Chapter 56 - Raymond gains his Freedom

Just as the sophisticated Steward of de Montford Castle had been playing on Will’s mind, the former junior page boy may well have been surprised that he was likewise very much in Master Alexander’s thoughts.


He sat alone in his chambers, his brow furrowed, his elegant elbow resting on the table. The whirlwind of recent events seemed to have abated somewhat. Lord Geoffrey was ensconced with his fellow noblemen, in deep discussion over how to ensure stability in the land. It was true that the King and his beautiful son were not popular, but the last thing this impoverished, exhausted country needed was to descend into civil war.


They would have to decide what to do about Felix. He was at their mercy now of course, but whilst he lived, he was dangerous and a potential focus for rebellion. The question was: did any of them actually have the nerve to kill him? And if they did, would that inspire a rush of sympathy for the monarchy and end in uprising and rebellion? Moreover, the Prince had powerful relatives abroad - not least the Spanish royal family. Would they move to try and liberate him?


Alexander was relieved that such matters would not be decided by him; and with the luxury for once of a little time to attend to his own affairs, he had decided to devote his energies to the pretty blond slut boy who had risked his life to save him.


There was a sharp rap on the door.


“Enter!”


A guard nodded smartly to the Steward, and pushed his prisoner into the room.


“That will be all,” said Alexander. “You may leave us.”


The guard did so, closing the door firmly behind him.


“Well, young Master Raymond,” he began. “How goes your new life in the dungeon?”


Raymond raised his head, his dark curls falling into his almond-shaped eyes and looked at Alexander warily. “I’ve had more comfortable beds.”


Alexander’s eyes flickered to the door of his bedchamber, where only a month ago Raymond himself had been installed.


“I’m sure,” he smiled coldly. “And the Prince?”


He looked back at the bare-chested youth, clad only in his once pristine silver tights, now stained and torn from his time in the dungeon.


“They keep us apart now. I hear him raving and roaring sometimes. It was a particularly cruel decision to leave him in those soiled scarlet tights when you returned him to his cell.”


“Well I didn’t want him to forget his experience too quickly.”


“He may well go mad, you know. It wouldn’t surprise me.”


“That would certainly make life simpler - for all of us.”


Raymond bit his lower lip. He seemed to come to a decision. “And what of me?” he asked, plaintively. “What is to become of me?”


“All in good time, my impatient young buck. Come, take a seat, why don’t you?”


Alexander grasped Raymond’s manacled wrist and propelled him to the cushioned chair.


“Why don’t you kill me now and get it over with?” said the wretched youth. “We both know you’re going to do it eventually.”


“Kill you?” responded Alexander in mock-astonishment. “Why on earth would I do that? That firm piece of boy rump is far too good to waste by killing you! How is it by the way? Comfortable? I do hope so. That cushion was recently stained by a small mishap with some bananas, and they’re a devil to get out of the fabric. I do hope it’s not too damp against your hosed little bum.”


Raymond winced at the memory of how he had exacted his revenge on his former master. “I am at your mercy, Sir,” he said.


Alexander nodded sagely. “Indeed. If you recall, on that occasion, not so long ago, I asked you a question. You chose not to answer me. Perhaps you might reconsider now. I ask again: what did you do with Will?”


Raymond felt a sharp pang of contempt. Still the obsession with that moronic slut! He suppressed the thought and assumed his meekest expression. “If I help you find him, my Lord, will you be lenient with me?”


“Ha! You have some nerve, boy, I’ll grant you that! You’re hardly in a position to bargain with me.”


Alexander seemed to think. He appeared to have reached a decision.


“Very well. I admire your audacity and I accept your proposition. If you tell me where I can find the boy, I will let you leave the palace this very day - alive and well.”


A wild hope leaped in Raymond’s heart. “Do you really mean it, Sir?”


“I swear on both my life and the life of young Will,” came the solemn reply.


“You are the best of men, Master Alexander! The best of men!”


“Then tell me what I want to know.”


“I sent him back to his village. He’s back in the care of his family. His own brother took him in.”


Alexander could not help but laugh. “I had no idea that you would display so little imagination, Raymond! Your worst enemy was at your mercy and you simply - sent him home?”


Raymond shrank a little in the face of Alexander’s scorn. “Will you keep your promise, my Lord?” he whispered.


“I am a man of my word, young Raymond. Surely you know that by now!” Alexander’s walked to the door. He opened it with a flourish. “You will leave the castle today. I have even gone to the trouble of arranging a personal escort for you!”


Raymond turned his head to the doorway and gasped at the man framed there. The newcomer had a mouth stuffed with golden teeth and a black leather patch covering where one of his eyes used to be. The disreputable fellow shook Alexander warmly by the hand.


“My friend! It has been too, too long. You have not frequented the auction for many a month!”


“No, Gregory,” said Alexander, wrily raising his eyebrow. “I’ve had other rather more pressing matters to deal with.”


“So I’ve heard. But it is good to see you back in your rightful place at last.” He grinned expansively. “Now, I know you well enough to know that you didn’t invite me here for my conversation. I understand you want to discuss business. Are you in the market for a new slave boy to entertain his Lordship after his travails in foreign lands?”


Alexander shook his head. “Not this time. In fact, on this occasion I’m selling, not buying.”


“Are you now?” Gregory asked with interest. “And am I to assume that this unfortunate fellow here is the commodity you’re prepared to part with?”


Raymond’s face went deathly white. “No, no. You wouldn’t! You said - You promised!”


“I promised you would leave the castle today and that you would leave it alive - no more, no less. Now be quiet while Gregory and I discuss business.” Alexander turned to the slave-trader. “I want him shipped somewhere far, far away.”


Gregory tapped the side of his nose confidentially. “I have just the place in mind. The sodomites there go crazy for pale skin there – and the younger and prettier the better!”


“Superb. Do you think he will fetch a decent price?”


Gregory approached the bound young man and began to appraise him in a professional manner. He grabbed a clump of Raymond’s dark, curly locks and yanked his head back roughly. “Good head of hair on him. Pretty little nose.” He continued his monologue as he ran his swarthy hand down Raymond’s bare chest and squeezed his groin through his tights. “Nice body. Are his parts all in working order?”


“As far as I’m aware. Is that a problem?”


“Not necessarily. Some clients prefer male slaves gelded, that’s all – makes ‘em more docile. But the procedure is straightforward, and I can whip ‘em off myself at a moment’s notice. Probably better to leave ‘em where they are for now.”


Raymond emitted an anguished gurgle as his genitals were discussed in this callous fashion.


“Is he a virgin?” asked Gregory.


Alexander laughed bleakly. “No, my friend. This one’s arse has had more than its fair share of use.”


“Pity. Virgins attract a premium. Still, there are those who like their boys experienced in the ways of the flesh – indeed, in some cases, the sluttier they are, the more they’ll pay.”


“You wouldn’t dare,” hissed Raymond malevolently. “You wouldn’t dare!”
The two men pointedly ignored him.


“Any signs of syphilis?” continued the slave-trader.


“None that I’m aware of.”


“Good. If you’ll sign a certificate attesting to that fact he’ll fetch a penny or two more. Although if he doesn’t have the clap now, give him a month or two in some of the dives I travel to and there’ll be no disease under the sun he won’t have picked up!”


“You dog!” spat Raymond. “My father was a squire to King Edward!”


“Is he always this noisy?” asked Gregory, taking the opportunity to insert his fingers between the lad’s jaws and make a cursory examination of his teeth.


“Maybe you should cut his tongue off, along with his balls,” suggested Alexander nonchalantly.


“Mouth healthy. Teeth all present and correct.”


In a desperate rage, Raymond snapped at Gregory’s fingers, but the trader was too quick for him and the lad found himself biting at the empty air.


“A little too much spirit for my liking, Alexander,” said Gregory sadly. “I’ll need to muzzle him. It doesn’t look good but I can’t risk my customers losing one of their extremities.”


Alexander spread his hands sympathetically. “You must do what you must do,” he murmured.


Gregory dipped his hand into his bag of provisions and produced a rotting leather gag. Alexander curled his lip. It smelt foul, and over the years it had clearly been employed to silence and subdue countless numbers of disobedient slaves.


“Get that thing away from me!” screamed Raymond, but Gregory calmly slipped the leather ball between Raymond’s lips and fastened it firmly at the base of his skull. Alexander noted with interest that the ball was hollowed out and that he could see straight through the centre into the inside of the youth’s mouth.


“What a relief,” sighed Alexander as the obstruction muted the young man’s fevered protests, leaving him able only to make the occasional muffled grunt. “I should have done that myself long ago!”


“Now, what else is there to discuss?” pondered the one-eyed man. “Ah yes. Transportation. If I’m to understand correctly, you were interested in the most basic haulage options.”


“That’s correct.”


“Small, medium or large?”


“Hmmm…”


“Small is cheapest.”


“Then small it is!”


With a satisfied nod of his head, Gregory excused himself and went to fetch something from the corridor outside. He returned a moment later, explaining, “I anticipated you feeling that way, so I brought a sample along with me for your approval.”


In his arms he carried a wooden packing crate. Alexander raised an eyebrow. It scarcely looked large enough to contain a medium sized dog, never mind a youth of Raymond’s dimensions. “Will he fit?” he asked uncertainly.


“Allow me to demonstrate, my friend.”


Gregory opened the lid of the crate, revealing a couple of inches of sawdust lining its bottom. Turning to the tied-up young man, Gregory hefted the desperate and struggling body into the box. He lay Raymond’s back down against the sawdust, and then, grabbing each of Raymond’s hose-covered ankles, bent the lad’s legs at the knee and, pressing the thighs against the youth’s naked chest, effectively folded the boy in half. Peering into the musty packaging, Alexander watched with interest as Gregory manacled Raymond’s heels to the crate, so they remained fixed in place, pushing against his nylon-clad arse.


Raymond’s eyes were wide with terror. This position would become very uncomfortable very rapidly, and he was fairly confident there would be no opportunity to work out any attacks of cramp that he might suffer whilst he was thus restrained.


As he continued to observe, Alexander noticed a circular hole, around four inches in diameter, low down in one side of the crate, the side to which Raymond’s feet had just been shackled, and coincidentally, in near proximity to the boy’s arsehole.


“And this hole is for…?” he inquired innocently.


“As if you didn’t know, you rogue” grinned Gregory. “It’s a long sea voyage and you know what sailors are like. My lads need some outlet for their sexual frustration. I block it up if it’s a virgin I’m carrying, but if it’s not, it doesn’t do any harm if they want a quick fuck. Do you object?”


“Not at all. In fact I’m tempted to administer a farewell buggering to the tricky little bitch myself.” Alexander’s finger poked at the glory hole. “Allow me to facilitate matters for your hard-working employees.” And, locating the seam of Raymond’s tights, he tore a hole and prodded his long forefinger into the youth’s sweating, vulnerable and not so willing crevice.


Gregory lifted the lid of the crate and handed it to Alexander for further examination. “You’ll notice that a slate blackboard has been fixed to the top,” he pointed out to the Steward. “That’s so that each sailor who sticks his cock in the box can scrawl his name and give the experience a score out of ten. It’s just a bit of fun but it helps to pass the long hours at sea.”


Alexander nodded his head in approval. A thought occurred to him. “How is he fed and watered?”


“Ah,” said Gregory, proudly. “An ingenious invention of my own devising. You see that there’s another small hole bored here in the lid of the crate? This enables a wooden cylinder to be introduced and pushed directly into the slave’s mouth. If needs be, and as in this particular case, through the hole in the middle of the gag.”


“And what do you feed them?” asked Alexander.


Gregory grimaced. “You really don’t want to know.”


“Fair enough. How about fluids? How do you make sure they don’t become dehydrated during the voyage?”


“Well, as you can imagine, fresh water is a precious commodity at sea, so I tend to save that for my crew. In my experience, a few months swallowing sailor’s piss never killed anyone.”


Alexander chortled heartily, and slapped the slave trader on his back. “You think of everything my friend! What about the boy’s own excretions? He’ll need to piss and crap too of course. Do you let him out for those necessities?”


Gregory shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s what the sawdust is there for. Besides, it’s easier to clean ‘em up when we land than risk ‘em trying to jump overboard and drown ‘emselves on the journey.”


“Practical to the last!”


“And speaking of being practical,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “A little bird tells me that the dashing Prince Felix has had a sudden and rather unexpected change of fortune. Should you be in the market and looking for someone to take that particular jewel off your hands, I would be more than happy to oblige.”


“It’s tempting,” murmured Alexander. “It’s certainly tempting.”


“The body of a god, royal blood and reputedly a virgin into the bargain! Why, you and I could retire straight away on what that treasure would fetch from the rich merchants of Arabia!”


“Unfortunately, my worthy Gregory, the Prince is not for sale. Lord Geoffrey is not going to risk allowing that particular beauty out of his sight. He certainly has no intention of packing him off to another country, where there might be a danger of him raising an army against the good folks of England.”


“I understand the reservations of his Lordship,” said Gregory sorrowfully, “but I can’t help feeling it’s a damned shame.”


“Whereas this one,” said Alexander, turning his attentions to the concertina’d lad inside the crate, “well, I can guarantee you we’ll all be very happy to see him transported from these shores, never to be seen again.”


Raymond’s eyes bulged, and once again he attempted to curse them both – which merely resulted in yet another muffled moan.


“What will be his fate?” asked Alexander. “What will the rich Arabian who wins him at auction do with him?”


Gregory considered the question, drawing on his many years of experience in the trade. “Given his youth and looks, odds are he’s destined to be a sex slave. The men out East are barbarians when it comes to boys. They’ll do things to a male that they’d never dream of subjecting their wives to. I wouldn’t put money on his arsehole still being in one piece six months from now. I tell you, your eyes would pop out of your head if I told you some of the things those heathens have been known to shove up boys’ backsides. You name it, they’ll have tried to use it to fuck a lad. What’s wrong with sticking a cock up there, I ask you? Why on earth do people need to get any more exotic than that?”


“Why indeed?” concurred Alexander, concealing a sly smile.


“Anyway, they have a short shelf life out there, male whores. Once they’ve ruined his arse, well, after that, if he’s lucky, he may have a couple of years doing hard labour; if not...” Gregory slowly drew his finger across his throat. Suddenly, a look of consternation crossed his face. “All this I’m telling you, it doesn’t make a difference to you, does it? You still want to go through with the transaction?”


The one-eyed man intruded on Alexander’s train of thought. “What did you say? Do I still want to go through with it? Oh yes. Most definitely. I was just musing over how things might have turned out differently under other circumstances.” If it hadn’t been for the blond lad with the perfect bubble butt, he thought to himself.


Alexander peered into the cramped packing case and took one long, final look at the anguished face of Raymond StClare. “Now, why don’t you seal him up and be on your way?” he said abruptly. “I’ll wait to hear from you to find out how much he fetched.”






Business concluded, Gregory was left alone with the crate to pack away his tools of the trade. He nailed the lid shut, enclosing Raymond in darkness, muffled screams now reduced to wracking sobs.


He could really do with a piss, thought the one-eyed rogue, only he hadn’t thought to ask Alexander where the garderobe was located. He glanced around and shrugged. He reached into his bag and pulled out a curved wooden tube. Feeding it through the hole in the crate’s lid, he then proceeded to wiggle it into position. He slid it through the gap in the middle of the ball gag, and left it resting at the top of Raymond’s gullet. He pulled down the front of his coarse grey tights, stuck his cock into the end of the cylinder and released his urine with a long, satisfied sigh.


He heard the piss gurgling down the wooden tube and flowing into Raymond’s helpless throat. “That’s it, lad. Drink it all up. Every last drop. It’s only the first of such refreshments you’ll be tasting over the months to come.”


Gregory shook the final few droplets from his dick, and put it away. Then, whistling tunelessly to himself, he hefted the crate onto his broad shoulders and carried Raymond down to the cart waiting below.


The bumpy journey to Dunchester took an hour or so. The crate was stored there over night and then, the following day, it was on its way down to the port. Less than a week after preparing himself to become the right-hand man of the new King of England, Raymond StClare was on the ocean, destined never to return to his homeland again.

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...

Chapter 52 - A Right Royal Rimming

Alexander rested one finger, with the lightest of touches, on the very spot between the crimson hose-clad cheeks where nestled the Prince’s rosebud hole.

“Ah, there we have it, all virginal and unaware, snug and safe within your tights.”

Felix flinched as Alexander gently prodded at his puckered opening.

“No – no man has ever dared to invade me in that obscene way!” he declared.

“Well quite frankly, your Highness, it’s about time they did! You’ve been Pretty Prince Prick-tease for far too long!”

Felix squirmed desperately in his attempt to evade Alexander’s probing finger, but he was tied up so securely, every one of his efforts was in vain. The knowledge that his arsehole, protected only by that thin layer of silken fabric, was entirely at the Steward’s mercy was utterly mortifying. And soon, as predictable as sunrise, even that thin veneer of modesty would be ripped from him.

“Raise your hips a little, young man, so I can more easily roll your hose down. We wouldn’t want to tear these fine tights of yours now, would we?” Alexander made no attempt to disguise his glee. “I said to raise your hips! Raymond – I think his Highness requires another blast of the potion. That will loosen him up and make him more amenable to my intentions. Do it, slave boy! Use the handkerchief!”

Raymond scuttled over to the head of the bed, and plucked up the potion laced napkin.

“Noo!” cried the Prince in sudden desperation, but his plea was muffled by Raymond’s hand covering his mouth.

Felix tried to kick his legs in protest, as once again that familiar odour overwhelmed him. He felt the clinging material of his tights being seductively rolled past his hips and the awful humiliation of his rock-hard penis being revealed as the hosiery was slipped down.

“Mmmm,” murmured Alexander, “what a pretty pecker you have. It’s not massive by any means – but, as with all your physical parts, it’s very beautifully proportioned. How does it feel to have it exposed like this for the first time?”

He reached out a hand and cupped the Prince’s bollocks. Felix flinched instinctively at the touch.

“Don’t worry, slave Prince. I’m not going to squeeze them – yet. Just wanted to have a feel of these naked, golden balls. Very nice. And your cock is standing to attention like a well-drilled soldier. Let’s make sure it stays that way, shall we? It gives me great satisfaction, you know, that you are turned on by this humiliation.”

Felix was too woozy to reply – the potion sapping all the energy from him.

“Let me decorate your cock in the same way I have adorned your neck,” Alexander continued, as he produced another strip of leather, also glittering with red rubies – identical in every way to the slave collar save for its size. He wrapped the cockring around the Prince’s genitals with practiced ease, and pulled tight on the strap so that the engorged penis remained rock hard and bulging.

“How pretty you look, boy. But then you can see that for yourself. Raymond, take a step back, and allow his Highness to admire himself in the looking-glass!”

Through dazed and blood-shot eyes, the Prince stared up at the ceiling – to see his cock sprouting proud and vibrant from his groin, with the new glittering jewellery at its base. Once again, he was struck by what an erotic sight he made – tied, spread eagled, his legs raised in the air, with the waistband of his tights lowered now to exposed his cock and balls.

“Now for the true prize!” whispered Alexander, and, as he had done to so many unwilling male victims in the past, he pulled the waistband of the Prince’s tights down over his buttocks, to reveal that smooth crack, within which lay the most secret and private of crevices: the Prince’s asshole.

Thanks to the cunningly angled mirrors, Felix could not avoid watching. It was something akin to an out of body experience, but one which Felix was only too aware was happening to himself. The degradation was even more piquant as Alexander nonchalantly began gently to push at the Prince’s now naked hole with the tip of his finger. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Indeed, Felix’s cock jerked energetically as Alexander continued to press against that oh so sensitive flesh. He went on, applying more and more pressure, and Felix winced, knowing it would only be a matter of time before his defences were broached, and the tender muscle of his sphincter would yield to the unyielding penetration of the older man’s finger. His brain told him over and over how much he hated it, but his damn cock, aided and abetted by the infernal potion, strained – rock-hard – with lust.

“That feel good, my young Princeling?” cooed Alexander. “Your hot body is writhing about – looks very sexy you know, your tights pulled down just far enough for me to get access – but still making your legs look so damned perfect. That beautiful cock all nude and bobbing in the air, and your arse – peachy and inviting – just waiting. But I think you may be surprised by what will be the first thing I decide to push inside it.”

Felix felt Alexander’s hands running up and down his legs, stroking his thighs and calves through the lustrous satin tights, and clearly enjoying the sensation of hard muscle encased in the tightest of garments. The Prince tried to raise his head as Alexander disappeared from view, and then – his head still spinning with lust – he emitted an involuntary gasp as he felt the strangest of sensations at his arsehole: a darting, flickering, slimy protrusion. With a shudder of revulsion, he realised it was Alexander’s tongue licking and lapping at his asshole. So Master Courcey had determined to possess him by eating his arse, had he?

“Mmmm, you taste good, my Prince. I’ll go slowly with you as it’s your first time. Can you feel that? Oh I can see from your face that you can. And you’re enjoying it aren’t you? My tongue slipping into your hole!”

The Prince was not sufficiently in charge of his senses to speak, but the deepest darkest truth was he could not deny it to himself. As humiliating as it felt to be used and possessed by Alexander in this way, the sensation of having his arse licked and teased was quite incredible and possibly the most erotic thing he had ever experienced.

“It’s about to get a whole lot better!” promised the Steward, as he reached into a glass bowl at his side, and carefully placed a small peppermint on the end of his tongue. Then he came to kneel between the Prince’s spread eagled legs and positioned his tongue at the royal crevice. Finally, with the most gentle yet insistent amount of pressure he began to push his tongue, the mint balancing gently at the top, into Felix’s exposed anus.

“Oh – oh – oh,” gasped the Prince, as he felt the small pebble-like sweet enter him, followed immediately by Alexander’s adept and probing tongue.

Slowly but surely he felt the sweet travel deeper inside his anus, and then the tongue began to withdraw, depositing the mint inside him. Felix shuddered as Alexander lapped at his arsehole, sliding his tongue over the fleshy opening, darting in and out, and opening him wider.

“I could spend all day eating out your sweet arse, boy,” murmured the Steward as he went back to slobbering at the Prince’s hole. Felix squirmed – caught in the devastating humiliation of his enemy having the power to excite and arouse him in this most intimate of ways.

Alexander clutched the Prince’s naked butt cheeks, and with a deep sigh of satisfaction pulled them apart as far as he could, allowing even greater opportunity to penetrate that peachy bum. He pointed his tongue and dove in, pushing insistently as far as it would go up the royal chute: Felix gasping with longing and desire as he was teased and tormented by that talented, pulsing flap of muscle.

Alexander’s voice rang out, mocking him anew: “You’re enjoying it in spite of yourself, aren’t you, lad? How you wish you weren’t! But you can’t deny you are in a frenzy of lust from being fucked by my tongue. Well, never you fear. This tight little hole of yours is going to see a great deal of action before today is over…”

He might have gone on, but at that moment, an unexpected knock came at the door to Alexander’s chambers. Raymond looked at the Steward: would he be irritated by the interruption? Far from it, in fact, as it appeared Alexander had been expecting the visitor.

“Aha! Right on cue!” he declared. “Raymond – go and answer the door, will you?”

The curly-haired lad’s eyes strayed to his discarded doublet.

“No need for that. Just do as you’re told.”

As he left the bedchamber and crossed through the main apartment, Raymond pondered what would be Alexander’s next scheme to use and abuse Prince Felix, and whether he might once again be permitted to take a role in the debauchery.

He opened the oak door. Sir Dominic – standing guard outside – smirked at the sight of Raymond, bare-chested and clad only in his fine silver tights.

“The Chief Steward’s order has arrived,” said the knight, and, stepping to one side, he revealed, dressed in his bright pageboy livery, fat little Humphrey.

Humphrey was holding a massive tray, upon which sat two silver bowls. Each of the bowls was covered with a lid, so Raymond was not able to see what they contained.

“What do you want, Humphrey?” snapped Raymond.

“You’re not to talk to me like that, Raymond. You’re a prisoner of Lord Geoffrey now. You can stop lording it over me.”

“Why you cheeky little bastard!”

“Mistress Olwen says you’re going to get your comeuppance, Raymond. She says Master Alexander is going to punish you good and proper!”

Raymond raised his hand to strike the tubby little bitch, but Sir Dominic intervened. “I imagine the Steward is impatient for his delivery, Humphrey. We wouldn’t want to keep him waiting now, would we?”

Raymond directed Humphrey into the bedchamber, and the fat page’s jaw dropped at the sight within. There – lying on his back on the bed – was his Serene Highness Prince Felix of England, bare-chested, muscular arms tied, bejeweled slave collar at his throat, his red tights rolled down to below his buttocks, his legs and splayed in the air, a sparkling cock ring at the base of his erect and nude penis, and his arsehole on display.

Alexander was amused by the shock on Humphrey’s face. “Well, well, your Highness. Perhaps we should invite the entire staff of the castle in here so they can all gawp at your humiliating predicament! I’m sure they would all find it most entertaining!”

Alexander swatted at Humphrey’s ample bottom, bulging in its mustard-coloured hose. “Put the tray down, fatty, and be off with you. You’ve seen quite enough for now. Unless you want to participate in the entertainment, that is…”

Raymond had never seen the tubby little pageboy move so fast. The oak door clanged shut behind him.

There had been time for the Prince to recover his wits somewhat. “What foul perversion do you have for me now?” he demanded. “Or has even your depraved mind reached the end of its imagination?”

A wicked grin played around Alexander’s lips as he stepped forward, licked his forefinger and slowly slid it into the Prince’s glistening arse slit. The Prince gasped at the new invasion. “Never, your Highness. I can assure you that my imagination is a positively bottomless pit of kinky fantasies: a well that I’m proud to say has never yet run dry…”

He wiggled his long finger inside Felix’s back passage. “Oh, my little slave slut’s hole is all empty. That seems to me a great pity. And something we should remedy without delay, don’t you agree, young Raymond?”

The Prince struggled in sheer frustration, but naturally it all came to naught. He was quite securely bound, arms and legs dangling impotently in the air, and no amount of wrestling against his ties would change that. He tried to withdraw up the bed, anything to get away from Alexander’s impudent, poking finger, but he was immobile and his efforts served only to fuck himself on the Steward’s digit.

Suddenly, Alexander withdrew his finger, and, with a flourish, lifted the silver lid from the first of the large bowls. Raymond looked over with intense curiosity to see what it contained. It was a pile of fat and juicy marshmallows – pristine, white, dusted with icing sugar and bigger than any marshmallow Raymond had ever seen. Each one was nearly three inches in diameter. Meanwhile, the Prince, tied to the bed, strained his neck to try and see.

“What?!” he demanded. “What is it?”

“Oh you’ll find out soon enough,” chuckled Alexander. “And what else, I wonder, has dear Mistress Olwen provided in our other tureen?”

The second lid was duly lifted.

“Profiteroles! How delicious! Each choux pastry ball filled with fresh cream and dipped in dark molten chocolate!”

The Steward turned to address Felix,” Feeling hungry, are we?”

It took only a couple of seconds for Alexander’s meaning to sink in.

“No!” cried the Prince. “No! No! No! You wouldn’t dare!”

“Dare what, slaveboy?” enquired Alexander, all innocence.

But it was as if Felix were finally struck dumb with indignant amazement.

“Pack your royal arse with these decadent sweetmeats? Take these plump marshmallows and profiteroles and push them slowly into your hole with my long, probing fingers?” He grinned wickedly. “I have indeed played such games before. Indeed Raymond has been the victim of such entertainment in the past. But the truth is I am easily bored. Why should I wish to repeat a game I have enjoyed already? So no, I shan’t be stuffing your bum with food, young man.”

Prince Felix allowed himself to relax a little, visibly relieved.

“I shall instead make Raymond do it…”

Both young men exclaimed “What?!” in unison.

“You may well look surprised, Raymond,” smiled Alexander. “What have you done to deserve such an erotic honour, you may wonder?”

The curly-haired youth bowed his head in his meekest manner. “I hope my Master has accepted my honest and heart-felt apology.”

Prince Felix made a scoffing sound of disgust at his servant’s volte-face.

“I will however, be guiding you as you stuff the royal ass,” Alexander informed them, as he nonchalantly wandered over to one of his closets. He opened the door and reached inside. “Using this…”

Raymond gulped as Alexander brandished a long wooden pole in his direction. It was varnished and smooth but there was no doubt in Raymond’s mind that Alexander would be putting it up his bum.

“Come here, young man,” whispered Alexander. “Pull down those fine silver tights and stick out your arse for me…”

Raymond gritted his teeth, but he knew he had no choice but to do as he was ordered. He slid his hose over his pale, rounded butt cheeks, and pushed them out just as he had been instructed to. He winced as he felt Alexander’s finger nudging at his hole. The Steward had greased his finger liberally, and Raymond breathed deeply as he realised he was being generously lubed up.

“Mmm, that cunt of yours is still tight, Raymond. Quite an achievement, really, after all your experience. Are you ready? This might hurt a little.”

Raymond couldn’t help tensing his sphincter in anticipation, and then felt the blunt, bulbous end of the wooden dildo pressing against his hole.

“Ready, boy? Now – in we go…”

“Ah-ah-ah!” gasped Raymond as the first couple of inches penetrated him.

Alexander placed a ringed palm on the lad’s shoulder, as if calming a skittish colt.

“Just breathe, lad, and enjoy that big wooden truncheon pushing inside you. It’s only just inside. Plenty more where that came from. Now, you can still walk with your tights pulled down, can’t you? You may have to squat a little as you move, but try it. Yes – yes that’s right. Not too fast though! We wouldn’t want the dildo slipping out of you, would we? How else am I to guide you along if not with this big wooden handle to steer you?”

“What – what do you want me to do?” stammered Raymond.

“We’re going to see how many marshmallows and profiteroles we can insert into Prince Felix’s peachy arsehole until he’s filled right up to the brim!”

Alexander pushed his wooden truncheon a little further into Raymond’s backside and directed him towards the sideboard where rested the silver bowls rested.

“I think we’ll start with a marshmallow,” he mused.

The lad reached out with a tentative hand to select the squishy sweet.

“Oh, no, no, no,” tutted Alexander. “A big marshmallow like that will never slip inside the royal arsehole dry. It needs to be wetted and moist to squeeze into the Prince’s passage. You’ll need to slick it up with your saliva. In fact, I see no reason why you should use your hands at all for this little task. You can do it all with your mouth…”

Chapter 49 - Examined by the Abbot

Will must have slept most of the rest of the day. He hadn’t realised quite how exhausted he was. Night after night, sleeping tied up in a bar had not been exactly conducive to good, wholesome rest. So the truckle bed in his tiny cell in the monastery now felt like the height of luxury.

Brother Ralf had told him that the novices and junior monks all slept in one dormitory, but that it would not be appropriate for Will to share their sleeping arrangements given that for now, he was merely a guest in their home. He still had not seen any sign of the other inhabitants, Ralf informing him that they were either studying or in private contemplation. He would meet his new living companions soon enough.

It was late afternoon when he overheard voices coming from the hallway outside his cell. Straightaway, he recognised the quietly mellifluous Brother Ralf: “It is good to have you back with us, Father. The monastery felt your absence keenly. May I take it that the Prince’s birthday celebrations were a success?”

A fruity guffaw burst forth from Brother Ralf’s companion. “You could say that. It certainly provided great entertainment for us. Although I fear the Prince may not have enjoyed himself as much as he expected to.”

“That is indeed a pity,” replied Brother Ralf sadly. “I will remember him in my prayers tonight.”

Will pushed open the door of his cell a tiny crack – just enough to enable him to peer out, hopefully unobserved. The man who had apparently attended the Prince’s party was of medium height, and looked to be around sixty years old. He had a ruddy complexion, a bulbous nose – and he was enormously fat. His clerical robes were more ornate than Brother Ralf’s and were trimmed with lace and crimson. Wiry grey hairs sprouted from his nose and ears: indeed from almost everywhere other than the top of his head.

Suddenly, his rheumy black eyes turned to look precisely where Will was lurking. “Well, well, who is this eavesdropping on our conversation?” he chuckled to himself.

Abashed, Will opened the door of the cell and stepped out into the corridor. Brother Ralf smiled serenely. “He is called Will,” he said. “And I have offered him shelter and sanctuary in his time of need.”

The fat man nodded, apparently satisfied with this explanation.

“Will,” continued Brother Ralf, “this is Our Holy Father, Abbot Cuthbert.”

Not sure of the proper etiquette, Will bowed deeply.

The Abbot smiled broadly. “Welcome, Will, to our humble abode. I trust and hope that you will find succour and peace in the arms of the Lord.”

The next few days passed quietly for young Will. Brother Ralf was compassionate and companionable, and most gratifyingly for Will, he did not ask questions about Will’s past, but accepted that if Will did feel the need to talk about something he would. Will gladly helped out weeding and harvesting vegetables from the allotment and was grateful for the honest physical exercise that doing so afforded, after his weeks of restricted movement, tethered in Lunk’s barn.

Brother Ralf introduced him briefly to the other monks and novices, but Will soon realised that they were being trained in solitude and silent contemplation, so there would be little or no chance for him to get to know any of them properly. If he were completely honest with himself, that was something of a pity. One or two of the older novices: tall, broad-backed, clear-eyed and handsome caused a definite spasm from his caged cock whenever they passed by the monastery gardens. In spite of himself, he found he was imagining them stripped of their unflattering and all-concealing brown habits, and dressed in the peacock-like finery of the castle page boys.

As Will turned the soil in the garden, he daydreamed of one particular young man, whose dark locks fell in waves to his shoulders. His upper body was lithe and well-muscled, and Will could only presume that his lower half would be equally well-proportioned. He checked himself at once. How had it happened that he no longer ever fantasised about young women like the full-breasted Jane StClare? Only of masculine young men with muscular thighs and pert bubble butts...

Then again, what else could he expect? After all, he had been surrounded almost exclusively by men for the best part of the past year! Mistress Olwen and his hated sister-in-law Lizzie had been the only females he had had any contact with. So, combined with the period of prolonged sexual chastity that he had been forced to endure, was it any wonder his libido was out of kilter? That was a reassuring thought, at least. Once he had recovered his strength, and the danger of being pursued by Lunk’s evil gang had passed, he would move on, and live a normal life...

His reverie was broken by a coarse cry from beyond the monastery wall.

“Why there you are, you little shite!”

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Before he could catch his breath, a tall, leather-clad man, swift as a shadow, had vaulted over the low wall and was sprinting towards him. Will could only gawp in astonishment. It was Ebony the thief.

Will had no intention of being captured yet again, so he picked up his hoe from the ground and made ready to use it to defend himself. However, he had no chance to strike a blow against the trespasser. From out of nowhere, Brother Ralf appeared and stepped in front of him.

“No,” said Brother Ralf, calmly but firmly. “This is God’s land. You have no right to be here.”

Ebony seemed to hesitate in the face of the implacable monk. Then he recovered himself and grinned crookedly. “I mean you no harm, Father. But this urchin belongs to me.”

Brother Ralf shook his head. “He has been granted sanctuary here, and here he will stay for as long as he chooses.”

“Is that so?” wheedled the robber. “I have a gang of a dozen strong men not two hundred yards from here. One call to them and I can take him by force, whatever you say.”

“You take him over my dead body, my son. Would you risk the blood of a clergyman tainting your everlasting soul?”

Will watched as the cocky smile faded from Ebony’s face. Clearly even an irreligious scoundrel like him had some limits. He reached his decision. “Alright, you can keep him. But this creature has stolen from me. A fur, a bag of coins, a dagger – and some boots that belong to one of our number. Am I to be robbed of those as well?”

This time it was the monk’s turn to smile, and he did so serenley. “No, my son. We have no desire to keep anything that is rightfully yours. Follow me into the monastery and I will gladly give you the material objects you so desire. But I do so on the understanding that you cease to lay any claim to this youth.”

Will observed, fascinated, as greed and lust tussled in Ebony’s mind. But ultimately, there was no question about which would triumph.

“Alright,” he conceded. “We won’t trouble you again, Father. And you have some balls, I’ll grant you that.”

Brother Ralf nodded, as dignified as ever, and keeping a watchful eye on the rogue, led Ebony inside to retrieve his hoard of treasures.

As the thief passed Will, he whispered in his ear, “Too bad, bitch boy. You should have come with me. We’d have had some fun, you know. And I might even have taken that pesky little cock cage off your dick. Looks like you’re gonna be stuck with it now...”

Will was relieved that he was not pressurised to participate in the religious rituals of the monastery. His faith had never been very strong to begin with, and his recent experiences made it very hard to believe that any kind of divine force was caring for him. That evening, as Brother Ralf made his way to the chapel for some private contemplation, he told Will that the Abbot had expressed a desire to speak to him.

“Have I done something wrong?” asked Will.

“No, my son,” smiled Brother Ralf. “Our Father takes a pastoral interest in all those under his roof.”

So it was that moments later, Will found himself standing obediently in the Abbot’s private chambers. He masked his surprise at the opulent tapestries that adorned the walls, and the rich red velvet of the Abbot’s robes: a sharp contrast to the ascetism of Brother Ralf and the novice monks.

“Come closer, lad,” smiled the Abbot indulgently. “Let me take a closer look at you.”

Will approached the Abbot’s chair, and caught a whiff of his breath: heavy with wine and red meat. The man’s lips were full and sensual, and coated with a fine sheen of spittle.

“Brother Ralf tells me you served at the castle for a while.”

“Yes, Father.”

“But that of late you have been in the company of vagabonds and thieves.”

“I’m afraid so, but through no choice of my own.”

“We must give thanks that the Lord has delivered you into ... friendlier hands.”

The Abbot rose from his chair, and crumbs of cake fell from his lap. Slowly and deliberately, he waddled towards Will and stood behind him.

“Now, young William. I take it Brother Ralf has conducted a full medical examination of you?”

Will was wrong-footed by the unexpected query.

“An examination, my Lord? No, Sir.”

The Abbot tutted to himself. “Dear me, that was most remiss of him. We must think of the health and welfare of all the monks living here. Who knows what terrible diseases you might have brought with you? Why, you could be riddled with parasites for all we know!”

The Abbot’s mouth was so close to Will’s ear, he could feel the flicker of the man’s tongue against his lobe and hot breath on his neck.

“It is fortunate that, as a novice monk, I underwent considerable medical training. I will be able to ascertain whether it is safe for you to continue to reside with us. Now, lad, remove your clothing...”

Will hesitated. He could not rid himself of the overwhelming suspicion that this supposedly holy man was in truth aroused by the prospect of having him stand naked before him. Surely it couldn’t be happening again? Just when he thought he had finally found a home where he would not be used as a sexual plaything! Moreover, the last thing he wanted to have to do was explain the presence of the chastity device hanging heavy between his legs.

“What are you waiting for? There is no need to be nervous...” The Abbot hissed sibilantly as he placed one sweaty palm on Will’s shoulder. ‘Do as you are told. Strip!”

Reluctantly, Will untied his cord belt, and stepped out of his long brown habit. The Abbot let out a small involuntary gasp at the sight of Will’s nude form. He rested a beringed hand on the back of Will’s neck, and slowly slid his palm down the smooth, pale flesh of Will’s back, until it came to rest just above his plump buttocks.

“Good. Good. You have no outward blemishes on the skin. No sign of leprosy or the plague.” The Abbot’s voice was hoarse and his breathing short.

The fat man’s hand continued its journey, and slowly carressed Will’s juicy arse cheeks. “A good, round rump! That’s what we medical men like to see! And strong, firm, thighs. Your body is deceptively muscular for such a short young man. Yes, a fine young specimen. Very fine indeed.”

Will blushed to hear his body being described in such glowing terms. And his cock, within its captivity, began to twitch, and once again show signs of the desire to harden. Instinctively, he moved his hands to try and hide his genitals, just as the Abbot made a move to examine him from the front.

“Ha! Now don’t be shy, young man,” laughed the holy man, swatting Will’s hands away from his crotch. “It’s nothing I have not seen before!”

Left with no choice, Will let his arms hang by his side.

“Now what have we here?” cooed the Abbot with interest. “A most unusual and unexpected find!” He reached out and hefted the chastity device and its contents into his sweaty palm. “Why have you been fitted with this, young William?”

Will was too ashamed to look the religious man in the eyes. “I was put in it at the castle.”

“Speak up now, young man! Nice and clear – no mumbling!”

“It was a punishment at the castle, Holy Father.”

“Hmmm... most interesting. I shan’t ask for what reason you were punished. We are all sinners after all – you can make your peace with God at confession. I can only assume that you have been locked into a chastity device due to an unwholesome attachment to the sins of the flesh. All of us here in the monastery have taken holy vows of celibacy. So it reassures me that if you have an inclination to lustful thoughts, measures have been taken to ensure you cannot act upon them. I approve, young William.”

The Abbot’s eyes twinkled with delight and he passed his tongue over his wet lips. He released the cock cage and lifted Will’s testicles into his wide palm, rubbing and rolling them between his fingers. Will’s cock – desperate to harden – started to leak precum through the hole in the end of the metal cylinder.

“Open your mouth, boy. Wider.”

And with that, the Abbot inserted two fingers into Will’s mouth and began to probe inside, pushing against his gums and tongue.

“One last place to check. Bend over, boy and touch your toes...”

Sighing deeply, Will did as he was instructed, and felt the familiar sensation of fat fingers nudging at his arsehole. The Abbot started with a couple of experimental prods, before pushing more firmly with his wet index finger.

“Oooh, there we go. Sliding in nice and smoothly. Good, good.”

The velvet robes of the Abbot brushed against Will’s naked thighs as he stood motionless, his pert bottom pointing towards the ceiling, the cleric’s finger wiggling around inside his anus.

Will felt bewildered. This was the Abbot himself: a man of God, and the holiest man he had ever met. Was he becoming arrogant and simply assuming that every man he encountered would naturally desire to fuck him? Surely this bizarre encounter was exactly as it appeared: a straightforward medical examination – didn’t it?! And yet experience of such things and the breathless panting of the obese man, who even now had his finger up his ass, certainly suggested otherwise to young Will.

At last the Abbot seemed satisfied, and withdrew his forefinger from Will’s tight hole. “You may stand upright, my son. You have no disease or infection as far as I can tell.”

Will did as he was instructed and reached for his brown robe.

“I think not,” murmured the Abbot. “Although we follow the example set by our Lord Christ, by offering our help and our forgiveness to all sinners, no matter how licentious; nevertheless, it would be unseemly for a peasant boy who has had to be chastised in the past for his lustful urges to wear the same habit as the holy monks who live here and who permanently dedicate their lives to God.” He paused to lick his lips. “Don’t you agree?”

Will, left with no other choice, nodded dumbly.

The Abbot opened a drawer and produced a white shirt, made of a thin, goassamer like material.

“You can wear this instead,” he said, handing the garment to Will. “Come along now. What are you waiting for? Put it on.”

Will pulled the chemise over his head.

“There,” said the Abbot, retying the cord belt around Will’s waist, “that is more appropriate!”

Will waited in expectation of being handed some breeches for his lower portions, but none seemed forthcoming.

“You may go, William,” came the instruction.

Will looked down forlornly at his new garments. The hem of the white shirt reached just below his crotch. A mere inch or two of material shielded the steel cock-cage from view. At the rear, the blouse barely skimmed his buttocks.

Anticipating Will's objections, the Abbot surreptitiously slipped his fat palm under the shirt and patted him lightly on the posterior.

“For autumn, it is yet mild. We don't want you getting over-heated as you work in the monastery gardens now, do we? This garb is most suitable, I'm sure you'll agree.”

Will could only nod.

“Now I shouldn't have to tell you twice, young man. You are dismissed.”

Later, in the kitchen, Will explained to Brother Ralf the Abbot's reasoning behind his new costume.

“The Holy Father is wise in all things,” was all the monk would reply.

It was a delicate question but Will could not help but ask, “Does he follow all the same vows as you – obedience... chastity...?”

“Of course. He is the wisest, the holiest, the best man I know.”

Something in Brother Ralf's tone warned Will to drop this line of questioning, but he remembered the lascivious panting of the fat old man, and he wondered just how strong the Abbot's vows of celibacy would actually prove to be…