Alexander strode through the monastery garden, the smell of lavender and rosemary mingling as he passed. He found Brother Ralf standing by the gate.
“That rogue has definitely gone, Brother?” inquired Alexander. “I can leave one of my men here just in case.”
“Thank you, Master Courcey, but I’ll place my faith in the Lord.”
“Up to you. I suppose you do have a cohort of young men here who can beat him off with their rakes and hoes.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Alexander turned to inspect the various youths diligently at work in the garden. His well-trained eye was instantly drawn towards a tall, broad-shouldered young man with dark brown hair. The novice monk had been watching Alexander with a kind of urgent desperation. As Alexander’s gaze rested on him, the young man turned away, but it was too late. He had clearly been watching him.
“What’s his name?”
Brother Ralf glanced over. “That, my Lord, that is Brother Hal.”
“I’d like to speak to him.”
The monk sighed. “As you wish, Master Alexander.”
The young man’s olive skin and hazel eyes were most appealing, as were the way his long dark hair fell across his forehead. And if Alexander wasn’t mistaken (and he knew he wasn’t), the novice couldn’t quite take his eyes from Alexander’s silken bulge.
Brother Hal knelt on the grass, his hands dirty with soil. Alexander towered over him: his hose-clad groin level with the novice’s handsome face.
“My Lord,” he murmured.
“Brother Hal,” replied Alexander. “Please, stand. There’s no need for you to kneel before me.”
Hal rose to his feet.
Alexander said nothing. The young man was tall - indeed they were roughly the same height. Alexander looked at him: a slight smile playing around his lips - a challenge in his eyes. Hal’s breathing became faster: his tongue appeared briefly, nervously moistening his full, pink lips. Alexander’s smile grew broader. He hadn’t been mistaken after all. Eventually he spoke.
“I’m a little thirsty, Brother Hal. Maybe we could step inside and you could provide me with some refreshment.”
“Will water suffice, my Lord? I could sweeten it with a little of Brother Ralf’s elderflower cordial if you would like…”
“Oh I think you’re quite sweet enough, my lad. Don’t you?”
A look of nervous confusion passed across Hal’s face. “My Lord?”
“Come over here. You’ve not been able to take your eyes off my crotch since I arrived. have you? Well, be my guest - have a good feel. I think we’d both enjoy that.”
Suddenly, Alexander grabbed Hal’s wrist, and before he knew what was happening, the young monk found his clammy palm pressed against Alexander’s rock hard cock.
Hal gasped as he felt the sinewy serpent twitching beneath the fine material of Alexander’s tights.
“You’re quite a beauty, you know,” purred the older man. “Seems a shame for you to be shut away in here.”
“Pl-please, my Lord,” stammered Hal. “I’m a simple man. I want only to serve God. I don’t envy you your extravagant life at the castle.”
“Extravagant, eh? What have you heard about life under Lord Geoffrey? And more importantly, from whom did you hear it?”
Hal looked more nervous than ever.
“Don’t be scared, boy. No harm will come to you from speaking the truth, you know that surely? Now tell me. You spoke to Will, didn’t you?”
Hal nodded.
“Do you know where he is now?”
“Please, my Lord,” begged Hal in anguish.
Alexander cradled Hal’s cheeks gently in his palms. “I don’t want to hurt him,” he said softly. “I just need to find him. You see, I owe that boy my life.”
A flicker of confusion passed across Hal’s face.
“Were you his master? The one who locked him inside that cruel metal chastity device?”
“I was indeed his master, but no, I’m not responsible for caging his pretty prick.”
“I see.”
Alexander moved even closer, and planted a wet, lingering kiss on Hal’s full lips. Then he entwined his arms around the younger man and held him in a tender embrace.
“Now, tell me where he is.”
“Back again so soon, Alexander? I never realised you were such a devout Christian…”
Alexander looked at the chubby Abbot. There was a definite hint of irritation beneath the obsequious veneer.
“Oh but of course, your Grace. What do you take me for? In fact that’s the very reason I have not yet departed.”
“Oh?”
“I realised it would be most remiss of me to leave the monastery without spending some time in prayer with you, our holy Father.”
The Abbot nodded sagely. “Of course, of course. I’d be delighted to give you my blessing.”
“What I wish, more than anything, is to see - maybe even hold - some of the holy relics that you have here.”
“Relics?”
“Come now, there’s no need to be coy with me. I hear the shin bone of Saint Veronica is here in your reliquary…”
“Mere rumour…”
“That’s not what I hear. And surely you wouldn’t deny me the chance to gaze on such a divine relic.”
“Alexander “ -
“Now, where could it be? A-ha! Surely it must be in this beautiful cabinet…”
Alexander strode over to the corner of the room.
“No!” cried the Abbot. “There’s nothing in there. Just brooms, buckets…”
“Surely not. Such expert craftsmanship cannot house a mere store cupboard!”
Alexander tried the door handle. It was locked, as he anticipated it would be. He turned to the Abbot and held out his palm. “The key?”
“I - I don’t have it,” stammered the sweating cleric.
“Maybe you could check amongst the bunch that dangles from your belt…”
Alexander did not wait. Instead he lunged for the key ring and snatched it from the cord at the Abbot’s waist.
“How dare you!” spluttered the Abbot, but Alexander ignored him as he swiftly sorted through the keys.
Alexander turned to him with a triumphant flourish. “Now, now, Abbot you must not guard your holy treasures so jealously! Beauties such as this should be shared, don’t you think?”
And with that he unlocked the cabinet and flung open the door. Sure enough, blind-folded, gagged and tied to a three-legged stool, sat the naked Will.
Alexander shook his head slowly and let out a low whistle. “Well, well. I never expected St Veronica’s shin bone to look like this.”
Less than half an hour later, Will - dressed again in a pair of rough hessian trousers and linen shirt - found himself on the back of a stallion, ridden by one of Alexander’s guards. If Will had expected an emotional reunion with the man whose life he had saved, he was to be disappointed. Alexander had barely said a word. He had merely bundled him out of the monastery, lingering only to speak briefly to the ashen-faced Abbot.
Will had managed a garbled goodbye to a clearly startled Brother Ralf, but although Will searched the vegetable patch for a sign of Hal, the handsome novice monk was nowhere to be seen.
So, once again, he was at the whim of this strange, powerful man. And as he risked a glance at Alexander’s Mephistophelean features, he felt bewildered by the Chief Steward’s attitude. What had happened in the many months since he’d helped Alexander escape from the dungeon? Was he still a fugitive? Was the tyrannical Prince Felix still reigning despotically? It seemed he was to be given no opportunity to ask, and the guard - around whose waist Will clung - was in no mood to chat.
As they thundered along the dirt path that led from the monastery, Will realised they were heading for the castle. What could that mean? Was he destined once again to be tormented by his merciless foe, Raymond? It was all so confusing. Still, he’d find out soon enough, and at least he was finally free from the clutches of the repulsive Abbot Cuthbert.
The drawbridge rose, and Will once again found himself in the familiar surroundings of the castle courtyard. It all felt unreal - and a long time since that sultry summer day when he was led out of the castle, tied over the back of a horse, his cock imprisoned in its steel cage, his arse stuffed with melting bars of soap, his legs encased in his fine blue tights.
Alexander trotted on ahead, and the Steward did not even glance behind him. The guard reined in his steed, dismounted and lifted Will to the ground. The guard nodded to a pretty young serving wench who had apparently been awaiting Will’s arrival.
“You’re to come with me,” said the girl, who turned on her heel and hurried into the castle.
Will didn’t recognise her, but he tried to question her as he followed in her wake.
“You’re new here?” he asked.
“That’s right. My name is Iris.”
“Is Prince Felix - ?”
“I’m not supposed to answer your questions. Just give you your instructions.”
Will nodded mutely. He’d spent the last year and a half with little idea of what would happen to him from one moment to the next. Why should things be any different now?
Iris led him to one of the castle’s guest bedchambers. It was not as ornately decorated as those of Alexander or Lord Geoffrey, but it was certainly more comfortable than the straw pallet he had bedded down on during his time as the junior page boy. A large wooden tub filled with soapy water sat in the corner of the room.
“You’re to bathe,” said Iris. “Then get dressed in these clothes.” She gestured to the bed. “And then you are to wait.”
She bobbed a little curtsey and went to the door.
“But”- began Will.
“I’m to tell you no more.”
And then she was gone.
Will stripped, bathed, and towelled himself. Then he went to inspect the garments awaiting him on the bed’s coverlet.
In one way, he was not surprised: a leather collar, a thin, leather strap, soft leather pumps, a waistcoat and the inevitable pair of tights. Will thought back to the first day he’d spent in the castle, stripped and manhandled by the leering Master Yorick. However, apparently on this occasion he was to be trusted to dress himself.
He reached out to stroke the silky, sensuousness of the hosiery. He lifted them to his face and breathed in their fresh, clean odour, the material caressing his cheek. Instantly, and inevitably, his cock began to stiffen. He didn’t hesitate, but wrapped the leather cock strap around his engorged penis, keeping it hard and throbbing. Then he sat down on the bed and gathered, first one, then the other leg of the tights. They were purest white, and almost seemed to shimmer in the candlelight of the chamber. They must be very expensive - and he had to be careful not to rip the fine material as he tugged it over his calves. He stood up and hoiked the hosiery as high as it would go - almost reaching his little pink nipples. Then he adjusted the seam at the back so the material disappeared into the crevice of his arse. They fitted perfectly, and Will had to resist the temptation to rub his cock through the clinging material. For he knew, if he did, he would not be able to resist climaxing, and the pristine tights would be spoiled with his cum.
Instead, he slipped his stockinged feet into the soft, white leather pumps, and then pulled on the waistcoat - white again, and this time embroidered with gold thread. He wondered at the finery, even as he attached the slave collar - that reminder of his lowly position of servitude - around his neck.
He admired himself in the mirror. He had lost a little weight in the past six months, unsurprisingly. But his leg muscles still bulged pleasingly in his hose, and he sensed he would still be considered attractive to the kind of man who enjoys sexually abusing youths. He wondered what future awaited him now, and which powerful man would be next to seek to subjugate his body.
He was not left pondering for long, as the door swang open, and once again, pretty little Iris appeared. She glanced at his new attire, her eyes lingering appreciatively on his hose-covered legs and bulging crotch.
“Come with me,” she said.
Will didn’t attempt to question her again as he was led up the familiar staircase to the Chief Steward’s chambers. He remembered his first visit to the richly decorated rooms: how nervously he had waited as Alexander had inspected every inch of his young body. He had no more of an idea of what awaited him now than he had all those months ago.
The room was much as he’d remembered it. The sole difference was that a wooden table was laid for supper. Two chairs sat at either end. He turned to speak to Iris, but she had already slipped away.
Instead, a familiar, sonorous baritone rang in his ears.
“Well, boy, it has been quite some time, hasn’t it?”
Will span around. Sure enough, there stood Alexander Courcey: as refined and handsome as ever, long burgundy robes hanging from his shoulders. Satin black tights clung to his lean thighs, with calf length leather boots on his feet.
“You must be hungry. Come, join me for supper.”
“Me, Sir?”
“Who else? We have much to catch up on, after all.”
Will marvelled at the bizarreness of being treated like an equal by the man who for so long had dominated and tormented him.
“You look nervous. I can understand that. But let me assure you, this is no trick. It’s true that I have played games with you before: teased both your mind and your body for my sexual gratification. But you can relax. You are safe now. No lecherous priests, thuggish thieves or sadistic princelings are lurking to ravish that perfect arse of yours…”
“Prince Felix?”
“His rule is over. He is safely locked away in the castle dungeons.”
“As safely as you were?” asked Will, with a cheeky grin.
“I venture I’m a more effective gaoler than Felix was.”
“And Raymond?”
“Ah, of him I know nothing. Other than that he is no longer a resident of the castle. Or indeed in England at all.”
“So you are - ?”
“Restored to my previous position.”
Alexander smiled. “Now, let us eat.”
They did so, and as they did, Alexander related his adventures: his flight from the castle, his recapture and his subsequent salvation. Will gawped as Alexander informed him of the precise details of the downfall of Raymond and the Prince.
Then it was Will’s turn, and Alexander shook his head in disbelief as he listened to the unfortunate twists and turns that had eventually led Will to being at the mercy of the lascivious Abbot Cuthbert.
“He is no holy man, my Lord, I can tell you that,” said Will, as he crammed another chicken drumstick in his mouth.
“Oh, I’ve long suspected him of being a monstrous hypocrite,” nodded Alexander.
“It shouldn’t be allowed. He’s supposed to be a man of God. He should be punished.”
“In a fair and equitable world, you are undoubtedly correct. But surely you cannot be so naive to think that we live in such a world. Especially after your own personal experiences, eh, Will?”
“So he’ll get away with it?”
“Oh I wouldn’t go that far. I now have a very useful point of leverage when it comes to my future interactions with the Abbot. One I intend to exploit ruthlessly. Have no fear, he will live to regret putting his hands on you.”
With that, Alexander rose from his chair and gazed at Will intently. “Now, speaking of putting hands on you…”
Will gulped. He guessed this was coming sooner or later. Alexander’s eyes had burned with lust for him all through their meal.
“Come here, Will.”
Will rose and walked towards the older man. His mouth felt parched and his heart fluttered nervously.
Alexander picked up the ice cold bottle of champagne from the table and poured it into his goblet. He lifted the goblet to his lips and filled his mouth. Then he pulled Will’s still damp blond locks to him and planted his mouth on Will’s. Will’s lips opened willingly and as they did so, Alexander deposited his champagne into Will’s mouth. Will gulped the liquid down, and Alexander proceeded to probe the boy’s mouth with his long, experienced tongue. Will’s crotch twitched as the taller man pressed against him. Their tights-covered bulges began to grind against one another.
Eventually, Alexander withdrew his tongue, leaving Will gasping for air.
“There have been times this year when the only thought sustaining me has been the notion that I might get to fuck your perfect arse once more time. And now I am going to do something I have never done before. I am going to ask you if you want me to fuck you. If you say yes, I promise you it will be the best sexual experience you have ever had, and that I will devote myself entirely to your arousal. But for the first time in my life, I am not going to force myself on a young man whom I desire. The choice is yours. Now what do you say?”
