The New Page Boy

The New Page Boy
Showing posts with label forced drinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forced drinking. Show all posts

Monday, 16 May 2022

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.”


Monday, 1 July 2013

Chapter 29 - Wet and Wild




29. Wet and Wild


            Will trudged disconsolately back to his chores. Every step he took made him acutely conscious of the rustling of the nappy he had been forced into. The bulky material between his thighs meant he had to waddle slightly, and his bum, covered in the thin sheen of his hose, felt massive. Meanwhile, he felt his cock already wanting to harden and lengthen within the nappy, but found it was hopelessly constricted by the cold, cruel steel of Raymond’s chastity device. The worst thing was the inevitable knowledge that, sooner or later, he would need the toilet, and that meant he would have no choice but to soil himself. He grimaced in disgust at the thought. Was life here under these circumstances really better than taking his chances on the road with Alexander? Maybe it wasn’t too late, he pondered. Maybe he could yet flee from the castle and try to find the fugitive Steward.
            He shook his head. It was hopeless. Even if he did track him down, Alexander would probably laugh in his face. Will had been a convenient arse for him to fuck, but the Steward had made it very clear he did not want him tagging along with him. Besides, Will was completely reliant on Raymond’s mercy if he ever wanted to be able to touch his cock again: unless he could somehow get his hands on they key that would unlock both the belt encircling his waist and the cruel chastity device.
            The thought of that key brought to mind the other: the iron key to the dungeon, which still nestled incriminatingly in Will’s bedding. Now Alexander was free, it was a dangerous thing for him to hang on to, he decided. He would need to return it to Odin’s key-ring as soon as possible. Not for the first time, he cursed the clumsy assassin whose wayward arrow had not only missed its target but caused Raymond to be promoted to the Prince’s right hand. There would be no more night-time visits to the dormitory for Odin to come and fuck the dark-haired youth. And without them, how could Will hope to get the key back unnoticed? He shuddered with fear at the prospect of replacing Raymond as the object of Odin’s lust.
            He entered the kitchen, where he saw Mortimer standing near the fireplace, turning one of the castle’s mammoth iron spits. Mortimer did a double-take.
            “What are you - ?” he paused as a wicked grin spread across his freckled face. “Have you got a nappy on under your tights?”
            “You needn’t look so pleased about it,” muttered Will.
            “Ah, poor baby Will gonna wet himself?”
            “Please, Mortimer. After all we’ve gone through for the entertainment of Prince Felix…”
            The skinny lad relented. “Did Raymond put you in it?”
            Will nodded mutely.
            “He’s risen to the top like scum, hasn’t he? You never know though – you might be in luck. Sounds like his time as the Prince’s golden boy may have come to an end.”
            “What do you mean?” asked Will, hope springing in his breast.
            “There’s a heck of a noise been coming from the royal apartments. Raymond’s in there with the Prince. It sounds like they’re having a fight!”
           
             Raymond lay, sweating and panting on the priceless rugs of the royal chamber. The Prince may have been at the peak of fitness not too long ago but his weeks of comparative indolence since his arrival at the castle had had an effect. And Raymond’s menial tasks gave him a strength that meant the contest was more equal than he might have anticipated. However, his politician’s mind was whirring: Felix may have wanted a contest but he would surely never forgive Raymond were he to lose!
            The Prince, also appreciating the chance to recover his breath, crawled over to his servant and clambered to his feet. Oily sweat glistened on Felix’s muscled torso. His luxurious green tights clung to him, damp with perspiration and patterned with the oily prints of Raymond’s palms. His perfect white teeth gleamed a wicked grin and he ran a manicured hand through his tousled yellow hair.
            “I’d say we are well-matched, Master Steward. Shall we call a truce and have some refreshment?”
            Raymond smiled back at him, with a pang of regret that he would no longer have the chance to savour that exquisite male form, hosed and panting, gyrating in ultimate proximity to his own. Only moments ago, Felix had lain atop him, breathing hard, dominant and triumphant. And then Raymond had turned the tables, gripping the Prince’s body between his own powerful thighs: the sensation of silken hose against male flesh alluring and intensely exciting.
            He held out his hand and Felix grasped it, hauling the dark youth to his feet. Then, in a sudden move that caught Raymond unawares, the Prince twisted his hosed foot behind Raymond’s ankle, unbalancing him. Before Raymond could hit the floor, the Prince scooped him up in his arms and carried him effortlessly towards the bathroom.
            “Your highness?” gasped Raymond, but the Prince only laughed as he reached the edge of the massive marble bath and held his captive hovering above the water.
            “In you go!” Felix cried, letting go and plunging Raymond into the perfumed bubbles beneath him.
            For a moment, Raymond sank beneath the surface, and then he emerged, spluttering, nose and mouth filled with lavender flavoured water. He watched the Prince clamber into the tub, cocking first one hosed leg over the side of the bath, and then the other: the water instantly causing each green leg to turn a darker shade as the material soaked up the moisture. For a moment, Felix stood there, still as a statue, and then with a triumphant roar, he splashed down on top of Raymond. Once more, Raymond revelled in the sensation of that divinely proportioned form pressing against him: chest against chest, groin pushed against groin, four muscular, tights-clad legs entwined in the warm water.
            There was an evil glint in Felix’s piercing blue eyes and that briefest of warnings gave Raymond chance to gulp some air into his lungs before his royal master pushed his dark head beneath the surface of the water. He held his breath, struggling against the other man’s body, but his efforts came to naught. Eventually, the Prince released his captive and Raymond’s face erupted to the surface, gasping as he filled his bursting lungs.
            “Do you yield?” Felix asked casually.
            Between shuddering breaths, Raymond gasped: “I yield, your Highness. I yield.”
            Prince Felix’s grin grew wider. “Good”. He rolled off Raymond’s body and stepped out of the bath, his green tights sodden and dripping water onto the stone floor. Raymond could not help but observe how the wet material of the hose clung indecently to the globes of the Prince’s buttocks – the arse crack perfectly sculpted and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Raymond’s prick pulsed with the desire to enter that forbidden cave.
            Every moment he spent gazing at the divine physical beauty of the Prince spurred on Raymond’s desire to dominate and subjugate that golden body. God could not have designed better a creature more suited to drive a man into a frenzy of lust. Maybe one day, Raymond mused. After all, had not Felix himself initiated the physical intimacy of their play fight? Stripping down to their naked torsos and clad only in their tights, the oil, the plunge into the pool…
            Raymond’s prick had certainly hardened during the encounter. Surely it was not merely wishful thinking on his part that imagined that the royal member had done the same? He contemplated whether the Prince had ever had sex at all. Surely amongst the knights and squires, the young men of the royal court, Felix would have had his pick of the handsomest and most powerful in the land? Then again, maybe it was the female form that the Prince preferred.
            Raymond smiled inwardly. No, he thought to himself. The vain young man’s arrogance was so great, somehow he knew instinctively that Felix would not regard anyone on earth – male or female – his physical equal. He was positive that the Prince was yet a virgin, unwilling to let any other human approach the secret, sacred parts of his heavenly body.
            What a challenge that would be, thought Raymond: to be the one to steal the Prince’s long-cherished virginity. Well, he had succeeded in becoming Chief Steward. Why not add the position of royal bedfellow into the bargain?
            Emboldened by his erotic thoughts, Raymond risked the merest of playful admonishments: “We had called a truce, my liege…”
            The Prince turned to face him, his cock and balls outlined in perfect detail within the sopping tights. “You think I played unfairly, eh? Then you have learned a valuable lesson today, Master Raymond. When it comes to kings and princes, there is no such thing as ‘fair’” …

            The afternoon sun was warm as Alexander Courcey, the previous incumbent of the post of Chief Steward, trudged along the dirt path. He moved swiftly and cautiously, his dark hood covering his all too recognisable features, avoiding the populated villages and anxious to put as much distance as possible between himself and his former home. Somewhere out here, those lumbering brutes, Odin and Ulfgar, roamed like a tornado, wreaking havoc amongst the peasants. His meagre provisions would not last long, he mused, patting the leather satchel the loyal young Will had purloined for him. And he was desperate to get his hands on a horse to aid his flight. Just a little further, he thought. Just a little further…

            “Drink it. Every last drop.”
            “I’m really not thirsty anymore, Raym - Sir.”
            “Do as you’re told, goat-shit. I want to see that cup drained to the bottom.”
            Raymond lounged on the divan in his chambers, dressed in yet more embroidered finery. The only evidence of his tussle with the Prince were his slightly damp black curls. Before him stood the unfortunate Will, his nappy big and bulky within the silken snugness of his blue hose: his legs forced apart by the amount of wadding wrapped around his private parts.
            It was the third goblet of water that he’d been forced to drink, and Will’s stomach was now full and bloated with the liquid, causing the waistband of his bright blue tights to expand to contain his protruding tummy.
            “You’ve held out this long but I bet you really need to piss now, don’t you, boy?”
            Raymond’s taunt was all too true. Will’s bladder was full to bursting and he desperately needed to relieve it.
            “Don’t you dare let go yet,” threatened Raymond, his eyes glinting in triumph at the predicament of the younger boy. “You hang on until I tell you can release!”
            Will hopped from one stockinged foot to the other, biting his lip in desperation at the need to urinate, knowing all too well that the moment he did, that the fluid would be going nowhere other than into the diaper wrapped around his groin.
            “Everyone’s seen you in your nappy then?” inquired the new Steward. “Everyone in the castle has had a good laugh at you being dressed like a big baby boy?”
            Will nodded, mute and miserable.
            “Answer me, bitch!”
            “Yes, Sir. They’ve all seen me wearing my nappy inside my tights.”
            “Good. Good. So they all know I’m controlling your toilet habits now and deciding exactly when and where you can go. I think we might begin your enema regime again in the morning. I take it you’ve not shat yourself yet?”
            “No, Sir.” For that at least, Will was grateful.
            “It’s only a matter of time,” sneered Raymond. He paused to fetch himself a goblet of wine. “I imagine that urge to piss is stronger than ever now, isn’t it, eh?”
            Will was physically writhing now with the effort of control his need to go, barely able to speak, every ounce of concentration focused on controlling his brimming bladder. “Please, please – oh, oh oh!!”
            And with a disconsolate wail, the battle was lost. His cock pulsed as the fluid began to flow, and Will could not help but feel a desperate kind of relief as he felt the material pressed to his genitals begin to moisten and swell as his piss soaked into it. The warm wetness spread, now to his balls, now along the crack of his arse, now over his buttocks. On he pissed. Unable to stop the flow, try as he might, wetting himself freely as he had not done since he was a toddler back in his mother’s hovel.
            The expression of relief and ecstasy on Will’s previously tortured face told Raymond all he needed to know.
            “You dirty little bitch,” he whispered. “Pissing yourself in your nappy. Filling your diaper like a baby boy. That feel good, does it? All that sodden material clinging to your body?”
            Will’s lower lip trembled as he suffered the degradation of wetting himself in front of his greatest nemesis: the helplessness and the humiliation of the situation flooding over him as surely as his own urine flooded into its cloth enclosure.
            Finally his bladder was empty. But if all that hateful piss was no longer inside him, it hadn’t gone far: the nappy now warm wet and heavier than ever. The diaper sagged within his hosiery, hanging from his hips. It would cool, he knew. Indeed it had begun to do so already. How Will longed to have the horrible, embarrassing thing ripped from him, and to be free of the soggy, bulging loincloth.
            Raymond sniffed the air disdainfully. “You stink, goat-shit, you know that? You disgust me. You’re not even able to exercise a modicum of self-control. Standing in front of your master, pissing freely into your nappy and into your hose. Abasing yourself like an animal. I bet that submissive cock of yours would be twitching into hardness if it weren’t for the chastity device you’re wearing.”
            Will gulped ruefully. Knowing his aberrant prick, it probably would.
“I suppose you’d like me to change you now? Pull your tights down, unpin that demeaning nappy, dry off your wet buttocks, pat them with talcum powder like a pampered infant, and replace it with a nice new clean one?”
Will didn’t know what he wanted anymore. And he knew by now that his wants and desires would not feature in Raymond’s plan anyway.
“Maybe I would have done just that. But you disobeyed me, bitch. I never said you were allowed to piss, and you went ahead and did it anyway. A disobedient baby boy must learn his lesson, don’t you think? And you can mull over your lesson tonight. I don’t imagine any of the other servants will want to eat their dinner anywhere near you, stinking of piss in your stained nappy. They’ll all know exactly what you’ve done, won’t they? And you can spend all night in your soiled diaper too. That’ll be really uncomfortable won’t it? Full and wet and cold material against your skin all night long. I might see fit to change you in the morning. We’ll see. For now, I’m sick of the sight of you. Fuck off and get on with your chores, goat-shit.”
Will went on his way. The giant, wet nappy, sodden with his own bodily fluids, constricted his movement more than ever, and he waddled along, one sorry tights-clad leg after another.