes, Sir. I know. I’ve been an idiot.”

“This is true.” Alexander withdrew his dagger from its sheath and positioned the deadly blade against Raymond’s neck. “So give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slice your traitorous throat this very instant!”

“Compassion, my Lord. Forgiveness. Christian charity. And my solemn promise that I have learned my lesson once and for all!”

Alexander paused: an enigmatic expression on his saturnine features. He raised his dagger in the air. Raymond screwed his eyes tight in anticipation of the killer blow. Then, in one swift motion, the dagger slashed open the front of Raymond’s gorgeous black doublet. “Take it off, bitch,” he instructed. “I want your smooth chest vulnerable to the penetration of my blade.”

Raymond blanched and, shivering in fear, slowly shrugged off the remnants of his fine tunic. He crouched at Alexander’s feet in only his black and white particoloured hose. He waited for what seemed like an eternity. The crowd of guests held its breath as Alexander gently tested the sharp point of his dagger against his palm.

Eventually he seemed to come to a decision. “I’m going to spare your life – for now at least,” he said. “But you do realise you must be punished, boy, don’t you?”

Raymond swallowed nervously. “Yes, Sir. I see that I’ve been a very wicked boy and that I must be punished.”

“Some public humiliation to begin with, don’t you think?”

Naturally, Raymond was expecting this. “Whatever you say, Master Alexander. I’ll obey your every command!”

“Too right you will, you snivelling little bastard!” And Alexander slapped Raymond sharply across his cheek. A small trickle of blood ran from the youth’s pink lips and a tear sprang, involuntarily, to his dark eyes.

Alexander snorted with contempt and then raised his eyes to survey the Great Hall. “My, what a mess the dirty young Prince has made in here!” he exclaimed.

Unable to speak, Prince Felix’s eyes flashed with utter loathing.

Alexander bent down and grabbed a fistful of Raymond’s dark curls. He forced the lad to look down at the floor. “I think you need to clean it up, boy. I want you to crawl on your hands and knees and lick up every lump of cake, every globule of pudding, every dollop of cream and custard that has been spilled on this hallowed, ancient floor. And you’d better do a good job of it, you vile little slut!”

Alexander released Raymond’s hair and gave the boy’s tights-clad arse a firm kick with the sole of his leather boot. The boy’s body jolted in surprise and sprawled to the floor.

Raymond did not need to be told twice. With the catcalls of the audience ringing in his ears, he scurried off to carry out his demeaning task. The thin material of his finely woven hose afforded little protection to his poor knees, and the cold, hard floor soon made them sore. Although that was the least of his worries. On all fours, like a dog, he bent down to lick at the yellow streak of custard smeared across the floor.

“That’s it, Master Steward!” jeered a voice from the crowd. “Eat up your din-dins now!”

Shrieks of laughter rang forth, as Raymond stuck out his tongue and gingerly began to lap at the congealing slime. It tasted sweet and sickly, and there was definitely bits of grit in it, he realised ruefully.

“Swallow it,” ordered Alexander. “You’ve got a lot of clearing up to do and we don’t have all night!”

On he crawled, licking and lapping at the gunge that was splattered on the floor. Fairly soon the combination of chocolate, sugar and cream started to make Raymond feel distinctly queasy, but he knew he had no choice but to continue with his disgusting task.

“No better than a mangy mongrel dog licking up the left overs!” declared an onlooker as Raymond scrabbled desperately over the flagstones.

The youth had now done a whole circuit of the Great Hall. He had made some inroads in clearing up the mess but the floor was still largely covered in gunge and gloop.

“A pitiful job you’ve made of this, young Raymond,” said Alexander, shaking his head in mock sorrow. “Crawl over here to me and let me examine you!”

His knees raw through the soft material of his tights, Raymond did as he was ordered. He gazed up miserably into Alexander’s cruel countenance.

“Look at the state of you!” the Steward cried. “Your once-fine tights now filthy and laddered. And your face smeared with cream and custard.”

He leant over, wiped some of the gunk from Raymond’s cheek and then flicked it into the lad’s eye.

Raymond winced and belched from the amount of sweet food he’d been forced to ingest. Titters rang out from the crowd as Alexander shouted:

“On your back!”

Raymond did not need to be told twice. He was prepared for whatever perverted humiliation Alexander might choose for him, provided it did not end with his body hanging from the gibbet. His naked back made contact with the cold and dirty floor.

“Lift your legs, boy! Spread ‘em!”

Raymond’s hose-clad legs – one black, one white – immediately went in the air, the soles of his feet pointing at the ceiling. Raymond looked up to see the baleful forms of Odin and Ulfgar, long-forgotten, still swinging from the chandeliers. No time to think of them now: he had his own skin to save!

“Nice tights,” remarked Alexander. “You’ve been spending Lord Geoffrey’s wealth most freely at Dunchester market, haven’t you?” His hand rested on the muscular curve of Raymond’s hosed thigh. “Only the most exquisite material to sheath your legs, I see...”

“Whilst the rest of us poor folk starve!” cried a voice from the drunken crowd.

Alexander’s boot prodded Raymond’s tights-clad arse. “Seems a shame to have to tear them, but I need access to your hole, boy.”

Raymond gulped.

“In fact, you can do it yourself. Go on, bitch. Rip me a hole in your tights so that puckered little pussy of yours can get some air to it...”

Obedient and compliant, the curly-haired youth fumbled at the gusset of his luxurious legwear.

“Hurry, slutboy. I don’t have all day, you know...”

Finally Raymond’s shaking fingers found purchase and he managed to rend a small hole in the clinging material.

“It’ll need to be bigger than that, boy,” growled Alexander, nonchalantly rubbing at his hosed cock.

Raymond dutifully expanded the slash in the fabric, so that a promising slice of pale pink flesh could be glimpsed through the black and white silk.

“Now, boy, get those legs spread as wide as they’ll go and beg me to fuck that puckered little cunt of yours...”

Raymond didn’t need to be told twice. Only this morning the prospect of grovelling for mercy and begging to be fucked publicly by his hated nemesis in front of hundreds of peasants would have mortified him. Now he longed for it more than anything else he could have wished for. For he knew that the only way to save his miserable skin would be to turn Alexander on and to get him sufficiently horny so that Raymond was more use to him alive - and fuckable - than dead. Grasping his legs and yanking them as wide as they could possibly go, he babbled his desperate mantra:

“Please, Sir, I know I’m not worthy of it. I know the last thing I deserve is to take your cock up my pathetic boychute but please, I beg of you, please, please, fuck me. I’m desperate, Sir! Desperate for your massive manmeat to plunge deep into my worthless asshole! For you to use me for your pleasure and entertainment. Rape my slit till it’s raw! Ravish my aching arse! Degrade me like the piece of meat I am! I beg of you, Sir. Please! Please!”

Raymond tried to block out the screeching, mocking laughter of the servants, the merchants and the peasants in the Hall; the amused disgust crossing the faces of the handsome knights, Antony and Dominic; the scornful sneer of Prince Felix. And he knew that when the moment came and Alexander knelt between his legs, parting his hosed buttocks and penetrating him with that long, thick cock of his, he could expect no mercy. Alexander would rape him painfully and brutally. It would hurt, he knew that. Alexander would relish every second of his revenge. But at least... at least he would be alive.

He watched fearfully as Alexander approached his asshole, his forefinger extended towards him.

“Now, should I lubricate your cunt, bitch, or shall I force you to take it dry, I wonder?” he murmured.

Raymond knew what he wanted to answer, but instead whispered, “However you want to take me, Sir.”

Alexander smirked at the boy. “This sudden compliance suits you, Raymond. Now, what should I use? My spit? Or what about this? You’ve missed some custard here. Tut tut tut. This is going inside you one way or the other. Your arsehole is as suitable as your mouth, I suppose. There’s not a great deal of difference, after all. Both are now just convenient orifices for my sexual pleasure...”

He scooped some of the yellow gunk from the floor and, just as Raymond had predicted, he squatted down between the younger man’s thights. Tearing the particoloured tights even further along Raymond’s crack, Alexander slowly inserted first one, and then another custard-coated digit into the boy’s puckered hole. Raymond gasped with shock. It had been a long time since his ass had been violated, and certainly not in this humiliating fashion.

Alexander left his two fingers inside the youth, allowing him to grow accustomed to the stretching of his sphincter muscles. Then, smiling evilly, he withdrew his fingers and wiped them across Raymond’s lips.

“Lick, boy,” he ordered, casually.

Raymond’s tongue lolled and lapped at Alexander’s manicured fingers just as he was told to, tasting the custard from his own asshole.

“That will do for now, bitch. You may lower your legs.”

Raymond hesitated. Was that it? Was he truly going to escape any further punishment? Truly, he thought, Alexander’s time spent in the dungeon and fleeing across England had soften the sadistic old bastard.

“What’s that, slut? Disappointed that you’re not going to be speared on my cock? Oh have no fears. There will be time for that later.”

Raymond slowly returned his feet to the floor. Alexander gave the lad’s tights-clad bulge a squeeze and then stood up straight.

“It’s a warm and pleasant evening, ladies and gentlemen. I think we should take the Prince’s birthday party outside...”

The inebriated onlookers began to troop out of the Hall and to make their way into the courtyard, eager to discover what entertainment they would be provided with next: confident that it would involve the two unfortunate young men: Raymond and Felix.

Mistress Olwen, still grasping Jane by the wrist, whispered in her ear: “Not you, missy. We have some cleaning up to do in here. And I think we’ll use more conventional methods.” A tin bucket and a wooden mop were plonked down for Raymond’s younger sister to use.

Meanwhile, Odin and Ulfgar attempted to draw attention to their predicament in the rafters, but their cloth gags successfully muffled their protestations. They were left in their excruciating bondage, forgotten in their pink and yellow tights as they watched the Hall slowly empty.

It was past midnight, and in spite of Alexander’s pronouncement, there was a definite chill in the air in the castle courtyard. Sir Antony and Sir Dominic prodded the bedraggled form of Prince Felix at the head of the procession. Raymond staggered out into the cold: bare-chested and acutely aware of the fact that his naked bum was hanging out the back of his split tights. Alexander hovered menacingly at his shoulder.

The stark and ominous form of the gallows loomed in the moonlight. Raymond felt sick. The last thing he needed was for Alexander to be reminded of the fate that had oh so nearly befallen him this evening. Would he even live to see another morning, Raymond wondered, or would his naked body be swinging from that rope before the cock crowed?

Alexander turned to address Raymond and the Prince: “Now, my lads. Let’s have the two of you standing against the castle wall, side by side. So we can take a good look at the pair of you!”

Alexander flung Raymond towards the stone wall and the blond Prince Felix – seething at the indignity of it all - came to stand next to his partner in crime. Laughter continued to bubble from their intoxicated audience. They were quite a sight, mused Master Courcey: two sexy young men – one blond, one dark – stripped naked to the waist: their pert bums and muscular thighs clad in body-hugging tights, hating the fact that they were being ogled and leered over by the common peasantry, sweet goo congealed and clinging to their beautiful forms.

Felix’s filthy cloth gag slipped loose from his mouth. “You were ordered to clean me!” demanded the Prince.

“Have no fear, your Highness. It’s time for your ablutions...”

Right on cue, a shaggy carthorse appeared in the courtyard, and behind it trundled a large wooden wagon. The pageboys Humphrey and Mortimer guided the horse over the cobbles.

“What new mischief is this, Courcey?” cried the Prince.

“Let me introduce your highness,” replied Alexander, “to the castle fire engine.” He walked over to the wagon and slapped the large wooden barrel. “This is full of gallons of ice cold water. I think we should hose you both down, don’t you think? Get all that nasty gunk off your lithe young bodies!”

Antony and Dominic unfurled the hose from the side of the fire engine and at a signal from Alexander, unleashed a powerful jet of water at the cringing young men.

“Aaaaaahhhhh!” cried Felix in shock as the full blast of freezing water hit his chest.

Raymond gulped in shock and his teeth chattered as he too was soaked through.

The force of the stream was painful as it pummeled their bodies. The two young men did their best to avoid the stinging water. But as they attempted to dodge the flow, they merely turned the activity into a game for the onlookers. Yet more laughter rang in their ears as the icy water chased them up and down the length of the castle wall, dousing every inch of their bodies.

Eventually, Alexander raised his hand and the water was extinguished. Both lads sank to the ground, exhausted by their exertions, their tights sopping wet and their teeth chattering.

“Now wasn’t that refreshing?” mused the Steward, an evil grin playing around his lips.