The New Page Boy

The New Page Boy

Thursday 24 April 2014

Chapter 44 - A Cushion of Cake





The world had turned upside down, thought Raymond desperately to himself. How could it all have gone so desperately wrong? In less than a day, his prospects had plummeted alarmingly: far from becoming a major power and influence over the throne, he now found himself in a distinctly precarious position.
He sat miserably in his chair at the end of the Great Hall: Alexander de Courcey’s hateful hand still gripping his shoulder and reminding him that there was no possible chance of escape. He looked up at the high vaulted ceiling where the bound and gagged Ulfgar and Odin dangled in their humiliating hosiery: the seams stretched to breaking point as they cut deep into the Viking’s ass cracks.
However, the gawping guests had all but forgotten about the savage giants, as the centre of attention was now undoubtedly the beautiful but despised Prince Felix. The proud young Adonis, desperately seeking to retain his dignity in spite of his very public spanking, had been released from being bent over his godfather’s lap, and now stood, panting heavily with rage and frustration. He faced Lord Geoffrey.
There may still be a chance you can keep your head,” hissed the Prince, “if you kneel before me and beg forgiveness for the treatment I have endured at your hands.”
The silver-haired lord nodded solemnly as he appeared to consider Felix’s offer. The Hall held its breath. Would Geoffrey yield in the face of his royal godson? Eventually he spoke. “Perhaps I was a little hasty. It is, after all, a momentous thing to overthrow a monarch. You want to become king, your Highness? Well, a king must have a coronation, must he not?”
You have finally regained your senses, godfather,” snapped Felix.
Geoffrey gestured to the raised dais where his ornate throne stood in the centre of the Hall. “It’s not quite as grand as Westminster Abbey, but it will suffice. We shall hold this most sacred of ceremonies here. You will indeed be King Felix, God’s own anointed.”
Felix looked around him suspiciously, noting the sinister smiles of Lord Geoffrey and his knights. The older man stepped close to him, and placed his hand on Felix’s chest. The Prince flinched and scowled.
Hmm… it occurs to me that his Highness is somewhat overdressed for the occasion. Alexander… would you be so good as to divest him of his tunic?”
Alexander stepped forward, a mocking smile playing about his lips. “It is good to see you again, your Highness,” he said. “Although our positions are somewhat reversed since our last meeting, wouldn’t you say?”
How dare you? To even consider laying a finger on me!”
Oh I think that beautiful body of yours is going to experience more than just a fingering.”
Crude laughter erupted in the Hall.
Alexander slowly circled the outraged Prince. With the lightest of touches, he reached out to stroke the royal butt cheeks, those forbidden, yet divine globes of muscle, glistening and shimmering in their bejewelled hosiery. Felix gritted his teeth as the older man fondled his bum, still smarting from its spanking, but the threat of Sir Antony’s sword kept him still for now.
I seem to recall that the last time I touched you, your Highness, you had me flung in prison under false pretences. You flaunted your arse at me, and then, like some prick-teasing whore, you whipped it away. Well you know what they say, young man: everything comes to he who waits…”
Alexander stood so close to the Prince that their tights-covered bulges practically touched. The Steward, a couple of inches taller than Felix, breathed softly into the younger man’s livid face and began to unbutton the Prince’s satin doublet. Soon the jacket was unfastened and Alexander smirked openly as he pulled at the sleeves and revealed the broad, smooth pectoral muscles of Felix’s chest.
Such a handsome young fellow, your Lordship,” remarked Alexander. “You are wise to expose his body for all to see.”
Felix fumed in impotent silence. There he stood before his inferiors and his subjects, stripped of his bolero jacket and naked save for his bejewelled tights and satin shoes.
Take off your shoes, boy,” ordered Lord Geoffrey. “I want to see you in your stockinged feet – standing before me in only your hose.”
Raymond rose instinctively. “Allow me, your highness.”
Geoffrey shot him a warning glance. “You stay where you are, boy. My godson needs to learn some humility. He can bend over and take his own shoes off now.”
Might I make a suggestion?” asked Alexander. “The Prince should turn his back on his guests as he removes his footwear. That way they get the best possible view of his bum as he bends down.”
Excellent,” replied Geoffrey. “Well, Felix – you heard Master Courcey. What are you waiting for?”
The Prince glared at his godfather, but Sir Antony was weighing his broadsword particularly ominously and ultimately the Prince had no choice but to bend over, his tights-clad bubble butt presenting itself for the delectation of the gathered throng.
You see how straightforward life will be if you continue to learn your new status, my son,” said Lord Geoffrey amiably. “Now I wonder – for the sacred rite of coronation, should the Prince be entirely naked?”
Felix blanched in horror at the prospect. But he need not have worried as Alexander quickly intervened. He had no desire to see the Prince divested of his gorgeous and extremely tight-fitting hose. “Plenty of time for that later, my Lord! But perhaps a tiny adjustment or two would be in order.”
Raymond recalled how particular Alexander had always been about the proper way for a man to wear tights, and he was not surprised to see the Steward reach around the Prince’s torso to grasp the waistband of his hose.
We’d better make sure these are pulled up as far as they can go, hadn’t we? Our friends Odin and Ulfgar up there provide an excellent example of how one should wear one’s tights, don’t you think?”
Felix squirmed as the clinging material was yanked firmly up between the delicious curves of his arse, neatly bisecting his plump butt cheeks.
Much better,” said Alexander with satisfaction, and he allowed his palm to linger against the Prince’s buttock. “Ah – still warm from your spanking, your Highness. Is your little bot-bot sore?”
You’ll pay for your impertinence, Courcey,” spat the Prince. “If it’s the last thing I do.”
Come, come, Felix,” said Lord Geoffrey. “There should be no rancour on a joyous day like today. Now, it’s time for you to come and take your rightful place – on the throne.” He gestured to the ornate chair. “You must process through the Hall so that all your loyal subjects can pay their respects – and then you may finally rest your aching buttocks on that fine, velvet cushion.”
The Prince hesitated, unwilling to take the demeaning walk through the snickering throng.
Good Sir Antony - escort the Prince, will you? He seems reluctant to go alone.”
Sure enough, the threatening form of the fair-haired knight loomed at Felix’s shoulder, and the Prince felt the sharp point of Antony’s sword prod the naked flesh between his shoulder blades. Attempting to muster all the dignity he could, the King’s son placed one white stockinged foot in front of the other and made his way slowly, in his ultra-snug tights, to the throne. The Hall rang with mocking laughter as he was paraded in front of them, stripped to the waist - his indecent hose offering no kind of protection to the lower half of his body: his glittering crotch was on full display for the audience’s inspection and amusement. He reached the throne and began to lower himself onto the seat in preparation for what he knew would be a travesty of the sacred coronation ceremony.
Wait a moment, godson!” called Lord Geoffrey from the top table. “Alexander, would you be so good as to plump up the cushion so that it’s as comfortable as possible for the Prince?”
My Lord, it would be an honour,” smiled the Steward, and clicking his fingers, Humphrey the fat page boy appeared in the doorway from the kitchen. The lad was carrying aloft a gigantic cake. Mistress Olwen had clearly gone to town here: the fat sponge base was decorated with lashings of white chocolate mousse and thickly whipped cream. Humphrey, practically drooling at the delicacy in his arms, transported the cake to the centre of the Hall. Then, he placed it carefully, as he had clearly been instructed to do, on the seat of the throne. Felix watched with the dawning realisation of what was going to happen next.
Come along, your Highness,” beckoned Alexander obsequiously. “Come take the weight off your stockinged feet and rest your smarting bottom.”
You’re mad,” declared the Prince, “if you honestly think I’m going to sit down in the middle of a giant cream cake!”
Alexander shook his head sadly and glanced towards Lord Geoffrey, whose face became suddenly stern. The Lord bellowed at his godson: “Do as you’re told, boy!”
The party guests began to clap slowly, excitement gathering at the prospect of the handsome Prince being forced to deposit his arse in the midst of the gooey cake. Felix seethed, but the prodding point of Sir Antony’s sword was eloquent, and the Prince had no choice but to position his muscular, hosed bum over the cake.
The clapping continued and was now joined by an excited chant: “Sit! Sit! Sit!” Gingerly, his face grimacing in anticipation, Felix began to lower his buttocks towards the waiting confectionary. The mocking laughter of the crowd rang in his ears as his arse made contact with the cake, and he gulped back a stifled sob as he felt the cold whipped cream touch the pristine whiteness of his tights.
Get on with it, boy!” snapped Lord Geoffrey, and with an evil grin, Sir Antony slapped Felix's naked shoulder with his palm. The sudden force plunged the Prince's bum to into the very centre of the cake.
Splat! Thick cream spurted out of either side of the throne and an anguished “Aargh!” slipped from Felix's lips as he was overwhelmed by the humiliating sensation of his tights-clad buttocks sinking into the cold, gooey wetness of the velvety gateau. His breathing quickened as he heard the hooting, mocking laughter of everyone in the Hall, and as the gunk seeped into his tights. He wanted to leap up and flee: but he was going nowhere. Sir Antony's strong hands kept him firmly in place. He began to squirm in agony, desperate to be free from his predicament, but his writhing served only to rub even more of the gungey cake into his arse.
Dear me,” tutted Lord Geoffrey. “Have his Highness's nice clean tights got all dirty? Stand up, young man. Let's have a look at them!”
Felix gritted his teeth in fury. Sir Antony finally released his grip on his naked shoulder, and slowly, he rose from his chair: dollops of gloop falling from his backside as he did so. “You bastard...”
Hush, boy. That's distinctly unroyal language, don't you think?” Geoffrey smiled indulgently. “Now, turn around and show everyone your filthy little arse.”
A snarling grimace marred the Prince's beautiful features as he slowly shuffled to display his bottom to the assembled throng. Alexander chuckled to himself. Sure enough those peachy globes were now spattered with globs of moist chocolate cake and streaked with gooey cream. The hooting laughter of his subjects rang triumphantly in Felix's ears.
You naughty boy – squashing that delicious cake,” murmured Lord Geoffrey. “It's quite ruined – as are your tights. How are they feeling by the way? Bet they must be rather sticky against your boy bum”.
When my father finds out what you’ve done” –
Ah, but that’s not terribly likely, is it, Felix? You were quite prepared to leave him to rot in his prison. And on this rare occasion, I’m inclined to agree with you. Now, my loyal Alexander, what do you suggest next?”
Alexander winked at Lord Geoffrey, “Well, your Lordship. The seat of his Highness’ tights have been sufficiently messed up. In the interests of symmetry, it seems only apt that the front of them should be too.”
Excellent! What do you suggest, Master Steward?”
Alexander’s eyes twinkled with malice as he produced a large silver platter from behind his back. “I was thinking – Mistress Olwen’s delicious raspberry blancmange?”
Felix, snarling with fury, spat at the Steward, “You wouldn’t dare!”
Wouldn’t I now? Do you really think I wouldn’t dare tip this whole blancmange down the front of your tights and rub that ice cold, fruity pudding into your princely crotch? After all we’ve done to you so far, you learn perilously slowly, your Highness. We know we’ve crossed a line now, and we have nothing more to lose, isn’t that right, your Lordship?”
Precisely, Alexander. We’ve all gone this far. There’s point no stopping now. I have a feeling your ritual humiliation is only just beginning, Felix. It would be far simpler if you were to accept your fate.”
Never!” declared the proud young Prince. However, Lord Geoffrey merely shrugged.
It makes no difference,” he said. “You’re going to be gunged and messed up regardless. You can waste your energy scowling and cursing if you wish. In fact, it’s rather amusing to see.” He turned to Alexander. “In your own time, my friend.”
Master Courcey came face to face with the defiant Felix and fixed him with a devilish smile. The Prince flinched as, with his left hand, Alexander grabbed the waistband of Felix’s diamond-encrusted hose and pulled it towards him. He glanced down and raised an eyebrow.
Well, look at that pretty royal cock lying there, all clean and perfumed and unsuspecting.”
Felix clenched his fists in frustration.
Are you ready, my Prince?” he cooed. “Then down we go!”
And with that, he gently tipped the platter towards the Prince’s smooth stomach, and the gelatinous blancmange began to slide its wobbly way down the tray and towards Felix’s naked flesh. The Prince held his breath as the dessert slithered ever closer. Alexander paused, levelling the tray teasingly and temporarily slowing the blancmange’s descent. Then, just as abruptly, he tipped the tray vertically. The pudding plummeted downwards, and, with a resounding “squelch!”, landed squarely in the gusset of the Prince’s tights!
A deep, ragged breath escaped from Felix as the chilly gunk made contact with his cock: he gasped as his prickhead sank into the goo and the cool blancmange slowly fell in glutinous blobs around his bollocks.
Alexander let go of the waistband of the tights, allowing it to snap back into position against the Prince’s torso, and then his hand moved south. He hesitated for only a moment, before slowly, but surely, beginning to massage the bright pink gloop into the Prince’s crotch.
I knew that, one day, I would get my hands on your royal meat,” purred Alexander in the Prince’s shell-like ear. “How does that feel? You like the sensation, don’t you? Me rubbing that gunge into your cock and balls. All cold and wet. Lubing you up. You can grimace all you like, your highness. But I know what I’m doing. And I know just how to manipulate a submissive boy cock. I can make you feel sooo good. Breed you. Milk you. Or I could keep you permanently and tantalisingly on the edge of orgasm. Forever if I so desire.”
He continued to knead the milky pudding into the young man’s groin. “Ah, there we are. You’re starting to get hard, aren’t you? In spite of yourself, you’re enjoying this. I knew you would, Felix. Shall we show everyone, eh? Shall we reveal to all these people just how your throbbing dick is straining against your soiled tights?”
He removed his hand away and stepped to one side so that his eagerly expectant audience could enjoy the view. Sure enough, crotch of the agonised young Prince’s white tights was damp and stained with a blossoming bloom of lurid pink. The outline of his cock was standing rock hard as it pressed urgently against the constriction of that oh so tight, silken garment.
What a messy boy!” catcalled a lout from the crowd.
Yes!” responded Alexander. “Filthy young man – bright pink blancmange tipped down the front of his tights. How humiliating for him, eh?”
Prince Felix blushed the same dark pink as the pudding as the hall rocked with raucous laughter at his shameful predicament.
Raymond couldn’t help but look. The Prince’s body, which he had lusted after all this time was there, exposed for everyone’s enjoyment. And crushingly, it was further from his reach than it had ever been. How he wished he was in Alexander’s place, the one fortunate enough to be meting out the humiliation to the arrogant Felix, getting the chance to tip food over his god-like body and embarrass him in front of all these yobs. Raymond cursed the gods for his ill-luck, and, then, remembering for the first time his pretty young sister, looked over towards the kitchen. Jane had clearly anticipated which way the wind had turned and, whilst everyone’s attention was fixed firmly upon the spectacle of the humiliated Prince, she began to creep towards the door. Raymond allowed himself a sad little smile for what might have been. At least she might make her escape, he though to himself. But at that very moment...
Where do you think you’re going, missy? Surely you’re not thinking of leaving us so soon?”
The buxom form of Mistress Olwen the cook interpolated itself between Jane and the exit. Gripping the girl’s wrist firmly, the older woman propelled Jane back into the Hall.
There’s a reckoning to be had, madam,” she continued, her eyes flaring triumphantly. “And neither you nor your brother are going to avoid it.”
Jane struggled, but Olwen was stronger and the girl’s efforts were in vain. The cook threw a gloating look in Raymond’s direction and his heart sank even further.
Don’t I know it!” he murmured to himself.