Chapter 64 - A Champagne Celebration

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open wide, slut.”

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

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

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

“Yes, Sir, please, Sir,” he incanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will gazed up woozily and watched Alexander uncork the bottle.

“Let’s get it nice and fizzy, eh?”

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

“Here we go…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open wide, boy! Take a good swig!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will could hardly imagine anything more devastating - and tantalising.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your quest was successful then, my friend.”

Sir Geoffrey smiled benignly at his Steward.

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

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

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

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

“My Lord.” Alexander bowed deeply.

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

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

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

Chapter 62 - Quest for Will

    Alexander surveyed the hushed and expectant crowd. There must have been forty or so peasants eagerly peering at the unique spectacle playing out before them. He took a moment to reflect. He had lost count of the number of hot men he had subjected to some form of public humiliation since his elevation to his current position. He ran through an inventory of some of the sexiest: Peter of Mickelsfield - the dumb hunk he had tricked into canary yellow tights, given a public enema and stuffed with a string of leather balls; Darius the arrogant Arabian soldier -  whom he had shaved, tarred and feathered and forced chicken-like to ‘lay’ an egg;  Arthur and Stanley - the gullible red-headed brothers whose arses he had glued together with a bulb of ginger and whom he had left dangling from a beam in their own cottage; Wench - the quivering bar-boy, dressed as a maid and a string of meaty sausages tied to his prick; Raymond - the scheming slut, who had suffered so many public indignities, not least being the pisspot of the desiccated Sir Wilfrid; the divine Prince Felix himself, who had been gunged, stuffed and reduced to a squealing infant in front of his own aunt; and last but not least, Will: the sexiest slutboy of them all, whose perfect arse haunted his dreams, and who had submitted to every degrading act Alexander had visited upon him, and yet still saved his cruel master from certain death.
    However, much as he might demean them verbally, dress them in clinging hosiery that robbed them of their pride, and in some cases, their very masculinity, wash out their holes and stuff them with food, tie them up, gag them, gunge them, spank them, plug their arses with whatever humiliating objects he could find, the actual sexual act had always remained for him something to be done in private: an intimate moment for him and the objects of his lust. But with this peasant farmer bent over so that his cream-coloured ass stuck out as lewdly as the most provocative concubine, Alexander found that for once he wanted nothing so much as to simply plough his long cock into that inviting hole as surely as the farmer ploughed his fields. And somehow he knew instinctively that for this particular victim, a simple fuck would be the most humiliating thing of all.
    Jack could not look over his shoulder with his neck clamped in the stocks,  so he flinched with the unexpected sensation as Alexander started to roll down the waist-band of his newly acquired tights. Alexander did so slowly, tantalisingly, gradually revealing the pale, naked curve of Jack’s buttocks. He let the waist-band rest just beneath the arse cheeks, framing the two plump slabs of meat most delightfully.
    “You should be grateful that I will at least lubricate your opening,” he said as he reached into the pouch that hung from his belt, and coated a couple of fingers with grease. “Are you ready?”
    Despite the cold, Jack’s crack was sweaty as Alexander began to oil it up. Jack’s breathing grew faster as his most intimate opening was fondled and probed by the cruel stranger.
    “In we go…”
    And Alexander pushed two fingers into the man’s hole.
    “Ooh, that’s very tight! Don’t tell me your scrawny wife has never pleasured you up there? Well maybe you will develop a taste for it - though I doubt she will have my expertise!”
    “No, please, please…” mumbled Jack as Alexander withdrew his fingers.
    “Beg all you like, peasant. I like to hear you beg.”
    Alexander reached into his own hose and freed his already hard cock, smearing some of the same grease around his shaft and mushroom-shaped head.
    “Don’t worry. This won’t take long. I’m a busy man - and you do not interest me sufficiently for me to linger.” This much was true: in other circumstances he would have invented a far kinkier humiliation. A mere fuck whilst his victim was locked in the stocks was positively vanilla as far as Alexander was concerned!
    Gripping Jack’s hips firmly, Alexander positioned his engorged cock against the puckered opening of the farmer’s anus.
    “Breathe deeply, now,” he murmured. “This is going to hurt.”
    Jack began to pant as he felt himself, slowly but surely, being raped by Alexander’s meaty member. The new sensation of penetration overwhelmed him, and is often the case, his own cock began to twitch of its own volition.
    “Being a fucktoy obviously runs in the family,” grinned Alexander as he squeezed the growing bulge in Jack’s tights. “In we go now, all the way.”
    And he slid his cock up the farmer’s warm, wet chute.
    Jack’s jaw gaped in horror. He screwed up his eyes to try and block out the experience, but he couldn’t block out the sniggers of his neighbours, and their mocking, pitying looks were imprinted on his mind.
    Alexander began to rock backwards and forwards, enjoying the feeling of control as he fucked his helpless victim. He luxuriated in the fluttering sensation of Jack’s ring as it squeezed down on his rock hard cock. The back and forth movement was already bringing him close to climax.
    “Ooh, do I detect a little leakage, farmer? I do believe you’re staining your fine cream tights with pre-cum. You’re enjoying this more than you expected, no?”
    The taunt pushed Jack over the edge, and he began to emit a gibbering sob: the humiliating emasculation too much. The bewildering betrayal of his body as his cock responded to the fuck in spite of him.
    “Oh I like to see a grown man cry as I rape his ass,” hissed Alexander. ”Gets me really horny. Really turned on. My cock fucking your velvety hole. Mmmm. Feels so good….”
    And with that, Alexander erupted and his hot creamy ism shot deep into Jack’s reluctant bowels.
    Jack’s whole body convulsed as Alexander possessed him, broke him. And slowly, Alexander withdrew his still hard cock from the farmer’s pulsing hole and stowed it away within his black hose. Grease and cum, mingled and leaked from the peasant’s orifice.
    He walked round to look at his victim’s face, and leered at Jack’s tear-stained cheeks.
    “Let that be a lesson to control your wife better, peasant.”
    Alexander turned to speak to the rest of the village.
    “Now, I have ten copper pieces for anyone who can supply information as to the whereabouts of the boy named Will. Who wants to claim the prize?”
    Silence.
    Then after an agonising pause, a lanky lad cleared his throat and spoke up. “I saw him, Sire,” said the teenager. “Lunk took him.”
    “Lunk? Tell me more.”
    Almost as an afterthought, Alexander turned back to where Jack hung dejectedly from the stocks: his cream tights stained with pre-cum at the crotch, his nude, meaty arse still jutting out behind him.
    “You can stay there for a while to ponder your shortcomings as both a husband and a brother. I’m a generous man though, farmer. I’ll let you keep the tights.”

    The lanky teenager’s name was Nicky. Both he and his parents looked frankly terrified at the prospect of him accompanying Alexander on his quest to track down Will. Alexander’s disparaging comment that Nicky had a body like a stick insect and a face like a pug dog, and that as a result he had absolutely no interest him in sexually, did little to reassure them.
    Nicky had only a vague idea of the location of Lunk’s lair, so their meandering journey took them several hours. The lad also seemed torn between fear of Lunk and of Alexander.  Eventually, they came across an abandoned barn in a clearing in the forest. Disused farm equipment lay rusting in the late afternoon sun. Suddenly Alexander heard a retching sound from the youth. He span round to see Nicky’s green countenance, and followed where he was pointing.
    It was the carcass of what had once been a giant: the meat stripped from its bones - presumably by wolves. Alexander had his guards perform a search of the barn and its surroundings, but the place was clearly abandoned - and judging by the condition of Lunk’s corpse, had been for some time.
    Alexander spat on the ground. “A dead-end,” he cursed ruefully.

    With the trail cold, Alexander had no choice but to return to the castle, instructing one of his bodyguards to deposit the still queasy-looking Nicky back to the bosom of his relieved family.
    Lord Geoffrey sympathised. “The lad could be anywhere: sold into slavery, most likely he is dead.”
    Alexander nodded.
    “The Christmas festivities will keep you busy. And besides, there are many more page boys who will undoubtedly entertain you.”
    
    His duties certainly occupied him, but disconcertingly, and for the first time in his life, Alexander found that his libido had deserted him. Pert arses bobbed around the castle grounds, and hose-covered bulges which he would once have found enticingly distracting, merited no more than a mere glance. And he wondered whether even that was more from habit than actual desire. He found himself contemplating the disturbing proposition that his feelings for Will extended beyond mere lust.
    
    It was a cloudy morning and he found himself in a mood even more melancholy than usual, when Humphrey, the plump pageboy, reported that a rough looking villain had presented himself at the castle gates and told the guards that he had information that the Chief Steward himself would want to hear.
    Rejecting his initial instinct to have the thief flogged and thrown into the dungeon, something made Alexander relent, and minutes later, the tall, lean, black-skinned rogue stood before him.
    “I’m a busy man,” said Alexander brusquely. “And I’m not accustomed to wasting my time with a scoundrel such as you.”
    “Don’t be so hasty, my Lord,” replied Ebony. “I hear you’re trying to find the blond lad with the arse like a peach.”
    Alexander raised an eyebrow.
    “I can tell you where to find him.”
    “Why on Earth should I believe a thief?”
    “Because I tracked him down after he escaped from Lunk’s lair. And I know where he’s hiding.”
    “And where is that precisely?”
    “Come now. Fair’s fair. You don’t expect me to give you the information for nothing do you?”
    “What’s to stop me throwing you in the dungeon and torturing it out of you? I have some very persuasive tools at my disposal.”
    “My endurance levels are high, my Lord. Who knows how long that might take? And by then the boy might have moved on elsewhere…”
    “Hmmm. But I might enjoy the torture for its own sake.” Alexander rose and placed his ringed palm against the thief’s muscular chest. He ran his hand down Ebony’s torso until it came to rest at his crotch. “Leather trousers have a certain appeal. But I think a close-fitting pair of hose would suit you very nicely, my dangerous friend.”
    Ebony rang his tongue over his white teeth. “You’d not find me as submissive as your little bitch boy. You’d meet your match in me, my Lord.”
    “Well, now, that does sound an appealing challenge. I’m tempted to have you manacled and flung into my dungeon right away. Submissiveness has its attractions in certain circumstances but I do also enjoy using a hot stud who puts up a fight.”
    For the first time, a flicker of doubt appeared in Ebony’s eyes.
    “But I’ll humour you,” grinned Alexander. “Name your price for revealing the whereabouts of the boy.”
    Ebony smirked. “I’d like the bitch for myself. He’s a hot little slut. But failing that, I’d take a hundred gold sovereigns.”
    “Ha!” The sound was harsh and scornful. “No catamite is worth that. I could buy a thousand sluts from Gregory the Slave Trader for that price.”
    “But this boy clearly means more to you. Master Alexander Courcey doesn’t go traipsing through the wet and freezing countryside for just any old whore. And he’s not even a virgin, I know that from personal experience. I flooded his bowels with ale before I forced him to suck my prick. It was a very entertaining evening.”
    “I’m intrigued,” murmured Alexander. “If you know where he is, and you want him for yourself, why not go and claim him?”
    Ebony seemed momentarily thrown. Then he regained his composure. “What can I tell you, my Lord? The sexual urge is fleeting and after it’s satisfied, it disappears. I’d rather have cold, hard coins. They stay with you after your prick’s gone soft.”
    “Ten gold coins. Five now. Five once I have the boy.”
    “I can show you where he is. Why should my price depend on whether you succeed in taking him?”
    “It’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”
    Ebony glared at Alexander. “I’ll take it.”   

    “I’m most sorry, Master Courcey, that you have had a wasted journey, but young Will left the monastery some three weeks ago.”
    Brother Ralf spread his hands in a mollifying gesture.
    “He’s lying,” hissed Ebony through gritted teeth. “He’s trying to protect the boy.”
    Alexander turned to the thief with ill-concealed impatience. “Don’t judge all men by your own low standards.” He glanced around the monastery garden with its neat flowerbeds and rows of herbs. “Brother Ralf here could no more tell a lie than he could cut off his own hand. Besides,” and here he grinned ingratiatingly at the monk, “he knows that young Will will be safe in my care. Why, I think of the boy as my own son.”
    Brother Ralf looked at Alexander a little skeptically but said nothing.
    Alexander turned to Ebony. “Be off with you now, before I have you arrested.”
    “What about my other five gold pieces?” demanded the thief.
    “You’d have had those if the boy were actually here. Don’t push your luck.”
    Ebony’s hand strayed to the dagger at his belt.
    “No!” whispered Brother Ralf. “This is holy ground!”
    But Alexander’s bodyguards had pre-empted the move and already had their swords positioned at Ebony’s back.
    “I told you to go, ruffian,” said Alexander. “I’m not accustomed to having to repeat myself.”
    Cursing profusely, the thief knew he had been bested and beat a hasty retreat.
    “I’m truly sorry that I cannot furnish you with news that pleases you better, my Lord,” said Ralf.
    “As am I,” replied Alexander ruefully. He turned to go, but just then, a thought occurred to him. “I don’t suppose the Abbot is in residence? It would be impolite of me to visit without paying my respects…”

    “And to what do we owe this pleasure, Alexander?” beamed the fat little man in his white robe. “Did you just happen to be in the vicinity?”
    “Something like that, Father,” replied Alexander evasively.
    The Abbot smiled his blubbery smile. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you since Prince Felix’s birthday celebrations. What an evening that was! His royal highness really did get quite the surprise, didn’t he? How is he? I understand he’s remaining under Lord Geoffrey’s wardship for the time being.”
    “Yes. Sadly the toll of his father’s plight has weighed heavily on the young Prince’s mind. He’s suffered something of a breakdown. The physicians are doubtful he will ever fully recover.”
    “How sad,” murmured the Abbot. “And he showed such … promise. Well, if ever your master decides the Prince needs some spiritual intervention, I should be most glad to … get my hands on him.”
    “I’m sure you would, you filthy old lecher,” thought Alexander, although he said nothing.
    “Those muscular legs in his silken hose… Quite exquisite. He really is such a beauty. I must confess, I’ve always had something of a weakness for blonds. If you catch my meaning, Alexander.” The Abbot gave him a conspiratorial wink.
    A thought occurred to the Steward.
    “Speaking of blonds, holy Father. I happen to be searching for a young page boy. He belongs to the castle household and, rather irritatingly, earlier this year, during my… absence, he seems to have been mislaid. I gather he was offered sanctuary here at the monastery for some weeks before he went on his way. I don’t suppose you have any idea where he might have gone…”
    “I wish I could help, Alexander. Sadly my communion with our Lord and my duties tutoring the novices here leave me little time to bother with runaway page boys - blond or otherwise. Perhaps Brother Ralf could help…?”
    “Sadly he knows no more than you, Father. Ah well, it seems my search has once again reached a dead end.”
    Alexander kissed the Abbot’s chubby hand and made his way to the chamber door. He placed his hand on the handle, but just as he did so, he was startled by a muffled squeak. He turned on his heel.
    “What was that?”
    “I - I heard nothing,” stammered the Abbot.
    “It sounded like it came from the cabinet over in the corner.”
    “Ah. Yes. Mice. The monastery has been plagued with them since we lost  Mistress Tibbles.”
    Alexander raised a questioning eyebrow.
    “Our cat.”
    The Abbot returned Alexander’s gaze, as if daring him to question the veracity of his claim. The two men weighed each other up for what felt like an eternity.
    “My sympathy,” said Alexander, eventually. “The cat from the castle kitchens has recently littered. I’ll send you one of her kittens.”
    “We would be eternally grateful,” simpered the Abbot.
    “Goodbye, Father. I hope to see you at the castle for the Christmas festivities.”
    “I shall look forward to it immensely.”
    The Abbot watched as Alexander closed the door behind him. He waited a moment and then shuffled to his cabinet and unlocked the door.
    “That was close, you little devil,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare try anything like that again or you’ll be in even more trouble. Now it’s time for your daily milking.”
    And the Abbot grabbed Will’s cock in his clumsy grasp and began tugging it in his fat and sweaty palm.
    Will could have cried in frustration. First there was the shock at hearing Alexander’s voice again after all this time, followed by astonishment that the Steward had actually survived and was reinstalled in his former post at the castle. And then there was amazement that he had come looking for him, and then the awful frustration that release had been so near - and yet remained so tantalisingly far away. He recoiled as the Abbot continued to jerk his semi-erect prick: salvation so near and yet so far.

Chapter 47 - The Beer Fountain

Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe there was something in the air. But the castle courtyard was not the only place that night to experience godless and drunken debauchery. Young Will had started life in a hovel before being given a brief glimpse of the lives of royalty and the nobility. However, the pageantry and gorgeous finery of Castle Montford were for him now but a distant memory: his new home was the filthy, stinking barn that was Lunk’s lair.

The presence of the various Dunchester merchants at the castle had afforded Lunk and his gang of reprobates a prime opportunity to break in and burglarise their homes. Their cache of furs, jewels and gold coins were slung carelessly in the corner of the barn, and the bandits were making very free with the alcohol they had appropriated from their victims’ wine cellars.

Will sat quietly, tethered as ever to the iron ring fixed to the wall of the barn. He felt more animal than human now. The tattered shreds of his fine blue tights had long ago been ripped from his body. He was completely naked. His blond hair fell into his eyes and his flesh bore the bruises of Lunk’s callous brutality. He tried to remain in the shadows. Experience had taught him that if he could remain silent and forgotten about, there was more likelihood of the gang slipping into a drunken stupor and leaving him in peace. If not, he would be guaranteed a relentless merry-go-round of being abused and fucked until the sun rose and he lay there, sore and aching, with a dozen different men’s semen seeping out of his raw backside. And what was worst of all was that deep down a part of him that he could not hope to comprehend, enjoyed the rough treatment at the hands of the gang of thieves.

However, it seemed that tonight was not destined to be a quiet night.

One of the brutes loomed over Will. “And how is Lunk’s plaything this evening?” he said.

This was Ebony: his skin as black as his name suggested. He was tall – though not as tall as the monstrous Lunk – and lean and muscular in his robber’s leather jerkin and trousers. Many a time Will had been relentlessly speared on Ebony’s swollen cock. He bent down to hiss into Will’s ear: “One of these days, boy, I’m going to steal you from Lunk and you’re going to be all mine. My little bitch slave. And oh boy, I’ll fuck you morning, noon and night. And you’ll be begging me to stop, boy. But it won’t do you no good...”

Ebony reached between Will’s muscular thighs and squeezed the lad’s aching bollocks. “Jesus, how long have you had that metal thing on your cock now, slut? You must be soooo desperate to come...”

Will gulped and nodded. He spent every waking hour thinking of nothing else but his poor, throbbing balls. They were now so sensitive, the slightest touch threatened to send his penis into spasm, but the cruelty of the cock cage always prevented the desired-for erection and denied him that long-awaited release.

Ebony lifted the chastity device – Will’s wretched pecker imprisoned within – into his broad palm and inspected it closely. “I could get this off you pretty easily, you know, bitch,” he remarked casually.

A wild hope leapt in Will’s heart. “Really?! Could you?” he gasped.

“Of course. I can pick any lock there is. This one isn’t so hard.” He smirked. “If you take my meaning.”

“Please,” begged Will, “My balls ache so much. It’s all I can think of! I’ll do anything...”

“Ha! What can you possibly give me that I couldn’t just take from you straight away?”

Will’s heart sank. It was true. He was no better than a tethered animal, naked and friendliness, and without a possession in the world. He had nothing to bargain with. He looked over Ebony’s shoulder to see the robbers gleefully counting their loot.

“Then again,” whispered Ebony. “It might be fun for me to jerk off your little cock for you. A reward for all the nights of pleasure I’ve had from using your hole...”

Will could hardly dare dream that his cock might finally be released from the chastity device which Raymond had fixed to his groin all those months ago.

“Oh please, Ebony,” he murmured. “Please...”

The robber withdrew a small leather wallet from his jerkin, and with no hesitation selected one of the many needle-like devices from within. After only a few seconds of wiggling the pick into the chastity cage’s lock, Will heard the joyous click which told him the lock had been sprung. He was free!

“I told you that I could do it easily, boy...”

Ebony began to slide the metal cylinder off Will’s cock and finally, after all these long, torturous weeks, Will felt cool fresh air against the delicate flesh of his suffering prick. It began to stiffen almost immediately in anticipation of being allowed to release that torrent of cum that had been building in his balls for so, so long.

And then, quick as a flash, Will felt his cock being encased once again inside the instrument of torture, and heard the ominous click of the lock sealing him inside once more.

“Nooooo!!!” he howled in despair.

“Ha!” laughed Ebony. “The look on your face! You get nothing for nothing in this world, bitch! When you have something worth bargaining with – then we’ll see if I feel like setting your cock free for some action...”

Will’s anguished cry had captured the attention of Lunk and the other rogues.

“Lunk’s toy!” bellowed the giant.

“Hey, Lunk,” said Ebony. “I was just thinking – we should share some of this booze with the fucktoy, don’t you think? It’s only fair to let him have his part of the spoils, after all.”

“What you mean?” replied Lunk.

“Untie him and hand him to me, and I’ll show you.”

Will was untethered and shoved over to the black robberman. He, in turn, passed the naked lad to two other members of the rough gang. “Turn the bitch upside down!” he ordered.

Lunk began to laugh in anticipation of the impending fun. “What you going do with Lunk’s pet?”

Ebony reached down for a large bottle of beer as Will found himself spun into the air. The two robbers grabbed an ankle each and Will immediately felt the blood start to rush to his head.

“Get his legs apart!” ordered Ebony as he began to shake the beer bottle vigorously.

“Please – “ murmured Will as his legs were spread so that his body was forced to adopt a ‘Y’ shape.

“Let’s give you a nice long drink of cool beer...” said Ebony. And in a trice, he removed the cork stopper from the neck of the beer bottle, and just as rapidly, upended the glass bottle and shoved it into Will’s unprotected anus.

“Noooooo!” cried Will at the shocking invasion, the blunt bottle neck forced a couple of inches into his dry rectum. The ice cold liquid shot into his body, the bubbling fluid gushing deep inside, aided by gravity, as it gurgled into him. The catcalls of the robbers rang in his ears as Ebony began a running commentary on the level of the beer in the glass bottle.

“That’s nearly half of it gone already! Jesus, the slut’s ass must have been thirsty. Look at how that beer has flooded straight into him! He’s just guzzling it right up! That feel good, bitch? Taking that booze up your asshole?”

Ebony peered more closely at the level of the fluid.

“Ah what a shame! Now, it seems like you’ve slowed down. Are you abusing our generous hospitality?! Come on now, slut, it would be rude of you not to drink it all, don’t you think, fellers?”

Ebony grasped the upturned bottle and, keeping its aperture lodged firmly inside Will’s arse, began to shake it again so that more of its fizzing contents shot into Will’s anal passage. Will tried to struggle as the bitter liquid stang his insides but there was no escape from the powerful grip of the thugs holding him tight.

“Less than a quarter left!” declared Ebony as he wiggled the bottle inside Will’s hole. “Take it all now, boy! Come on!”

The final dregs of the beer flowed into Will’s back passage, and almost immediately, his guts began to grumble at the pressure of having to contain the gassy fluid. Will knew he should by now be used to being used as an object of pure entertainment by the thuggish robbers, but each fresh humiliation still somehow managed to affect him. In spite of all he had endured in the past year, here he was: naked, immobile, dangled upside down by his ankles and at the mercy of a gang of brutes as an empty beer bottle protruded obscenely and humiliatingly from his ass, its icy contents having flooded inside him.

Ebony yanked the bottle free of Will’s hole, and with two thick fingers began to probe at his victim’s puckered opening. Will wanted to protest at the rough handling of his anus but he knew better than to complain, so he merely stifled his pained gasp.

“Ha!” laughed Ebony. “I can spy all the cheap booze swirling around inside you, bitch boy!”

“Give him another bottle!”

“Yeah get him really pissed!”

A second bottle was shaken so its contents fizzed and in it went in the self-same way as the first, turned upside down and rammed unceremoniously into Will’s poor bum. Drunk and aroused, Ebony was more brutal this time and he began to fuck Will vigorously with the bottle’s thick neck, causing the searing beer to shoot inside the boy. Back and forth, back and forth went the green bottle: the fatal combination of liquid and air causing Will’s belly to swell and distend. As the gas built inside him, Will could not help but unleash a thunderous belch.

“What a pig!”

“Yeah – mind your manners, bitch boy!”

The alcohol was starting to make him feel woozy – not helped by the fact that the blood had rushed to his head due to his uncomfortable upside-down position.

“There you go!” declared Ebony at last. “Two whole bottles of beer poured inside the slut’s chute!” And he pulled the second bottle from Will’s poor arse hole and threw it into the corner of the barn.

Will’s guts churned in turmoil and he was overcome by the desperate urge to expel the liquid from his bowels.

As if reading his mind, Ebony taunted him: “Now don’t you go spilling a drop of that fine booze, bitch! We’ve been generous enough to share our ale with you. You’ll be in trouble if you leak even a drop!”

By now, Will had plenty of experience of trying to squeeze his rosebud hole as tight as possible to try and contain within him whatever liquid had been intrusively forced inside. But the bubbly gas of the beer swilling inside him made this even harder than usual. A sudden cramp hit him, and he could only imagine the intense relief and satisfaction he would feel at being given permission to expel the ale from his butt. His breathing came more rapidly and Ebony noticed the agonised expression cross Will’s face.

“Ooooh,” cooed the robber. “Are you cramping, bitch?” And he slapped Will’s bloated belly. “That’s gotta hurt, eh?!”

Will gritted his teeth as the sweat dripped from his brow and landed on the ground.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Please let me down so I can go to the toilet...”

“What do you think, fellers?” cried Ebony to his inebriated colleagues. ‘Shall we let the naked little bitch release all that lovely beer sloshing around inside him?!”

Ebony began to fumble with the crotch of his trousers. “Or maybe I should give him something else to drink...”

More catcalls erupted from the thugs as Ebony released his veiny prick from his pants. Already semi-hard, it bobbed threateningly as he approached Will. “Lift him up higher!”

Laughter ringing in Will’s ears, he found himself being hoisted higher in the air, so he was now grabbed round his thighs. This meant that his mouth was now positioned level with Ebony’s black cock. Will spotted Lunk away to one side: his putative master gorging himself on wine and meat stolen from their latest raid. These days, Lunk occasionally expressed proprietorial feelings towards his pet, but it was clear to Will that the novelty of owning a cute boy slave was beginning to fade. Will wondered with trepidation what that might mean for his future.

However, he did not have the luxury of contemplating that prospect for very long. A fresh cramp hit him in the stomach, and his head swam with the pain and the intoxication of the alcohol coursing through his blood. However, he soon had other things on his mind.

“Suck on my dick, faggot,” ordered Ebony, and in one swift, thrusting movement, he plunged his throbbing cock between Will’s plump pink lips.

Will gagged as the thick head of the bandit’s penis disappeared down the back of his throat. He was overwhelmed by sensations: the blood rushing to his head as he dangled upside down, the long-familiar ache in his balls and painful constriction of his cock within its cage, the bloated booze tormenting his poor belly and the simultaneous fight to squeeze his ass muscles tight and keep the bubbling fluid inside him, and now the musky scent of Ebony’s crotch against his nostrils, as drool began to emerge from his plugged mouth.

Just when he thought Ebony intended to suffocate him, the thief withdrew his cock, leaving Will gasping for air.

“Mmmm, you learned well at the castle, sucking off all those rich lords in their fancy tights, bitchboy... You get that tongue to work now and suck my cock like your life depended on it. Who knows? Maybe it will!”

Will tried his hardest to please, slavering over the unwelcome and brutal intruder, swirling his tongue round the thick trunk of Ebony’s dick, and lapping at the sensitive flesh of the robber’s cockhead. But Ebony had no time for Will’s attempts at delicacy. The thief slipped his hand into his pocket, extracted a little glass vial, and uncorked it. Barely pausing from pounding his genitals into Will’s mouth, Ebony inhaled a long draught from the potion.

Will caught a whiff of the aroma and was instantly transported to the first time he had ever inhaled the scent: back in Alexander’s chambers a whole year ago: when he had been dressed in hose, tied up and fucked for the very first time. He remembered how the Chief Steward had forced the potion on him and how it had turned him into a horny, rutting animal. How he wished Ebony would share the potion with him now, and transport him – for however brief a time – from this hellish and painful predicament. But the thief clearly had no intention of being so generous. And Will was now experienced enough to recognise the signs of the potion taking effect.

Ebony’s eyes seemed to flash red, his breathing became faster, and his thrusting cock became even faster, harder, more desperate.

“Take my dong, bitch!” gasped Ebony. “I’m using you, raping your slave mouth with my monster cock. And don’t you love it, slut?! That’s all you’re good for! To be dangled upside down, with a real man’s cock in your mouth. Your own little pecker all caged and useless. And your ass filled to the brim with ice cold beer... Bet that must feel soooo humiliating!”

Ebony paused and withdrew his rampaging manmeat. He aimed a firm slap at Will’s distended belly.

“Ahhhh!” cried Will as a cramp hit him.

“Yeah, bet that really hurts, bitch, doesn’t it! You must want to let all that beer out sooo badly!”

“Please, Sir,” begged Will. “PLEASE!!!”

Ebony looked round the circle at his compadres. Then he sniggered. “Yeah I reckon we could use the entertainment. When I say so – and not a second sooner – you’re gonna squeeze your ass muscles and spray all that beer into the air. We’re gonna have ourselves our own special water feature, mates! Our very own beer fountain!”

Will felt sick. The idea of being forced to void himself of the beer in such an obscene and degrading way was truly horrible. Why then, did his poor encaged cock twitch at the prospect? He was in no doubt that had it not been locked into the chastity device, it would now be stiffening at the prospect of the beer enema being eliminated from his body in such a public and humiliating manner. But for now, the joyful notion of being allowed to expel the gassy ale from his belly overcame all other emotions.

Ebony had grasped his long cock in his right hand and was now wanking it furiously, Will’s drool clinging to it like lubricant.

The pressure in Will’s stomach was building and he fought desperately not to allow the beer inside him to leak before he was given permission to expel. He could only hope that Ebony would cum before too long.

The thief’s teeth gleamed white in an evil grin as he tugged vigorously at his cock. “Not just yet, boy! Not just yet!”

The band of robbers, Lunk included, began a slow hand clap as Ebony showed signs of reaching climax. His broad chest heaved, his breath became faster and shallower, and then just as he approached orgasm he screamed the blessed instructions that Will had been longing for: “Shoot that beer out of your ass, boy! Let’s see you become a human beer fountain!!”

Will did not need to be told twice. The sheer relief of being allowed to evacuate his bowels! He squeezed his ass muscles and, instantaneously, a geyser of beer erupted from his swollen boy hole.

The bandits gawped as the fluid shot several feet into the air, seemed to hang for a split second, motionless in the night sky, and then inevitably spattered to the ground. The beer, warmed from its time inside Will’s body, splashed down onto his naked flesh, hitting his tormented limbs and torso. And at the same time, streams of thick gloopy semen sprayed from Ebony’s cock, hitting Will’s chest and face.

Instinctively, Will screwed up his eyes and mouth, but as the ale continued to erupt intermittently from his arse, he could not avoid being soaked head to toe in the stale beer and Ebony’s hot cum. It dripped from his eyelashes and into his hair.

Finally, the thieves holding on to his legs released their grip and his body was allowed to fall to the ground. Ebony placed a well aimed boot at the boy’s arse as Will lay there, utterly exhausted, coated in beer and cum, belching boozy burps from one end, still spurting occasional shots of beer from the other.

Chapter 40 - Jasper's Treat

Breakfast done, Alexander slipped back into a contented mid-morning doze. He must be more tired than he realised, he thought when he awoke again in the stifling little room. He flung the casement window wide open, and ventured downstairs. Then he took up the same place in the corner of the tavern that he had selected the previous evening. Although it was earlier in the day, already the place was busier than the night before. Apparently Wench’s new uniform had excited some comment in the local area, and the landlord’s friends and neighbours were crowding in to catch a glimpse of the unfortunate young man.

The boy’s parents nodded to Alexander uncertainly, as if fearing that he might demand that they be similarly attired. Alexander merely glanced at them contemptuously and waited for Wench to reappear from behind the bar.

When the teenager did shuffle out to serve the throng of clients, he was met by a chorus of responses: from sniggering whispers, through to throaty guffaws. Truth be told, thought Alexander, he did present a truly ridiculous sight: the delicately feminine cap balanced on his lank, pale fringe, his skinny chest naked save for the occasional greasy fleck of wax, and the pretty lace apron barely concealing his naked genitals as it wafted daintily above his bright pink, stockinged legs.

Wench’s father rolled his eyes in exasperation, hoping that a show of bravado would exclude him from sharing in his son’s humiliation, as his friends and neighbours openly mocked the miserable youth. The landlord walloped his son’s naked backside with a twisted tea-towel and, laughing tentatively, commanded: “Get on with your work, girl”, even as his eyes darted from one customer to another, desperately seeking their camaraderie and their approval.

Taking their cue from the physical familiarity of the boy’s father, and invited by the shameful soubriquet “SLUT” branded in wax along Wench’s back, others became bold enough to manhandle him as he made his way among them. The lad tried to dodge their degrading assaults, but there were too many of them, and he resigned himself to having his pale, naked arse slapped, groped and pinched by the inn’s patrons, men and women both.

The plastered-on smile of the frizzy-haired landlady faltered briefly as comments, some whispered, some uttered rather less discreetly, reached her ears. “Spread-legged whore!”; “Mewling little bitch-boy!”; “Arse hanging out for all to see!”; “I’d die of shame rather than see my brat parading himself in public!” “Fancy pimping out your own son like that!” She consoled herself with the knowledge that their takings that day already easily outstripped the amount of cash that had crossed the bar over the past two weeks.

“I should be charging you commission, woman,” muttered Alexander darkly in her ear. He reached down to tickle the head of the sleeping mongrel at her feet, who woke briefly and then rolled onto his back to encourage further attention.

Alexander watched the tavern fill up even more and he lingered a while longer to enjoy Wench’s ever-increasing distress. Then he informed his hostess that he would be taking his leave of them in an hour or two, but that he had certain requirements prior to his departure. He issued his instructions to the bewildered woman and then retired to his room to wait.

Fifteen minutes later came a timid tap on his door, and Wench appeared, still dressed as before and looking more mournful than ever, a loaded tray balanced on his one arm.

“Come in, lad,” said Alexander. “Put the tray down on that table.”

The serving-boy did so, and then asked, “Did Ma get that right? Is that really how you want them?”

“Your ‘good’ mother has done exactly as I ordered.”

Alexander paused, the confirmation serving only to increase Wench’s confusion. Finally, he broke the silence.

“How goes it, boy?”

Wench’s bottom lip quivered. “I don’t think they’ll ever let me forget it, Sir. I’ll be known as a bare-bummed slutboy for as long as I live…”

Alexander nodded sagely. “You’re probably right. By the way, do you still have that coin I gave you tucked safely up your butt?”

“I haven’t had chance to take it out and hide it yet. Ma and Pa have been watching me the whole time.”

“Would you like to earn another, Wench?”

“Do I have a choice?” the boy whimpered.

“You see, you’re not as stupid as you look! Come over here and lie on the bed. No, on your back. That’s right.”

Wench glanced nervously around him with his large grey eyes, as Alexander swiftly fastened his bare wrists and stockinged ankles to the four corners of the bed. Once Alexander was satisfied that his spread-eagled victim was safely secured, he turned to the tray he had requested, and the plate which rested upon it.

There they lay: fat, pale and pink. The grasping landlady had supplied Alexander with the string of thick pork sausages he required, and, furthermore, she had not dared to question his adamant insistence that they be raw. Next to the plate stood a pottery jug of spicy, tomato relish. Alexander dipped his finger in and tasted the condiment. Not bad, he mused, not bad at all.

He picked up the string of sausages and weighed them in his hands. There must be about four pounds worth, he thought to himself. Next, he fetched a thin piece of twine from his capacious leather satchel and tied it securely to the last sausage dangling at the end of the string. Carrying the porky bundle over to the bed, he climbed on top of the mattress and knelt between Wench’s wide spread thighs.

“What are you going to do?” asked the bewildered boy, fearing that having been subjected to anal invasion by a candle, ice cubes and Alexander’s monstrous cock, the raw sausages might well be the next humiliating thing pushed up his butthole.

“Didn’t I tell you only to speak when spoken to?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir.”

Alexander proceeded to loop the spare length of the twine around Wench’s flaccid penis, tying the cord tight around the boy’s cockhead, and knotting it there. The lad’s pathetic prick looked feeble and wan next to the healthy plumpness of the sausages, and it was half the length and half the girth into the bargain. Alexander continued his strange task, carefully arranging the rest of the sausages, now safely secured at one end to Wench’s helmet, in a neat line that ran down between the boy’s legs and dangled over the end of the bedspread.

Alexander returned to the tray and this time selected the jug of relish. Starting at the final sausage in the row, he began to pour the thick sauce over the raw meat. Dollop after dollop of dark, red liquid sploshed onto the phallic tube. Once the first sausage had been coated to Alexander’s satisfaction, he moved onto the second, and then the third, until eventually, the entire string of them was covered in the stuff. An occasional lump of tomato or some other unidentifiable, but presumably edible, chunk splashed out of the jug, marring both the blanket and Wench’s stockinged legs with greasy stains.

He paused and looked knowingly into Wench’s frightened eyes. “You know what comes next, boy, don’t you?” he smirked, and he triumphantly upended the jug’s dregs over Wench’s crotch.

Wench gasped as the cold gunk hit his prick and balls and oozed down into the crack of his arse. Alexander worked a little of the spicy sauce into Wench’s cock slit. “It stings!” cried the lad as it seared the sensitive flesh.

“Ah yes, chilli seems to be one of the ingredients. That’ll burn a little but my, it’s tasty!” said Alexander, smacking his lips greedily. “In fact, now I think of it, I know someone who will really enjoy a little treat like this!”

Wench raised his head with a panicky premonition as Alexander left the room. The boy had no choice but to lie and wait for whatever humiliation he would be forced to endure next. He tugged at the bonds at his wrists, but it was hopeless. The domineering stranger was clearly too experienced in this kind of thing to give him the slightest chance of freeing himself. He wiggled his toes in their pink stockings, but they wouldn’t budge either. He looked down at the sticky mess covering his genitals, and the humiliating way his prick had been treated: just another sausage in a row, coated in the same jammy gunk.

Alexander left the lad there for half an hour or so to contemplate his predicament, and to allow the sausages to marinade properly in the tomato sauce. He ordered a tankard of ale and took his time over it, watching in barely concealed amusement as the desperate husband and wife tried to staunch the steady flow of customers leaving the inn, all the while issuing confident assurances that their shamed son would be back soon to provide them with further entertainment.

At long last, he decided to put Wench out of his misery. Alexander once again climbed up the winding staircase to the garret room. However, on this occasion, he did not go alone.

Wench heard the panting at the door first, and when it opened to readmit his saturnine tormentor, he was puzzled as to why Alexander had brought the family’s pet pooch with him. The eager mutt was straining at the leash, but the mongrel soon paused as his sensitive nostrils were assailed by the heady aroma of fresh, raw meat.

“What’s his name?” asked Alexander curtly.

“We call him Jasper. Jasper, Sir,” Wench replied.

“The poor creature looks half-starved.”

“Pa says he can eat well if and when we do, Sir.”

“I think we should do something to remedy that, don’t you, Wench?”

“What – what do you mean, Sir?”

“I reckon he deserves a reward for having to dwell with grasping misers like your parents. I think some juicy sausages would go down a treat, don’t you?”

The dawning horror of realisation spread across Wench’s face as Alexander’s intention sank in. He began to thrash weakly in his bondage, wailing “No! No, please, Sir! Not that!”

“Now don’t you be so selfish, boy,” he admonished. “Go, on, Jasper, there’s a good doggie!”

Alexander loosened his grip on the leash, and the excited animal leaped enthusiastically onto the first, tomato-coated sausage dangling over the end of the bed. Within moments it was gone, and Jasper’s sharp teeth began chomping down at the second meaty morsel.

“Please, Sir!” gibbered Wench in terror. “Please no! Please don’t let him bite my cock off!”

“And why on earth not?” asked Alexander innocently. “What possible purpose could a little serving-wench like you have for it? Far better for it to be put to good use!”

Two down, the slathering mongrel crawled his way further up the bed and set to work consuming the third sausage. Wench threw himself into a desperate frenzy, limbs flailing, as he tried to get free from the bondage into which Alexander had put him - but it was hopeless.

“Do you honestly think any man or woman on this sweet Earth will want to have that pathetic excuse for a prick shoved inside them?” Alexander pulled his own considerably larger cock from the waistband of his purple hose and began to stroke it firmly. “Pull your trousers down to show that embarrassment to anyone and they’ll laugh right in your face! Believe me, you’re better off without it!”

Jasper, tomato relish smeared over his face and whiskers, swallowed the final bites of the third sausage and, eyes rolling in delicious ecstasy, launched himself onto the fourth. The horrified lad looked down at his pet, to see the dog joyfully working his way with carefree abandon towards the vulnerable pale flesh of his cock.

With no hope of mercy from the insane traveller, the youth began to squeal commands at the animal instead. “Stop, Jasper! That’s enough! No more. Bad dog! Greedy dog!” But the mistreated animal, more used to kicks and blows from humans than love and affection, showed no intention of abandoning his feast. There was no evidence in his eyes that he understood for a moment Wench’s frantic orders, and if he did secretly understand them, there was no chance on earth of his obeying them.

Alexander gazed down, laughing openly at the hilarious sight, rubbing his cock as he watched the anguished writhing of the serving-lad. “Soon your dear Ma and Pa will have the little girl they always dreamed of,” he exclaimed as Jasper moved on to take a hungry bite out of the fifth sausage. “Just one more now, Wench! One more pork sausage remaining before your little doggie sinks his teeth into and gobbles up your very own precious meaty package!”

Wench was now sobbing in terror, incoherent with the horrific anticipation of emasculation at the jaws of the family pet. He knew it wasn’t much of a cock, but it was the only one he had!

He risked a final look. Jasper was onto the final pork sausage and now mere inches away from Wench’s own marinated wiener. The famished creature’s pace had not slowed once, and Wench screwed his eyes tightly shut as he prepared for his manhood to be cruelly snatched from him, and then suffer the indignity of disappearing down that mangy creature’s throat. He waited as he felt the first, slobbering licks of the animal’s tongue, the suggestions of sharp teeth pressing against his penis. Tensing every muscle of his body tight, he waited for the moment that Jasper would clamp down and puncture his tender skin, leaving him mutilated and deformed for the rest of his life. But, tantalisingly, still the strike refused to come. Instead, Jasper’s tongue seemed to be swirling round his defenceless prick, sucking on it, teasing it, squeezing it into semi-hardness. In utter astonishment at the dog’s behaviour, Wench risked opening one of his eyes and, in an instant, his sobs of anguish became ones of relief.

The mouth sucking his dick and the head hovering over his crotch belonged not to his dog, but to the tall, dark stranger. Jasper, meanwhile, was contentedly belching in the corner of the room, licking traces of tomato relish from his whiskers.

Alexander left off sucking Wench’s penis and looked into the lad’s red and tear-stained countenance.

“After those fine, plump, meaty sausages, do you really think a connoisseur like Jasper is remotely interested in a pathetic little winkle like yours?”

He really should have been on his way there and then, but the cringing lad was amusing, his own cock was hard again, and he wanted to unload another deposit of cum into Wench’s unwilling cavity. So, with the promise to the landlord of a second gold sovereign to match the first, Alexander stayed another night at the insalubrious tavern.

He decided he would head off in the morning, be at the coast by mid-afternoon, and then set sail for France and the safety and security of his family there, far away from the merciless clutches of Prince Felix.

Next morning dawned bright and clear. A newcomer pulled up outside the tavern and tethered his steed alongside the black mare grazing there already. A grim smile crossed the man’s face. He turned the door handle and, ducking to avoid banging his head on the lintel, made his way inside the hostelry. He shared a brief conversation with the publican, who directed him to a narrow back staircase.

The traveller climbed the stairs, his vast shoulders brushing the sides of the walls. At the very top, he gently turned the door handle and cautiously pushed against the door. He stepped into the room and exhaled with deep satisfaction. Finally, his quest was at an end. There, sleeping soundly in the morning sunshine, lay the traitor Alexander Courcey. A pale, skinny youth slept alongside him, his head resting on Courcey’s chest and his hand entangled in the older man’s black hair.

Advancing on the slumbering duo, the intruder drew his sword and gently placed it under Courcey’s chin. Alexander’s eyes flickered open with a start.

“Rise and shine, Master Courcey,” growled Odin. “It seems I’ve tracked you down at last. And not for the first time have I interrupted you molesting a boy in your bed. Although you seem to have lowered your ambitions somewhat since you attempted to ravish the Prince.”

Alexander lay completely still, and when he spoke, did so calmly and steadily. “Will you let the boy go? He’s done nothing wrong.”

In spite of himself, Odin was impressed by Alexander’s composure, but he merely said, “The Prince has no quarrel with whores. Wake him if you wish.”

Wench squealed in abject terror as he opened his eyes to see the evil-looking ogre towering above him, and did not have to be told twice to scram.

“Are you to stab me in my bed?” asked Alexander.

“That would be my personal preference, but I have instructions to return you to the North so that his Highness may administer a more lingering demise.”

“I recall that you yourself once suggested that for me rather than a short, sharp death.”

“You’ve given me plenty of time to regret making that suggestion over these past few weeks,” Odin snarled. “You’ve led me on a right royal goose chase. Now, you have thirty seconds to gather your belongings. Move!”

The publican and his wife clung together as their mysterious guest was marched at swordpoint out of the inn by the leather-clad giant. Wench stood trembling and naked, save for his pink stockings.

The landlady, glaring at her cowardly husband with contempt, followed Odin and Alexander out of the door. “Wait! Wait!” she screeched. “He owes us for an extra night! We’re due a gold sovereign!”

Odin, without pausing or even turning, pulled a coin from his pocket and tossed it on the ground. She pounced on it with alacrity. Another thought occurred her.

“And those sausages didn’t come cheap either!”

But she’d pushed her luck far enough. Odin bound Alexander’s wrists together, sat him on Fallow, and holding the reins of both his own and his captive’s horses, disappeared in a cloud of dust.

The landlady stamped her foot in frustration and, as her husband and her son arrived to join her on the pathway, she welcomed them with a fierce glare. Suddenly, there was a hissing, farting sound followed by a metallic tinkle as a small brass coin slipped from Wench’s arse and hit the ground.

With as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, the mistress of the house bent down to retrieve the slimy penny. “That’ll pay for the sausages,” she said as she wiped it clean on her pinafore and placed it decisively in her pocket. Jasper the mongrel gambolled up to the three of them, joyfully oblivious to the events occurring around him, and started lapping contentedly at the remnants of tomato relish still clinging to Wench’s naked arse.