Chapter 64 - A Champagne Celebration

         Will didn’t quite understand it himself, but he knew in the deepest, darkest parts of his soul, he wanted it to happen. He licked his lips, gazed into Alexander’s dark, cat-like eyes and nodded.

Alexander grinned triumphantly. “You won’t regret this, boy.”

Will was divested of his waistcoat and pumps, leaving him wearing only his slave collar and sheer, white tights. Alexander led him in to the bedroom.

“And it seems you’ve finally accepted your true nature,” he hissed in Will’s ear. “You struggled at first, I know. But now you know you need to be used and abused. You’re just my tights-wearing bitch boy.”

Alexander took Will’s wrist and led him to the bed. He took a silk scarf and tied Will’s left arm to one bed-post, and then his right arm to another. He drank in the sight of the sexy, bare-chested youth, clad only in his clinging white tights. He was aware of the all too apparent danger that might come from merely gazing at the boy. All these months of fantasising …He hadn’t dared dream that he would ever be able to use the page-boy again. And now he could.

Will looked up at his master anxiously. There was no turning back now. He had willingly submitted to whatever Alexander had in store for him. He tugged slightly, testing the bonds at his wrists, but they were secured as surely as night follows day. He writhed a little, enjoying the sensation of the silken sheets against his hosiery, knowing the sight of him wriggling his legs would excite Alexander. 

The next thing he knew, that familiar bottle of potion was thrust under his nose.

“Breathe deep, bitch,” murmured Alexander. And Will did so.

The potion coursed through his veins, making every fibre of his being feel charged with eroticism. 

“Open wide, slut.”

Will did as he was told, and was rewarded with another mouthful of champagne as Alexander kissed him: long and hard and deep.

Then Alexander’s warm, manly hands were all over his body: stroking, groping, pinching. His nipples were taken between Alexander’s lips and nibbled till they became hard and erect. Will groaned in ecstasy as Alexander rubbed his hard cock through the sheer fabric of his white tights.

Then he felt Alexander’s face buried between his arse cheeks: his master breathing in the scent of Will’s rosebud hole. Alexander’s tongue pressed through the hosiery, pushing and probing at that darkest and most intimate of places. Will moaned again. 

“Yes, Sir, please, Sir,” he incanted.

“What, boy? Tell me what you want.”
“I want … I need you in me, Sir. I need my tights master in my boy hole.”

“Oh how your master loves to hear you beg…”

Will gasped as he felt Alexander’s fingers tearing the delicate material. And then it came - the glorious sensation of Alexander’s wet tongue slobbering at his hole, at first merely licking and teasing at the edges, before pushing deep, deep inside of him.

Pre-cum leaked from Will’s excited cock, staining the front of his tights. Alexander had not lied when he told Will he would devote himself exclusively to the younger man’s pleasure. Will’s hole was licked and sucked with the expertise of a Dunchester whore, and Will gasped in ecstasy as his sensitive opening was pleasured by Alexander’s tongue.

Eventually, just as Will began to think he might climax from the sheer sensation of being rimmed, Alexander knelt up.

“As this is a celebration, my lad, I think it calls for more champagne, don’t you?”

Alexander slipped into the other room and fetched a couple of bottles from the ice bucket. “I’m going to give that hole of yours a real treat, boy.”

Will gazed up woozily and watched Alexander uncork the bottle.

“Let’s get it nice and fizzy, eh?”

Alexander placed his hand over the aperture and proceeded to shake the bottle vigorously.

“Here we go…”

Then, removing his palm at the very last moment, he pushed the neck of the bottle into Will’s well-lubricated arsehole.

Will cried out in shock as he felt the ice cold liquid shoot inside him. It wasn’t the first time his guts had been flooded with alcohol: that had been at the hands of the devious Ebony, back in the filth and squalor of Lunk’s hideout. But that had been mere cheap grog, not this luxurious libation, directly from Sir Geoffrey’s wine cellar.

“What an extravagant treat, for you, young pageboy! A champagne enema!” Alexander cried.

The acid liquid stung his sphincter, and Will’s body convulsed with shock as the gassy fluid flooded deep into his bowels: “Ah! Ah! Ah!”

Alexander lifted Will’s ankles over his head so his arse was pointing up in the air, ensuring the bottle was vertical so its contents could more easily glug into the boy’s anal cavity. Then he started to fuck Will with the bottle itself - in and out, in and out - depositing even more of the champagne into the lad’s helpless body as he did so.

Eventually, Alexander withdrew the bottle and its still fizzing contents began to spray around the room. 

“Open wide, boy! Take a good swig!”

Alexander tipped the liquid into Will’s mouth, the younger lad gulping eagerly to try and swallow its contents.

“Drinking champagne at both ends of your body,” murmured Alexander. “How delightful decadent! Oops-a-daisy - it looks like I’m being a little careless.”

And with that, he began to pour the liquid all over Will’s body, letting it fall in spurts, first soaking the boy’s hair and face, before proceeding to drench his white tights. Will quickly began to feel light-headed as the alcohol infused his bloodstream. His cock remained hard as ever as Alexander baptised him with the champagne: an obscene parody of the religious rite. Alexander himself took a swig from the bottle. 

“Excellent vintage!” he declared. “Only the best for you, my sweet little slut!”

Then he was back kneeling between the boy’s thighs. Alexander massaged Will’s pulsing arsehole with his fingers, and then, without warning, he plunged the bottle back into the orifice, depositing the rest of the champagne inside the boy’s bum. Only once he was sure the bottle was empty, did Alexander remove it, tossing it casually into the corner of the room.

“It’s no use,” he admitted. “I cannot wait any longer.”

And with that, he lowered Will’s tights-clad legs and rested them on his own shoulders. 

“I don’t think I’ve fucked a boy with an arse full of champagne before…”
Will held his breath in preparation for the onslaught. He did not have to wait long. It had been several months since he had been penetrated by a real cock: not since the thieves and ruffians of Lunk’s gang had subjected him to their relentless onslaught. The Abbot, after all, had stopped short of putting his own stubby dick inside him - a fact for which Will was eternally grateful - and had instead used only his fingers and the wooden dildo on Will’s puckered opening. It had been even longer since he had been fucked by Alexander’s sinuous man-meat. But once experienced, the Chief Steward’s prick was not easily forgotten. Will gritted his teeth as he felt the mushroom head nudging at his sphincter. And as Alexander forced it inside him, a cry of agony and ecstasy escaped from his throat, just as a spurt of champagne escaped from his arse. The acidic fluid made Will’s hole tingle on its exit just as it had on its way in, but it was not at all an unpleasant sensation. Alexander paused for a moment to allow Will to become accustomed to the presence of that monstrous cock inside him. And then he began his onslaught: slowly at first, and then with growing urgency, rocking back and forth. As Alexander’s cock churned up the gassy liquid, Will could not help but emit a loud belch.

Alexander merely laughed. “Oh your sweet, satiny chute is as delightful as ever! That’s it boy, clamp down on my cock. Remember how good it feels to have your tights-master fucking you…”

Will did remember. And there was no resistance now: no guilt or anxiety.  There was no point fighting it any longer. He finally accepted his vocation. He was a tights slut. He existed merely to provide pleasure to his master. And finally he admitted to himself that he wanted it, needed it, indeed craved it, just as much as Alexander did.

Alexander’s cock continued to plunge into the lagoon of champagne inside Will’s arse. The last time he had fucked Will was on the dirty dungeon floor, in the straw and the piss; a stolen, frightened, desperate fuck, certain it would be the last chance he’d ever get to possess this beautiful boy. And now, he thought, look at the squirming little slut! Will’s white tights were rendered transparent from the soaking with the champagne, the potion coursed through the lad’s body, his hole clenching against Alexander’s cock as he ploughed in and out of that sexy little body.

It was no use. He could hold back no longer. With a triumphant cry of ecstasy, Alexander came, shooting his load into Will’s body, as another spurt of champagne leaked from the page-boy’s arse. Will’s body bucked as Alexander filled him with his jism, lacing the champagne with his cum.

Alexander’s orgasm went on and on: all the pent-up months of desire for the peasant boy finally fulfilled. After what felt like an eternity, he withdrew his cock, champagne and semen dripping from its end and, squatting beside Will’s face, slapped him across the cheek with it.

“Lick it, bitch,” he commanded, and Will did so: his tongue lapping up the droplets as eagerly as a mongrel laps up water from the street.

“Now, do you want to cum, too?” he teased. “Or shall I just leave you here, tied up until pretty little Iris comes to change the bed linen?’

“Oh, please, Sir,” gasped Will. “Please let me cum!”

His cock strained against the enclosure of his clinging white hose. 

“Hmm… We shall see. Let’s top you up first.”

Alexander strode into the other room and fetched another bottle of champagne. 

“You’re to keep the rest of that champagne inside you. I want you to release it when you cum.

Alexander shook the new bottle vigorously, a leering grin spreading evilly across his face. Then, quick as a flash, the bottle was uncorked, and losing as little of the fizzy drink as possible, he rammed the opening up Will’s pulsing hole.

Will almost came in that instant as once again the cold shock of the champagne shot deep inside his body. His stomach gurgled and cramped as Alexander filled him up.

“Breathe, boy, enjoy those cramps as they torture your poor guts! They’re your reward, after all!”

The discomfort of his cramping belly only turned Will on even more: Alexander’s hands seemed to be everywhere, forcing more of the potion under his nose, groping him through his sodden tights, tweaking, pinching, slapping, rubbing, and finally wanking Will’s rock-hard dick through the sheer hosiery.

The bottle was withdrawn, and now Will’s task was to keep the fluid inside him, as his bowels gurgled and churned. He clenched his sphincter tight, every sinew straining to obey his Tights-master’s order. 

Alexander wanked Will’s cock urgently, frantically. And just as Will felt the sensation building, and just as he was about to come, Alexander abruptly stopped.

“Oh I could spend all night long edging you closer and closer, boy. Imagine it! To be brought so close only to be perpetually denied the ecstasy of release.”

Will could hardly imagine anything more devastating - and tantalising.

Soon Alexander was rubbing Will’s cock again, just as another cramp hit the boy’s belly. Alexander prodded and rubbed Will’s bulging abdomen.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” cried Will. “Oh I’m close, Sir! I’m so close!”

“Then come for me, Tights-bitch, and spray that champagne enema out of your slutty hole!!”

Will did not need to be told twice. As the next wave of cramps hit him, he squeezed his bowels, and the flood of liquid spurted out of his anus, just as his thick cock streamed wave after wave of wet hot jism into his sodden tights. He screamed in ecstasy as Alexander laughed joyfully to see the effect his erotic ministrations had had on the boy.

The orgasm seemed to go on and on and on. But eventually the waves subsided, and the panting boy lay gasping for breath, soaked, but happy. The scarves at his wrists were loosened and he was released from his bondage.

And then Alexander held him, in a warm and affectionate embrace. The older man gazed down thoughtfully at the peasant boy.

“And did we enjoy that, my little tights-slut?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, Sir,” gasped Will. “Oh yes, I did.”

“Your quest was successful then, my friend.”

Sir Geoffrey smiled benignly at his Steward.

“It was indeed, my Lord. The page boy seems remarkably resilient. In spite of his travails at the hands of Prince Felix, and his adventures on the road, the boy has survived.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Alexander. What will become of him now? Is he to return to his duties at the castle?”

“I think not, my Lord. I am still mulling over his future. With your permission, I think I shall keep him lodged in my chambers. At least for now.”

“Given your loyal service, I think making a gift to you of this particularly enchanting young man is the least I can do.”

“My Lord.” Alexander bowed deeply.

“Now, to other matters. Christmas will soon be upon us, and after the terrors and traumas that we have all suffered over the past year and a half, I think we should throw a Winter festival here at the castle and invite all the villagers and townsfolk from miles around. What say you, my friend?”

“A wonderful idea. And perhaps - I can arrange some entertainment?”

‘Alexander, you know, I think that would be a wonderful idea.”

Chapter 60 - The Pear Pops

 

    “Is baby ready for his din-dins?”
    Alexander smiled down at the Prince. What a truly ridiculous sight he was! Crawling on his hands and knees in his jester’s costume, diaper bulging through his blue and yellow tights. He knew that, inside, Felix would be howling with impotent fury. How he must long to hurl himself at his implacable foe, but all he could do was gaze up at Alexander’s log, shapely legs in their deep purple hose, and drool.
    At that moment, another agonising stomach cramp hit the Prince. He had been suffering for an hour or more already: his bulging belly must feel like it was stuffed with a concrete football, his arse crammed with that big, unyielding pear. Although he could not articulate speech, nevertheless Felix could not hold back an undignified howl of pain. And Alexander knew that no matter how hard he squeezed his bowels, there was no way that he could rid himself of the contents of his distended belly.
    “What’s the matter with him?” asked Queen Katharine, her lip curling in distaste.
    “He is hungry, your Majesty,” replied Alexander. “Perhaps you would care to feed him? I have his bottle of milk right here…”
    “Do you take me for a nursemaid, Master Courcey? I did not feed my own children when they were babes. I’m certainly not going to do it for my grown nephew.”
    “I will give our poor young Prince his dinner,” interjected Lord Geoffrey. “I am his godfather after all.”
    Geoffrey settled himself into a high-backed chair, spreading his firm thighs in their red hose, as Alexander scooped Felix into his arms and placed the Prince into Geoffrey’s lap.
    “There, there, little baby boy,” cooed Lord Geoffrey into the Prince’s flushed face. “Let’s get you comfortable.” And he shifted the young man’s muscular form so that his nappy-covered bum rested in Geoffrey’s lap, and his fabulous legs - one blue, one yellow - dangled inches above the floor.
    Alexander solemnly handed his master the over-sized baby’s bottle, fill to the brim with warm, frothy milk. “Now we should see some action,” he whispered in Lord Geoffrey’s ear. Then he took a step backwards into the shadows. Only he knew that the milk was not as innocuous a mixture as first appeared. In fact he had added a considerable dose of a powerful laxative, that when ingested would finally force Felix to expel the gallon of porridge that was tormenting his guts.
    “Here we go, young man, drink it all up now!” smiled Lord Geoffrey as he pushed the bottle between the Prince’s pouting pink lips, and started to pour the milk down the young man’s throat.
    Alexander knew the last thing Felix wanted would be to have his stomach filled any more, but he was powerless to resist: all the Prince could do was kick his tights-covered legs feebly, gurgling weakly as a milky residue dribbled out of the side of his mouth. Queen Katharine watched with barely disguised horror as her mind raced to assimilate this new development.
    Soon the bottle was empty. Lord Geoffrey removed it from his godson’s mouth and, as he did so, the Prince let out a big burp.
    “What a windy little baby you are!” declared Geoffrey, as he began to rub his godson’s bloated belly.
    The Prince grimaced with discomfort.
    “Ah goo-gah-gah!” he said plaintively. But Alexander knew that the tormented young man would not have to wait long for release.
    Almost immediately, there was a rumbling in Felix’s tummy. The Prince began to squirm, but Lord Geoffrey held the struggling body tight on his lap. The battle in the Prince’s guts grew stronger, and he began to kick his legs, so that his pointed jester slippers fell from his feet.
    “Ooh - aah!” he cried, and Alexander knew that the purgative had started its devastating work. He imagined he could almost see the tempest brewing in the young man’s belly, as the laxative began loosening the Prince’s clogged up guts. The pressure grew, and in that moment, an overwhelming spasm from Felix’s tortured bowels caused the blond youth to squeal in pain.
    “Aaaaaargh!” he yelled, and Alexander knew the pressure against the pear blocking Felix’s arsehole would be building now. The battle between that stubborn piece of fruit blocking the exit of all that nasty, lumpy porridge was being fought inside Felix’s very body. It was a delightful irony that the Prince’s tight, barely used arsehole was preventing the relief his body so desperately craved, but it was inevitable that, sooner or later, the hole would have to give way.
    Felix was sweating and panting now, in animal desperation: all inhibitions shed. Little could he care that he was dressed like a big baby, in a jester’s costume, big padded diaper and particoloured tights, wriggling like an infant on his godfather’s lap, whilst the Queen of Spain and the dignitaries of the Spanish court looked on in bewildered distaste. All he wanted was to experience the blessed joy of emptying his stuffed bowels, even if it meant that in the process his puckered anus would have to stretch wide enough to accommodate the expulsion of that juicy pear.
    He stared up into Alexander’s gleeful face, imagining the commentary that was running through the Steward’s perverted mind:
    “Yes, little baby bitch. You know you want to get rid of that horrible porridge, don’t you? That gunk that I forced up your reluctant hole an hour or so ago and that’s been torturing you ever since! Well you know there’s only one way that’s going to happen, don’t you? You’re going to have to push that fat pear out through your boycunt, aren’t you? It’s going to hurt of course - it’ll stretch your ring wide as wide can be, but there’s no other way of getting that oatmeal enema out of your body! Push, bitch! Shit that pear out of your boy pussy and fill your diaper. Once you’ve done that it will be easy. Imagine all that gunky porridge finally flooding from your hole! You know you want to! Imagine how good that will feel! Do it, bitch! Push that pear out!”
    Felix knew it would hurt. The blunt end of the pear nestled against the inside of his sphincter: there would be no gradual expansion: the bulb of the pear was far too wide. Would it tear him, he wondered. It had gone into his body, so surely it must be capable of coming out again?!
    In the end, the whole debate was wrested from his control. The impatient laxative delivered what felt like someone kicking him in the guts. The spasm was too powerful for anyone to resist. The pear - seemingly with a mind of its own - began stretching his boy pussy.
    “Ah! Ah! Ah!” he gasped.
    The pressure was relentless - and then his arse had stretched beyond the widest point of the bulb, and the pear was propelled - like an arrow from a bow - into the soft wadding of his nappy.
    The Prince screamed with the intensity of the sensation, as, as sure as night follows day, the oozing crud followed the pear out of his hole.
    “Ooh - ooh - ooh!” Tears sprang to the corners of his eyes: the utter humiliation of him, a grown man, the Crown Prince of England, helplessly shitting warm porridge into his diaper, even as the intense relief of finally being able to let all that lumpy slime out of his poor body.
    There was a lot to come and the laxative accelerated the process considerably. Felix felt the lumpy gook smearing itself down between his buttocks and accumulating at the bottom of the diaper. It felt warm and wet against his skin as it continued to shoot out of his hole. Soon his balls were coated, as the effluent went on erupting out of his chute. He felt it spreading in both directions within the nappy - warm wetness against his butt cheeks, and against his cock. Shit, he thought to himself. I’m hard! Why the fuck am I hard?!
    The farting noises emitting from Felix’s backside could leave the spectators in no doubt that the Prince was suffering the indignity of filling his diaper in front of a very distinguished audience. Again, Queen Katharine grimaced at the base level to which her nephew had descended.
    “You needed that, my boy, didn’t you?” smiled Lord Geoffrey, as he patted the Prince’s belly, wiping the tears from his godson’s flushed features. Geoffrey kept his palm resting on Felix’s swollen stomach and began to move it in a circular manner. “Any more to come?” he enquired innocently.
    Right on cue, a further torrent of porridge that had gathered higher up in the Prince’s body, gleefully flooded into the diaper. The sticky wetness engulfed Felix’s entire crotch, and the paralysed Prince began to panic that the diaper would not be large enough to contain the congealing ooze.
    “Let me see now,” said Lord Geoffrey, “How full is this nappy?” And he reached around to pat the seat of the bulging diaper through the stretched material of the silken hose.
    “Oh dear me,” he exclaimed. “You have given us a big deposit, your Highness! That’s one full diaper if ever I saw one.”
    The Prince winced inside at the humiliation of having his nappy-clad arse prodded and patted by his silver fox of a godfather. However, as he was still robbed of either the power of speech or any meaningful physical control of his limbs due to Alexander’s dastardly potion, all he could do was fume internally.
    He became aware of a low, murmuring, and soon he realised that his aunt was in whispered conference with one of her Spanish attendants. Felix recognised him as Conde Esteban, a close advisor to the Queen and a man rumoured to be her paramour. They were speaking in Spanish, presuming that neither Geoffrey nor Alexander were fluent in that language.
    “Don’t be a fool,” his aunt was saying. “What use is he to us now?”
    “The people might still flock to your banner,” replied the Conde. “He is the rightful heir - surely they will not submit to these power-hungry nobodies?”
    “Yes! Yes!” screamed the Prince. “The people will rise. Rescue me! Liberate me from these perverted traitors!”
    Unfortunately for him, his outraged cries could only echo uselessly inside his own head.
    “The people are fickle,” muttered the Queen. “They resent my brother-in-law’s foolish foreign skirmishes, and there is no great love in this land for my pampered nephew.”
    “Then why are we here? If the scheme is so hopeless…”
    “I had hoped to tutor my spoiled nephew in diplomacy. With his good looks and with wiser heads whispering in his ear, we could maybe have won round the waverers. Now I’m not so sure.”
    “Ack! Ack!” cried Felix: the only words of protest he could manage as he saw his hopes of liberation slipping away. For a moment his frustrations overpowered the distasteful sensation around his private parts as the warm porridge cooled into a grey sludge.
    “What’s the matter with him?” snapped the Queen, returning to her native tongue.
    “May I?” interpolated Alexander smoothly. “You will recall, your Majesty, the Prince did ever have a sweet tooth. Although he has regressed to infancy, the urge for sugary confections has not deserted him. He always insists on a sweetie after his din-dins!”
    Quick as a flash, Alexander produced a small red sweet from his doublet and pushed it between Felix’s unsuspecting lips. Before he knew it, the Prince had swallowed it. Unbeknownst to the Queen, Alexander’s education had included a smattering of more than rudimentary Spanish, and he had decided to add a final twist of the knife to the Prince’s predicament.
    Within mere seconds of swallowing the pill, a strange sensation began to overwhelm Felix. It started in the pit of his sore and abused stomach and slowly began to blossom outwards across his entire body. It was not unfamiliar to him, and just before it possessed his entire consciousness, he realised with dismay, that it felt very similar to the strange potion that Alexander had offered him to inhale all those months before when he had tricked him into his bedroom.    
    The Steward himself exulted silently: for as it happened, the pill he had fed the Prince contained the distilled essence of that very brew: and would, he felt sure, have an identical effect. He watched, entranced, as the Prince’s pulse slowed and his breathing grew deeper. Slowly, Felix began to writhe in his godfather’s paternal embrace, and helplessly, hopelessly, his crotch, buried deep between the soiled diaper and the particoloured tights, began to rise and fall with unfulfilled desire.
    “Hngh, hngh,” murmured the royal baby, and he scrabbled to try and roll over onto his front. Alexander knew exactly what was occurring: the primal urge to rub his engorged prick against something - anything - had sent all other thoughts out of the Prince’s intoxicated brain.
    Geoffrey raised a surprised eyebrow in his Steward’s direction as Felix eventually manouevred himself so that his belly lay on his uncle’s right thigh, and his thick, nappied groin rested on the trunk-like mass of the left one. There could be little doubt as to what the Prince was trying to achieve, as, hypnotised by the drug, his body began to undulate, rubbing his groin rhythmically against his uncle’s hosed leg.
    The Prince’s mind was overpowered by the single aim of climaxing: his cock rock hard, but it was buried deep in the gunk of the cold porridge, the soggy layers of the diaper, and the silky hosiery of his jester’s suit. All this ensured that there was nowhere near the friction necessary to achieve orgasm. Felix tried harder - like an animal, a mere bitch on heat, his hips rising and falling as he tried desperately to cum. But all was hopeless: his cock squelched into the gunk but it was like trying to fuck water: the hard muscle of his godfather’s hosed thigh remained tantalisingly out of reach.
    “Noooo!” he moaned as the need to cum grew ever more urgent: his big fat, diapered ass bouncing up and down in the air as he tried to gain purchase against Geoffrey’s leg.
    Once again, he imagined Alexander’s mocking monologue racing through his sex-obsessed brain: “Look at you, Prince Pussy Boy! Desperate to cum in your dirty diaper and your ridiculous tights. Forced to lie across your godfather’s lap and hump his legs just to achieve some kind of satisfaction! And you can’t even manage that. Little baby boys with little baby pricks don’t get to cum if they’re all wrapped up in their full nappies, do they? But how a horny little bitch like you must need it, eh? How humiliating for you!”
    Suddenly a brilliant idea penetrated the fog of sexual frustration: surely the hard wooden boards of the apartment’s floor would provide the necessary friction. Barely in control of his own limbs, Felix wriggled himself from Lord Geoffrey’s lap, and began crawling across the floor. With a great sigh, he sank gratefully onto his belly and again began to thrust his desperate crotch against this new surface.
    The monologue in his mind continued: “Yes! There you go, bitch boy! That’s all you’re good for! Humping your pathetic, rock-hard penis against the floor. Dressed like a fucking ridiculous fool, your blue and yellow tights pulled up high containing that big saggy, soggy nappy: all full of congealing porridge, coating your bum and your cock and balls. That big nasty pear that blocked your boy hole for so long, still sitting there too, pressing itself against your arse, wanting to go back inside you. And you want it back up there too! That hole of yours must feel mighty empty now that your big fruity plug has pushed its way out and all that porridge has flooded out of it. Maybe I should shove it back up there - pull your tights down to your ankles, reach into the waistband of your nappy, feel through all that wet mulch, find it, and force it back up your sore and aching boycunt. I bet a bitch like you would love that, eh?
    “Look at you now! Slamming that horned-up dick of yours against the floor like a fucking animal. That’s all you are. My slut bitch - to be filled up when I feel like it with whatever I have to hand - porridge, fruit: it’s all the same to me. And then I’ll feed you pills, get you horny and make you hump the ground just for my amusement. Fuck me, look at those legs of yours in your tights. Fucking ridiculous slut bitch, humiliating yourself just for my pleasure. Come on now, boy. I’ve waited long enough. I want to see you cum! Cum in your tights for me! Cum in your messed up diaper! Do it bitch! Do it! Now!”
    How was the fucker in his head like this, wondered Felix, tears springing from his eyes yet again at the sheer frustration of being unable to cum. Maybe that was another part of the fiendish pill he’d been fed? It made you horny but unable to actually climax.
    “Cum, you little cunt! Do it! Cum in your dirty nappy, tights slut! Do it!”
    His cock-head almost numb from being plunged against the floor, Felix finally began to feel the slow build in the very bottom of his balls that presaged an orgasm. Oh thank fuck, he thought. Finally!
    And yet, just as he was about to fill his diaper with his royal seed, his arm was grabbed and he found himself being rolled over onto his back. He screamed with frustration, as his arse once again squelched into cold porridge.
    “That’s enough of that, young man,” admonished Lord Geoffrey. “Your aunt is present. Have some decency.”
    The Queen’s expression was as icy as her blue eyes. “I think we have seen enough,” she said, as she swept out of the chamber, hastily followed by her grovelling retinue.
    “I must attend to Her Majesty,” said Geoffrey gravely. “I trust, Alexander, that I can rely on you to attend to the Prince.”
    Alexander bowed his head to his master. “Of course, Sir.”
    Soon he was left alone with his royal charge. Felix lay breathless, red-faced and frustrated on the floor.
    The Steward tutted with mock solemnity. “Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.”
    The Prince’s hips continued to buck uncontrollably: the desperate urge to cum still unfulfilled.
    “Oh very well. I’ll take pity on you,” sighed Alexander, theatrically. He slipped his foot out of his leather boot and placed it on the royal bulge. “Hmm, I can feel that cock of yours rock-hard through your nappy, young man. I will rub it with my foot for precisely sixty seconds. If you don’t cum in that time, you will go back to the dungeon frustrated.”
    He began to press his hosed foot against the Prince’s straining cock.
    “I can feel all that porridge in your diaper, swirling around your private parts. And that pear must be resting in the seat of your tights too. Maybe that would give you a further thrill eh? Let’s have it back up inside you!”
    Quick as a flash, Alexander bent over and reached beneath the Prince’s writhing body. It took him no time at all to locate the hard lump of fruit nestling beneath the Prince’s buttocks, and he grabbed the firm bulb.
    “Back up we go!” And with all the force he could muster, he shoved the pear back inside the Prince’s ravaged hole.
    “Aaaaaargh!!!” screamed Felix as the hated object invaded him once again, stretching his hole as wide as it would go.
    “Come along, my royal bitch slave,” purred Alexander, as his frottage of the boy’s crotch became more vigorous. “Cum for me now. Cum in your dirty diaper. In those tights! Do it!”
    “Ah! Ah! Ah! Ahhhhh!” The manipulation of Alexander’s skilled footwork did its kinky work and Felix’s entire body convulsed as the orgasm overcame him. His poor cock pumped wave after wave of royal cream into his already sodden diaper. Oh the relief! That was all he could think of as he gazed into Alexander’s cruel smile.
    “Better?” inquired the Steward. “Now I wonder what your aunt made of that little spectacle, hmmm?”   

Chapter 57 - Sin on a Stool

“You seem quiet this morning, young Will,” smiled Brother Ralf. “Something on your mind?”


There was indeed. And it was principally the handsome face and muscled body of Hal the novice monk. He’d cum four times in the night thinking of him. And no good would come of falling in love with a man destined for the monastery. “You’ve been very kind to me, Brother Ralf but I can’t stay here forever. I think it is time I went on my way.”


“Is that safe?” enquired the monk. “That villainous robber may yet be lurking.”


“I can’t hide forever,” shrugged Will. “And it is time I took charge of my own life.” He did not tell Ralf that at the moment, he felt more nervous about being under the same roof as the sweaty and lascivious Abbot than whether Ebony and his gang of ruffians were nearby.


“Well we’ll miss you, that’s for sure. You’re a good lad. And a hard worker. If ever you need us, we’ll be here for you.”






Will had no belongings of course. The kindly Brother Ralf had packed him some provisions, but other than the hessian trousers and linen shirt on his back, he would be travelling light. He intended to slip away quietly from the monastery, too ashamed to look at any of the young novices after the humiliating lesson he had been exhibited in. And as much as he yearned for a final glimpse of Hal, he decided it would be wiser to do without.


However, as so often before in Will’s young life, fate was to intervene.


Just as his hand came to rest on the handle of the monastery door, he felt another’s hand on his shoulder.


“Surely you’re not leaving us so soon?” hissed the sibilant voice of the Abbot.


Will shrank away but the fat cleric was stronger than he looked. “I thought you’d be pleased,” Will stammered. “After what you said about me. You said I was possessed by the devil. Why would you want me under the same roof as holy men?”


“Ah, my poor boy! The Lord moves in most mysterious ways! Why, I wish to purge you of the demons that torment you, my son, can’t you see?”


“That’s very kind of you, I’m sure, but”-


“It seems you are determined to go,” sighed the Abbot. “At least permit me to give you a blessing before you set off.”


The fat man smiled his oily smile.


Now it was Will’s turn to sigh. “Very well,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”






They were in the Abbot’s private chambers once more. The same place where Will had submitted to the peculiarly invasive physical examination that the fat cleric had insisted upon. The Abbot smiled again his sickly smile.


“Come, lad, and kneel before me.”


Will did so a little hesitantly - bemused by the absence of religious ranting compared to the Abbot’s classroom lecture.


“Now, lift your arms above your head, boy.”


Again Will did as he was told, and he was not entirely surprised as the Abbot lifted the his thin blouse over his head to expose his smooth, bare chest.


An involuntary gasp escaped the Abbot’s saliva-coated lips as he turned to fetch a phial of holy water from the cabinet behind him. As he began to pour the fluid onto Will’s scalp, he murmured an incomprehensible Latin prayer, making the sign of the cross above Will’s head.


“And now, boy, you are free to leave.”


Will wiped his wet forehead, unsure of the exact etiquette of dealing with holy water. He nodded to the Abbot, rose to his feet and headed to the door.


“Just one thing more!” cooed the holy man. “I should really inspect that chastity device at your groin before you go. It would be most unfortunate if it became infected in any way…”


Will might have known his departure would not be quite so simple. And what was he to do now? How would he explain that his cock had finally been freed from its cruel cage? And worse, would the Abbot want to touch his dick now that it was free?


“Why so coy, lad? It’s not the first time I’ve inspected you after all…”


“It’s alright, your Worship. I’m fine. Thank you for your blessing.”


Will backed away from the sweating Abbot.


“Oh no, boy. That won’t do at all! In fact, I insist!”


And in one rapid movement, the Abbot tugged at Will’s rough trousers and pulled them down to his ankles. Will gasped in surprise - and his cock, so recently free from its months of imprisonment, bobbed automatically into semi-hardness.


The Abbot was triumphant. “So it is indeed true!” he crowed. “Your wicked lustfulness has infected this holiest of places! And you have even led astray one of my dear sons, you sinful succubus!”


The fat man waddled over to the confessional box in the corner of his chamber, and opened the wooden door. “Come out, young novice. And face the creature that has tempted you so…”


Will’s stomach gave a little leap as Hal stepped reluctantly from the cubicle.


“What’s going on?” Will asked.


“Allow me to explain, you young minx! Novice Henry here came to me for confession this morning and admitted to having lustful thoughts. I had hoped my boys here would draw on the Lord’s strength and resist the temptation that you have brought into our home. But it seems I need to take more direct action.”


The Abbot moved more swiftly than Will anticipated, and before he really knew what was happening, the Abbot had looped a string of rosary beads around Will’s wrists and tied his arms behind his back. A second string was tied around his neck.


“What are you doing?” Will cried.


“I do not have to explain myself to you, you spawn of Satan!” declared the Abbot, as he shoved Will in the small of his back. Will stumbled forwards, his feet becoming free of his trousers as he did so. He was now naked, and his damned cock - neglected for so long - stiffened even further in spite of himself.


“See this animal!” spat the Abbot, quivering fervently. “He is consumed by sexual appetites!”


Will gazed into the anguished face of the handsome Hal. The demons he was battling seemed to be internal ones.


The Abbot waddled over to a cabinet and fumbled with a key. As he unlocked the door, Will thought he could glimpse an array of items and implements that would look more at home in the castle dungeon than in the private belongings of a man of God. The Abbot snatched a small wooden stool from his closet and placed it in the centre of the room. Both Hal and Will gawped in surprise. In the middle of the seat, a smooth wooden pole, some seven or eight inches in length pointed to the ceiling. Will did not have time to question exactly why the Abbot should posses such an item, but he had a horrible feeling that he was about to become rather intimately acquainted with it.


Sure enough, the Abbot grabbed the rosary beads encircling Will’s neck, and dragged him over to the stool. Will struggled, but the fat man had weight on his side and was stronger than he looked. “We will subdue you, demon!” he muttered manically.


“You’re mad!” cried Will. “Let me go!”


He struggled to free himself from the Abbot’s sweaty embrace and recoiled from the fat man’s greasy palms.


“You cannot escape from me, devil! I have the Lord on my side. Now - knee before the altar!”


Will found himself forced to his knees in front of the draped table, and the possessed Abbot pushed down his head so that his forehead rested on the floor. The fat man held Will in position, Will’s naked arse pointing vulnerably towards the ceiling. Suddenly Will felt the Abbot’s sausage like fingers fumbling at his arsehole, depositing an oily gunk around his puckered orifice. The Abbot was working himself up into a frenzy, and began pushing his fingers into Will’s backside.


Will began to breathe deeply. How long had it had been since his arse had been probed like that? Of course at the castle it had been a daily occurrence. Indeed, most of the time it had been stuffed with a large leather dong, and the moments of respite when his hole had been empty had been few and far between. Since his expulsion from the castle’s walls, his anus had been brutalised on more than one occasion by the monstrous Lunk and his cronies, and his beer enema at the hands of the sadistic robber, Ebony, rated as a particularly memorable experience. However, his weeks in residence at the abbey had given his poor bottom some much needed relief. Nevertheless, as the Abbot pushed and pried at that most private part of his anatomy, a weird sensation began to rise in him. Had his arse actually missed all that attention? Was it indeed possible that he secretly yearned for his hole to be plugged once more?


He was afforded little time to wonder. Soon the sweating cleric had hefted him onto his feet and positioned him over the stool, Will’s lubricated asshole hovering above the wooden pole.


“You will be restrained, devil!” frothed the Abbot. “Your wickedness is no match for me!”


“No! Stop! Please! Let me go!” begged Will. But his protests were in vain. The religious mania gripping the Abbot seemed to give him an almost superhuman strength.


“Down you go!” he insisted, pressing on Will’s shoulders. “I have coated this pole with holy oils. That should subdue the devil inside you!”


Will tried to resist by bracing his legs, but the Abbot had spilled oil onto the floor, and Will’s heels gave way on the slippery surface. The fat monk took advantage of Will’s lack of balance by plunging him downwards, impaling him on the wooden dildo.


“Ah! Ah! Ah!’ Will gasped as the entire length of the pole entered him and pressed bluntly against the nub of his prostate.


The Abbot wasted no time in tying a cord around Will’s slim waist, which he then knotted underneath the wooden seat. Will tried to raise his naked torso from the invasive wooden phallus but it was stuck fast. He glanced over to see Hal standing miserably against the wall. Will tried to process the surprising news that Hal had been entertaining lustful thoughts about him, and then realised with shame, that the young novice could not help but see that Will’s pretty little cock was throbbing at his groin. Will’s body had betrayed him. It seemed he did yearn for his arse to be probed after all. Nor had this escaped the Abbot.


“Now we see why you had to be kept in that chastity device!” the Abbot shrieked, his eyes bulging. “Your perversions are truly foul to behold!”


Will blushed a deep shade of red at being humiliated so comprehensively in front of his new-found friend. How had it happened that in this last year and a half, he had turned into a slut boy whose cock sprang into action the moment his arse was plugged?


“Brother Henry!” declared the Abbot. “You must confront your base desires. I order you to approach this whorish demon!”


Hal shook his head from side to side, his glossy black hair swishing as he did so. But he dared not ignore a direct command from his superior. Tentatively he walked towards Will.


“Remove your robes!” the Abbot continued. “You must be naked to receive true absolution.”


It crossed Will’s mind that the Abbot had an unorthodox approach to sinfulness - and one which appeared to involve young men stripping off their clothing as regularly as possible. But Hal seemed not to question the command, loosening the leather belt at his waist, and allowing his plain brown robe to fall to the floor. He stepped out of his sandals and took another step to where Will sat impaled on the three-legged stool.


Will gulped as he saw Hal’s naked body for the first time: the familiar square jaw and dimpled chin, his long, honey-coloured neck, the Adam’s apple bobbing nervously; broad shoulders; firm slabs of pectoral muscles and strong, bulging biceps; smoothly chiselled abdominal muscles leading down to a little dark fuzz at his crotch where a long, veiny cock with a large mushroom-shaped head that pulsed, erect and proud. Hal’s legs were long and his quad muscles were like slabs of ham, his calves equally shapely. Even in his current predicament, Will could not help but conjure how those amazing legs would look encased in some of Master Yorick’s finest hosiery, caressing the masculine contours, and disappearing deep into the crack of that ass.


He was afforded no further time for such contemplation however, as Hal had reached him. Indeed, his straining man-meat was mere inches from Will’s flushed face. The two young men were breathing deeply: lustful sweat beaded on their torsos and in their armpits.


When the Abbot spoke, his voice sounded strangulated with unfulfilled lust: “Do it, Brother Henry. It is the only way to rid yourself of these devils which afflict you. Touch this diabolical imp! Do to him all that you desire!”


Hal did not need to be told twice. He knelt on the hard wooden floorboards, and gently cupped Will’s face between his hands. He gazed deep into Will’s big, brown eyes and lightly brushed his lips against the younger boy’s. It was a simple action, but Will’s cock pulsed at the tenderness of the touch. Almost immediately, Hal kissed him again - this time more firmly, holding Will’s mouth in place, and tentatively pushing the tip of his tongue between Will’s generous lips. For his part, Will could not help respond.


“Yes! Yes!” crowed the Abbot. “Kiss those devilish lips. Push your tongue into that diabolical mouth! Own and possess the little slut, Brother Henry!”


Hal needed little encouragement. However long he had been denying his own sexual urges Will could not know, but now he was being encouraged, nay commanded, to give them free rein, the explosion of sexual urgency was undeniable. Hal’s long, probing tongue pushed deep into Will’s mouth, and Will could only respond in kind. Their tongues swirled around each other in an erotic dance, their naked chests heaving, both of them emitting muffled grunts of ecstasy.


Even now, Hal seemed reluctant to touch any other part of Will’s tight little body, but in that moment, Hal felt his hands being guided onto Will’s pink nipples.


“Touch his tits,” intoned the Abbot in Hal’s ear. “Do it! Squeeze them, pinch them, lick and bite them till the little slut moans!”


The helpless Hal did as he was bidden, bending his dark head forward to suck desperately at Will’s nubs. Will shifted ecstatically, the prodding wooden dildo finding new pressure points deep within him, and he threw his head back as Hal’s mouth worked over his sensitive nipples.


“Now the ultimate in perversion!” the Abbot shrieked. “Take the slut’s erection into your mouth! Do it, Brother Henry! Do it and abase yourself before the Lord!!”


Will’s cock was already leaking precum freely, and, as much as he prepared himself for the sensation of Hal’s soft lips on the sensitive head of his dick, he could not anticipate that glorious touch. Novice monk he may be, but Hal displayed no signs of inexperience when it came to sucking cock. He fell to it as if he had spent his life working the alleys of Dunchester, fellating the sexually frustrated labourers before they returned to the dull drudgery of their marriage beds.


He took Will’s pulsing prick deep into his throat, massaging the engorged flesh with his strong tongue. He buried his face deep in Will’s groin, slobbering, sucking and licking at Will’s recently liberated tool.


“You disgusting perverts! See how you befoul this holy place!” screamed the Abbot, as the two young men gasped and groaned: more animal than human.


Will felt the steady building of an oncoming climax stirring in his balls. “No, not yet. Not yet,” he pleaded.


Hal understood and withdrew his mouth from Will’s straining cock, returning to kiss him again, deeply and desperately.


“Begone, demons!” howled the Abbot, and as he did so, Will felt a splash of oily liquid hit him in the face. He opened his eyes to see the Abbot dancing around the two youths, spattering them with fluid from a large clay jug.


“With this holy oil, I abjure thee!” raved the obese holy man.


Ropes of the fragrant unguent spattered over the naked flesh of the young men, oiling their muscles and lubricating the frenzied contact between them. Will was desperate to touch Hal’s body: to feel those straining muscles and sweating flesh for himself. He struggled against the cord tying his hands behind his back, and somehow managed to free his wrists. Once he had done so, his hands were all over Hal’s athletic chest, groping, massaging, stroking, desperately wanting to reciprocate the welter of sexual gratification that Hal had aroused in him.


And then the ultimate prize: Will touched Hal’s rock-hard cock. How he wished this beautiful prick was deep inside his arse right now, instead of the cruelly indifferent wooden phallus. The oil continued to rain down on the two of them, making everything slippery and wet. Will’s fist clenched around the long shaft of Hal’s dick and began to move up and down, causing Hal to groan in sheer ecstasy.


Will reached forward as far as his position on the stool would allow, and cupped Hal’s balls - bunched tight against his body - with one hand. He gave them a little squeeze and then ventured on, between the smooth and rounded globes of Hal’s buttocks, to find the puckered opening nestling between them.


His hand fully lubricated with the oil, Will pressed gently against Hal’s arsehole, teasing, teasing - and then, with a little more force, he pointed his index finger and entered the taller youth’s most intimate of orifices.


Hal shuddered with the delight of having his arse penetrated for the first time in his life, and instantly returned to sucking Will’s cock.


“Filth! Depravity! You will be scourged!” rasped the Abbot, almost hoarse now. And Will flinched with shock as a stinging blow struck him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes to see the deranged Abbot swaying: a whip in his right hand. The fat man wasted no time, and began to rain down blow after blow on Hal and Will’s vulnerable nude flesh.


Such was the Abbot’s mania, several blows missed their mark, but occasionally the whip found its target, and the two young men flinched as their bodies were abused by the cruel implement.


Hal sucked at Will’s cock with increased fervour, and this time Will knew there was no postponing the moment of orgasm.


“Oh, fuck! Oh fuck! Oh Jesus! Oh fuck!” he began to incant.


“Hear how the devilish bitch blasphemes in its hot passion!” cried the Abbot. “This is your punishment, Brother Henry! Drink his foul seed! Drink I tell you! Drink!”


Hal needed no further instructions. As sharp stinging blows from the Abbot’s whip rained on his broad and muscled back, he gobbled desperately at Will’s pulsing cock. Meanwhile, Will continued to manipulate Hal’s rock hard dick, all the while his finger fucked Hal’s hole, as surely as the wooden dildo was fucking his.


The tension built and built, Will’s muscles bunched, and then the dam was broached and wave after wave of ecstasy swept over him as his cock spewed thick white jism into Hal’s beautiful mouth. Hal did all he could to swallow, but in spite of himself, some of the cream escaped from the corners of his lips. And then it was his turn: a thick white arc shot from his cock-head, leaping into the air and landing with a spatter on Will’s shoulder. A second emission shot up and hit Will right across the cheek, before sliding into Will’s gaping mouth, and onto his panting tongue.


Finally, breathing heavily, and orgasms over, Hal rested his exhausted head against Will’s oiled chest. Eyes closed, they nevertheless heard the grunting sounds of the Abbot fumbling in his crimson robes, and spilling his own sinful seed onto the wooden floor.

Chapter 53 - Stuffed in Scarlet

Alexander cuffed Raymond’s hands behind his back, telling him, “Just to make sure you don’t cheat!” Then he grasped the end of the wooden truncheon poking into the boy’s greased-up sphincter and pushed it an inch or so deeper inside.

“Now,” he said, “let’s see that talented, slippery tongue of yours put to good use! Bend over and pick up one of those fat marshmallows with your teeth.”

Raymond parted his lips as wide as they would go, and did as he was ordered.

“Good lad! Now get it nice and covered with spit. Take it in your mouth and let your tongue slide all over it. That’s right! Getting soggy now, isn’t it? Better be careful, we still want it to be in one piece, don’t we? It’s no use to us if it disintegrates before we push it inside his Highness’s butthole, is it?”

Effectively gagged by the massive mallow, Raymond could only utter a muffled “mmph” as his response. The dildo jabbed him in his arse, guiding him towards the bed, where the Prince remained, tied down, his red-hosed legs spread wide and pointing in the air. Raymond hobbled over, trying not to lose his balance, his tights rolled halfway down his thighs. He saw Felix’s eyes open wide as he approached.

“Crouch down, slaveboy,” cooed Alexander. “Get your face level with his Highness’s glorious bum. That’s it. Lower yourself slowly towards the floor. Ah! How convenient. I can wedge the handle of my wooden truncheon against the floorboard, and it will remain lodged within you, leaving me free to attend to the Prince.”

Felix looked with imploring eyes in the mirror at Alexander’s reflection. “No! You can’t! You mustn’t! It’s inconceivable – stuffing my arse with huge marshmallows! Anything! Please!”

“What an amusing moment for you to discover manners, Prince Felix. Too bad it will do you no good whatsoever…”

By now, Raymond’s face – marshmallow stuffed in his gob – was mere inches from the Prince’s sweating arse crack. Felix, horrified as he was, nevertheless could not tear himself away from the image, reflected over and over in the mirrored chamber.

“What are you waiting for, boy?” demanded Alexander. “The Prince’s rectum is empty and it expects to be filled by that sugary treat. Push it in – now!”

Raymond knew better than to disobey. He closed his eyes and guided the slicked up mallow towards Felix’s unwilling rosebud. He pursed his lips, and it felt for all the world as if he was kissing the Prince’s hole – only with the obstacle of the marshmallow between the two of them. He tried to angle his face for optimum effect and pushed the sweet against the unyielding crevice. All he seemed to achieve was squashing the marshmallow against his own cheek. The sweet was sticky and it stuck, disobligingly, to his own face.

“Oh dear,” sighed Alexander. “If you can’t even manage to get one marshmallow up the Prince’s chute, I shall be very cross with you, Raymond. And who knows how far my wooden dildo will go up your ass then…”

Raymond grunted with frustration and fear, and redoubled his efforts to try and manipulate the mallow and get it inside the desired target.

“Let’s see if we can loosen Prince Felix’s tight little sphincter for you…”

Alexander doused the handkerchief liberally with the lust potion and, with one hand gripping the back of the Prince’s sweating neck, he forced the fabric against Felix’s face. He left it there – longer than usual.

“A good strong dose will ensure you can open your hole more easily, my little arse slut,” he explained.

Felix’s senses swam as he was made to inhale the drug. And just as he thought his lungs might explode from lack of air, Alexander withdrew the handkerchief. The Prince began writhing in his bondage, acutely aware of all the sensations assailing him: his tights clinging to his sweating thighs, the ropes at his wrists and ankles, all of it so damned humiliating – and so damned erotic too! Then he felt Alexander’s strong hands placed on his naked buttocks – gripping them and pulling them apart.

“Don’t say I never do anything to help you, Raymond,” remarked Alexander. “There you go – the Prince’s pretty puckered opening is ready for you to make your deposit. Show him and me just how talented your tongue is. Make it nice and rigid, and push that pesky marshmallow inside. That’s it!”

“Nnnnnggghhh!” grunted Prince Felix as he felt the fluffy lump of mallow pressing against his asshole. Slowly, but surely, and totally against his will, he felt the muscle begin to give way and his hole began to open, finally allowing ingress to that stubborn, sticky sweet. His asslips tingled and he experienced the strange, undeniably erotic sensation of the invader moving inside his arse. His hole stretched to accommodate the marshmallow: wider, wider, and Felix threw his head back in a kind of ecstasy as the nerves in his anus thrilled to the unyielding pressure of Raymond’s tongue. And then – quick as a flash – the mallow slipped inside him and his arse muscles popped back into place.

“Ahhh!” cried the Prince, relief mingled with shame.

Raymond, panting from the exertion, withdrew his face from the royal arse, and as he did so, unintentionally impaled himself further on the wooden dildo. He too let out a startled cry.

“My, my,” chuckled Alexander, “What fortunate young men you are, to have your arses filled so delightfully!”

Quick as a flash, the Steward grabbed the handle of the truncheon and nudged Raymond to his feet. “Now the barrier has been broached once, it will make the second insertion much easier!” he declared.

Raymond tottered on his stockinged feet over to the sideboard, his face smudged with traces of sticky mallow.

“Now, I think it’s time for a profiterole!” said Alexander, steering Raymond with the rudder-like phallus over to the second bowl. “Come along, boy. You know what to do!” He leant over and whispered in the unfortunate youth’s ear: “Remember, I told you not so long ago in these very chambers, that you did not have what it took to dominate men successfully. Let this be a lesson to you, my lad.”

Raymond nodded sourly, and bent over to select a plump profiterole from the pyramid. Mouth open wide, and holding the pastry gingerly between his teeth, Raymond felt the dildo being withdrawn slowly from his greased up hole, so that its blunt end began to stretch him wider in anticipation of its expulsion.

“Now, get on with it, and stick that chocolately pudding up his Highness’s poop chute!” crowed Alexander, as he plunged the wooden truncheon back inside the youth.

Raymond’s body jolted with the shock of the dong pushing against the sensitive nub of his prostate, and he only just managed to hang on to the profiterole. He did not dare think what punishment Alexander might mete out upon him should he let the precious sweet fall to the floor.

         He repeated the motion as before, squatting down at the end of the bed, and grimacing as Alexander once again released his hold on the truncheon and secured it against the floorboards.

              “Better be quick about it, boy,” warned his master. “That chocolate coating will soon melt and get you all messy if you don’t hurry.”

            Raymond eyed up the smooth pink flesh of the Prince’s sacred opening, clamped shut once more. He pushed his chin forwards and, with no small effort, eventually managed to manoeuvre his face between those perfectly round buttocks.

         “No help from me this time, slave slut,” said Alexander. “You’ll have to get that profiterole up there all on your own. Although your task should be a little easier now the Prince’s pucker has been stretched somewhat. Now, what are you waiting for, boy? I don’t have all day!”

             Raymond planted his lips around the royal arsehole, and used his tongue to position the melting pastry ball against the wrinkled flesh.

          “Ha!” mocked Alexander. “Kissing the royal arse. Although I suppose you have a great deal of experience of doing just that, don’t you?”

             There was no way Raymond could reply, so instead he focused on his task. Once more making his tongue rigid, he began to push at the rapidly disintegrating profiterole. Alexander was right. This time the Prince’s hole did open more easily, and Raymond heard the Prince emit a sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh as the pastry slid between his asslips and joined the giant mallow inside his anal cavity.

               Raymond stepped back and took a deep breath. How conflicted he felt! On the one hand, here he was, finally getting to play with the beautiful Prince Felix’s arsehole: indeed, as far as he was aware, the first person ever to do so. How many nights had he fantasised about having that god-like body tied down and entirely at his mercy to use and humiliate!                 And here he was, getting to stuff that royal butt with sweets and treats, as the intoxicated Prince writhed and groaned with each new insertion. And yet, how differently the scenario had played out in his imagination! In his version, he had been the one in control: not the plaything of that bastard Alexander Courcey, as much at his old master’s mercy as was the Prince.

He caught sight of himself in one of the many mirrors on the bedchamber walls and blushed. Alexander spotted his cheeks reddening.

“Hmmm, not exactly how you envisaged dominating the Prince’s arse, is it?” he laughed, as if reading the younger man’s mind. “Chocolate smeared over your face, your silver tights pulled down to your thighs, and my big wooden dildo rammed up your tender hole! What a gorgeous sight, you and his Highness make! Him writhing in an induced ecstasy, and you scuttling back and forth to fill his bum with sweetmeats!”

Alexander gripped the dildo with one hand, and reached around to squeeze Raymond’s cock with the other. “Only semi-erect, eh? Half turned on, are we? But half humiliated too? Not that I’m really concerned one way or the other. I’m far more interested in slave boys’ arseholes than their pricks.”

As if to emphasise the point, he began to push the wooden dildo slowly further into Raymond’s hole.

“Mmm, yes, boy, stick out your arse to better accommodate my big varnished pole. In we go, deeper, deeper, raping you with a piece of wood. How delightfully degrading for you. And now back out again, almost all the way out in fact. How your cherry hole must long to be free of that nasty dildo fucking you!”

Back and forth, back and forth went the wooden dong, and Raymond’s cock, seemingly of its own volition, began to harden even more.

Then, abruptly as he had begun, Alexander stopped the motion, leaving the truncheon lodged deep in Raymond’s ass: stuck fast so that he could remove his hand and it still remained, protruding obscenely from between the lad’s buttocks.

“Now, let’s pick up the pace, shall we? We have many more of these goodies with which to pack Prince Felix’s ass. And you, young Raymond, have a job to do!”

For the Prince himself, the experience was one long nightmare. Thanks to the mirrored walls, there was no avoiding the spectacle he had become. Even if he closed his eyes, the image was burned onto his retinas. There he lay on his back on the bed, his arms and legs tied and spread wide in the air, his scarlet tights yanked down carelessly and humiliatingly to reveal his erect cock and exposed arse. He doubted he would ever be able to expunge this nightmarish vision.

Once again, the handkerchief, damp with potion, was clasped to his protesting face, and he spluttered as, for a third time, he felt Raymond’s hot breath on his nude arse cheeks. He was only vaguely aware of Alexander issuing kinky instructions in a voice laden with amusement and mockery. He was his asshole and his hole was everything as the pressure of the humiliating invasion began again. His so-called loyal servant coerced to degrade him! It was all too much to bear! If only the sensation were not driving him wild with lust! Damn that potion to hell!

His sphincter, stretched twice already, began to give way once more. And the Prince let out a shuddering gasp as another fat marshmallow began to squeeze its unwelcome way inside him. The spongey sweet compressed itself on its way in, and then once the tip of Raymond’s tongue had done its evil duty and deposited the mallow inside Felix’s anus, the sticky, slimy candy expanded to fill the space within him.

The Prince’s hole closed once more around the newcomer, and Felix was becoming increasingly aware of the growing fullness in his rectum. Barely had he had time to contemplate this before he felt the now familiar sensation of his arse opening up yet again.

It was a violation of nature – his arse was supposed to be an exit – and yet in this topsy-turvy world, it had become a doorway for these traitorous invaders. He had little time to ponder the obscenity, as, inevitably, he felt another chocolate coated, cream packed pastry forced inside him. It was more difficult for Raymond this time: the four sweets were not small, and at first, Felix wondered whether this time his asslips would actually be able to close around the profiterole.

“Let me give you a hand,” came Alexander Courcey’s voice.

Felix couldn’t help looking up at the mirror on the ceiling to watch Alexander unceremoniously remove Raymond from his crouching position at his bum, and extend a long finger towards his vulnerable arse.

Felix shuddered, the blood pounding in his head, his cock pulsing in thin air, as Courcey pushed his finger into the royal arse, forcing the chocolatey pudding inside, and as a consequence, the queue of other invaders deeper still.

“Mmm, it’s getting full in there now, boy,” he mused, swirling his finger around inside the Prince’s cavity. “Oooh that’s nasty! The mallows are melting and becoming quite gooey with the heat of your stud body. And the thin pastry cases are disintegrating too! Oops! There goes one now, flooding your insides with that ice cold cream.”

He pulled his finger out and looked with disdain at the chocolate and cream that now covered the end of it. He moved round to the head of the bed, and without any further ado, stuck it inside the Prince’s mouth and wiped it on his tongue.

Felix gagged with the knowledge of where that finger had come from. And, senses numbed from the witch’s potion, he was too shocked to do what he would have loved to more than anything else – to bite down on that hated finger! But Alexander was too quick for him, and before any harm could come to him, he had snatched his finger away again.

“All that sugar, cream and gelatine inside you will be irritating your arse lining like Hell, my slutty Prince! You’ll soon find that you will want to crap it out. The urge will be mightily powerful, and all-consuming. You’ll beg me to let you use the latrine. And maybe I will… But maybe I won’t. And if I don’t, you’ll just have to work those ass muscles of yours and squeeze your hole tightly shut with all your might. Because the alternative would be devastatingly humiliating, wouldn’t it, your Highness? Losing control of your bowels and shitting out a gooey mixture of marshmallow, chocolate and cream. Like a sissy little baby. But I feel confident you can take some more first, don’t you? In fact, here comes another...”

It took even more effort for Raymond to get this fluffy mallow inside the Prince’s increasingly crowded arse, so Alexander decided to apply some additional pressure.

“Come on now, lad,” grunted the Steward. “You can do it.” And he began to fuck Raymond’s arse vigorously with the wooden dildo.

Raymond wanted to squeal in pain at the violent force of being raped by the truncheon. The varnished pole felt massive as it ploughed in and out of his behind. Redoubling his efforts, he successfully pushed the marshmallow into Felix’s protesting anus.

The Prince emitted a guttural cry, and Alexander reflected to himself, with some amusement, that he felt like the driver of a particularly kinky engine – applying motivation at one end via the big wooden pole, carrying through the lithe body of young Raymond, and causing agony and ecstasy to Prince Felix at the other end.

With a loud, squelchy “pop!” Alexander pulled the wooden dildo completely out of Raymond’s arsehole, and carelessly pushed the exhausted youth to one side. He grabbed three more profiteroles and three more mallows from the sideboard and came closer to inspect the Prince’s exposed and vulnerable hole.

“What a dirty little boy you are, Prince Felix,” he sniffed. “You have cream and chocolate smeared all over your beautiful little bottom!”

“Go fuck yourself, Courcey!” snapped the Prince as the haze of the potion faded once more.

“Now that’s not a very respectful way to speak to your Lord and Master now, is it?” replied Alexander. “You use that tone with me, and I may choose not to be so delicate with the way I handle you!”

True to his word, Alexander prised apart the lips of Felix’s poor suffering arsehole and crammed first one, then another and then a third marshmallow into that desperately full opening.

“Ahhhhhh!” shrieked the Prince as his body was invaded yet again. The urge to expel the contents of his rectum was now overpowering, but he was determined not to lose control and foul himself.

“I’m sure a big boy like you can take just a few more,” crowed Alexander. “These last profiteroles are eager to join their companions! Although maybe we need to rearrange things inside your butt to make room for them.”

Without warning, he had two fingers inside the Prince’s hot rectum, pushing and probing at the squidgy, melting mess. Felix gasped at the invasion, but Alexander was relentless, forcing the sugary mass up, up, up, higher into the Prince’s protesting chute. Felix felt a cramp in his stomach as he was hit by the desperate need to empty his bowels. But it was hopeless. Alexander’s fingers blocked the exit, leaving the disintegrating, sugary gunge to torment him further. Felix squirmed in his bondage, pulling at the ropes, but it was hopeless – there was no escape.

With his free hand, Alexander massaged his hard cock through the tight purple fabric of his hose. “You make a most arousing sight, my pretty young princeling, wriggling in your fine crimson tights with my two fingers up your royal asshole, compacting all that gunk together. How warm and sweet your arse feels to the touch, my slutty bitch boy. I feel such sorrow at having to remove my fingers from inside you, but alas I must. For we must finish the bowl of treats...”

“No! Please!” the Prince positively squealed in terror. “I’m full! Full to the brim! There’s no more room!”

“Ah, now that’s not true - as you well know. Don’t be such a pessimist,my lad! Your hole has already proved talented beyond my expectations. And when I withdraw my fingers, we will surely need to fill that space they occupied, won’t we? Mmm, there we go, out they come...”

Alexander grimaced with distaste at the creamy gunge on his finger tips and held them out for Raymond, who was loitering, hands cuffed, in the corner.

“Here, slave, lick my fingers clean,” he told him peremptorily, and, without waiting for a reply, stuck them in his mouth.

Raymond pulled a face but he did as he was told. He tasted the warm, sweet chocolatey cream, mingled with hot royal ass juices.

“Swallow it,” said Alexander casually, not even looking at the dark-haired youth, although he listened with satisfaction to the sound of his gagging and gulping.

“Now for these three final tasty morsels! Let’s see just how hungry that ass of yours is, your Highness! Let us try two at once!”

Alexander positioned two chocolate pastries against the smooth orifice, just as a spasm hit the Prince’s belly.

“Arrrggh!!” cried the Prince, as the puckered ring, beyond the limits of his control, began to quiver and open. Alexander saw a hint of slimy white marshmallow within struggling to escape from its warm prison. And a trickle of cream slipped out of the Prince’s ass and ran down onto the bed.

“No you don’t, you naughty little bitch!” cried Alexander. “You’ll keep your cargo inside you until I give you permission to expel it!”

And, with that, he rammed both profiteroles into the protesting circle, pushing the would-be escapee back inside the tunnel. The Prince cried out in shock, but Alexander was merciless. He had one final treat to deposit inside the young man, and he had no intention of being thwarted. So it was that the six giant marshmallows and four profiteroles inside the royal bum were joined by one final chocolate-coated pastry puff. Only, on this occasion, the Prince’s ass did indeed seem to be stuffed full, and, although Alexander pushed hard, the dark brown ball would only enter halfway, where it remained obstinately: the Prince’s asslips stretched wide around it – the profiterole neither in nor out!

“Ooh, the pressure must be building now, slut boy, hey? The desire to push that nasty larder of sweeties out of your straining gut. You can gnash your teeth all you like but you mustn’t waste a drop of energy or concentration – focus on keeping that arse of yours under control. You don’t want the ultimate humiliation of shitting yourself and letting all that gunge out of your hole now, do you? Now, breathe deep of the potion – and get ready!”

And with that, something seemed to give way and Alexander successfully forced the final recalcitrant profiterole between the Prince’s aching arse lips.

The hole closed slowly and reluctantly as the young man’s agonised scream echoed around the castle walls...