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 53 - Stuffed in Scarlet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 50 - The Sleeping Beauty

“They’ve forgotten about us, haven’t they?! Those treasonous swine have locked us up and forgotten about us!”

The Prince’s voice practically screeched with incredulity.

“Given that if they remember us, they might choose to slit our throats,” remarked Raymond drily, “I’m actually rather glad to be forgotten.”

The past three days had seemed like an eternity for the curly-haired youth. Prince Felix was not, by any stretch of the imagination, the ideal cellmate. The two young men remained shackled to the dungeon walls in their dirty tights. They had been fed and watered, forced to use the latrine in the corner of the cell, and, unceremoniously, ignored.

The sound of the key in the lock heralded the arrival of their evening meal. The rugged Sir Antony ushered in skinny young Mortimer who carried a tray of greasy stew. Lumps of fatty mutton bobbed in the congealing liquid.

Prince Felix turned up his nose. “I’m not eating that,” he pronounced with a sniff.

“You are a prisoner of his Lordship,” Sir Antony informed him blandly, “and you will eat what you are given. If you want me to hold your nose and tip it down your throat, then so be it.”

Mortimer carried the tray over to the Prince, who begrudgingly took the moderately more appealing of the two bowls.

“No, Prince Felix,” said Sir Antony. “The Chief Steward informs me that you are to partake of the other one.”

Felix turned pale. “Ah, so it has come to this, has it? I am to be poisoned like some plague-infested rat?”

“Alexander has not taken me into his confidence, but I understand that Lord Geoffrey wants you to remain alive for the time being.”

The Prince looked at Sir Antony with defiance. “Give me the bowl. I would rather meet my maker than be subjected to the perverted whims of Alexander Courcey!”

Gagging as he did so, the Prince forced himself to eat the stew. His rumbling belly protested, and Antony smiled knowingly as the final dregs of the meal disappeared.

“Well done, your highness,” he said. “Now, we shall bid you a good night and the most pleasant of dreams...”

And with that, he and Mortimer left the prisoners alone.

It was a long and uncomfortable night for them both.

It seemed that Sir Antony’s assurances were true. Felix’s supper was not poisoned. Instead it had been laced with a powerful laxative, which meant the unfortunate Prince spent the whole night running back and forth to the latrine in the corner of the cell.

Raymond sighed as the Prince cursed the vile and traitorous Alexander. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Felix’s bowels seemed to calm a little, and Raymond fell into a fitful slumber.

It must have been late morning. Raymond’s ears pricked up as he heard the key being turned in the door of the dungeon. Sir Antony and Sir Dominic strode into the cell: knowing smirks illuminating their square jaws.

“Master Courcey has summoned the two of you to his chambers,” Sir Antony informed them.

Prince Felix groaned from the corner of the cell. “Tell him he’ll have to wait. I’m spent. I’ve not slept all night thanks to that foul stew he fed me.”

“It’s a summons, not a request, your Highness,” said Sir Dominic sardonically.

“He does want you cleaned up first though,” added Sir Antony.

“Really?” asked Raymond suspiciously.

“Indeed. Master Alexander is a sensitive man. Your current state would offend his delicate sense of smell...”

Reinstalled in his own luxurious chambers, Alexander was thoroughly at home once more. God, it felt good to be back where he truly belonged. The months of uncertainty, incarceration and fugitive flight were finally at an end, and he was in charge again. The past few days had been spent assisting Lord Geoffrey in re-establishing some kind of order after the chaos of the Prince’s rule. And now – finally – he could allow himself some leisure time.

He looked at the three corked bottles that sat before him on his oak dressing table. On this occasion, he had instructed the old witch to brew up a variety of potions, and to differentiate the three of them, affixed to each vial was a scrap of parchment indicating what would occur to whoever inhaled from each brew. The first read “To induce unconsciousness”; the second “To revivify”; and the last simply read “Lust”.

Of course, this final brew was one he had ordered from the old crone many times over the years. He toyed briefly with the idea of taking a draught of it now, and his cock, coiled and nestling expectantly in his purple hose, began to stiffen at the thought. His balls hung swollen and heavy with cum, and his tights bulged.

It had been nearly a week since he’d had any sexual release. He’d been working so hard that there had not even been time for a quick wank to relieve himself. How tempting to inhale the potion now and manipulate his prick through the sensous satin of his hosiery and leak his white man juice into the gusset of his tights... But instead he restrained himself. Ultimately, it would be sweeter to prolong his frustration. He had dreamed of this opportunity for a long time. And now it was nearly upon him, he was absolutely determined to make the most of it.

There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” he called, as he casually moved his beringed hand from his crotch.

“I have the prisoners, Master Alexander,” came Sir Antony’s voice.

“Excellent. Bring them in.”

The door swang open and Alexander turned to survey the newcomers. The strapping Sir Antony, broadsword in hand, entered: no attempt to conceal the grin upon his sunburnt features.

Behind him came Raymond. As per Alexander’s instructions, he had been cleaned up and was now a positive paradigm of perfumed spotlessness. His dark curls were glossy and sleek, his cheeks had been freshly shaved and he was now dressed in a fine grey doublet, slashed down the chest and sleeves to reveal rich black satin beneath. Naturally, the doublet rested above the waist, and from his hips to his feet he wore luxurious silver hose, his package a modest bulge. On his feet were black buckled pumps.

The chastened youth caught Alexander’s eye and tried to convey a mixture of subjugation and camaraderie, as if in that instant he hoped to undo the mischief he had caused and that the older man would both forgive and forget. Alexander returned the lad’s gaze, but he said nothing and his expression gave nothing away.

Behind Raymond, and as surely as the sun follows the moon, came his royal highness, the recently deposed Prince Felix of England. It was an apposite comparison, for the blond youth’s face blushed red with fury just as Raymond’s was pale. Like Raymond, Felix’s hair – falling as ever to his shoulders in golden waves – was freshly washed. His broad and well-muscled torso was adorned with a rich crimson doublet, heavy with gold brocade. And his bulging thighs and calves were encased in a bright red pair of tights. The hosiery had been ingeniously interwoven with golden thread so that the Prince’s impressive legs seemed to shimmer. The eye was inevitably drawn to the spot where lay the royal prick: for now an anonymous swelling in the stretchy fabric. Alexander itched to tell the Prince to turn round so he could drink in the sight of those perfectly peachy buttocks within the scarlet hose. He denied himself that particular joy for the time being.

The Prince padded in, soft suede boots on his feet, followed by Sir Dominic, who also carried his naked sword in his hand.

“Did they comply with your instructions?” asked Alexander.

“Pretty much,” replied Sir Antony. “His Highness whinged a little as he is wont to do. But they appreciated the opportunity to wash and clothe themselves.”

“Although,” added Sir Dominic with a grin, “I think the Prince slightly misunderstood and thought it meant he was being restored to his old position.”

Alexander gave an amused grunt as he watched the Prince seethe.

“You have served me admirably, my friends,” he said. “And you have my eternal gratitude. That will be all I require of you for now.”

The two knights looked a little crestfallen. “Will you be safe alone with the two of them?” asked Sir Antony.

“Have no fear. I can cope with two young pups like these. You may send a guard to wait outside my chamber door if you are truly concerned.”

The knights withdrew, their reluctance, Alexander felt quite sure, principally due to their expectation that they would at least witness, and perhaps even participate, in whatever debauched activity he had in mind for the Prince and his companion.

Felix flicked a glance to Raymond as the door slammed shut behind Antony and Dominic. Was this their opportunity to escape? Raymond responded with a barely perceptible shake of his head. The castle was crawling with Lord Geoffrey’s guards, and the two of them were hardly inconspicuous. How far did he think they would get?

“So, gentlemen,” purred Alexander, “after all this time, I finally have the two of you all to myself. How shall we pass the afternoon, I wonder? A game of backgammon perhaps? Or shall we take our horses and hunt in the forest? Would that amuse you, your highness?”

“I have nothing to say to you, you cur,” spat the Prince. “You will have your punishment both on earth and in heaven for the way you have treated me. And each outrage you commit against my royal person merely adds to the tally sheet.”

Alexander did not reply, but instead took a plain white handkerchief from the pouch on his belt and unstoppered the first of the witch’s potions. He doused the fabric liberally with the liquid and, quick as a flash, he was behind the Prince. He clasped the Prince’s body with one arm, and, with his free hand, he pressed the soaked handkerchief to the young man’s nose.

At once, Felix began to struggle.

“What evil is this?!” came his muffled cry.

“Mmm,” said Alexander. “I like to feel you struggle like that. Yes, you carry on. I’m grinding my hosed cock against the juicy, ample mounds of your bum. And every protesting move you make, tights against tights, serves only to turn me on and make my prick even harder!”

Raymond watched impotently as Felix, eyes bulging, writhed in the taller man’s crushing embrace. He could not help but be aroused at the sight of the beautiful Prince’s legs – looking as if they were painted scarlet so tight were his hose – thrashed and kicked. By rights, it should have been a more even struggle. Whilst Alexander was taller and leaner, Felix was more muscular and he was also a good fifteen years younger than Master Courcey.

“Breathe deeply, my pretty Prince Prick-tease!” whispered Alexander in Felix’s ear. “For soon you will sink into a dreamless slumber!”

The Prince’s eyes widened over the top of the handkerchief as, too late, he realised that he had no hope of escape whilst he inhaled its noxious fumes. He made one last-ditch effort to free himself from Alexander’s grip, a desperate wrenching lunge, and as he did so took a gulp of air. With that, the aroma finally overpowered him, and he slumped into Alexander’s arms.

“That’s it, boy, you have a nice sleep,” cooed the Steward as he cradled the Prince’s limp form against him. Smartly and efficiently, Alexander lifted the young man in his arms, his jewelled palm brushing against Felix’s shapely tights-clad thigh: and the feeling of hard muscle through the sensous, clinging fabric sent a thrill of lust through Alexander’s body.

He carried the unconscious Prince through into the bedchamber, pausing briefly to instruct Raymond: “Come with me.”

Nervous, but intrigued, Raymond did as he was told and stood obediently as Alexander carelessly let the comatose Adonis slip from his grasp and bounce onto the bed. The Steward took a moment to contemplate that Sleeping Beauty – scarlet legs akimbo – lying there entirely at his mercy.

For his part, Raymond could not help but be assailed by memories of this bedchamber. It was here, as a naive sixteen year old, that he, manacled and gagged, his tights pulled down to his ankles, had lost his virginity to Alexander. That occurrence had been repeated in every imaginable submissive permutation and humiliating position over the next few years, whilst the ambitious Raymond had consoled himself with the certainty that he might be the powerful man’s pet but at least he was his favourite pet.

This was the room where he had been put in charge of that conniving little upstart, Will, but also the place he had been cheated of his victory in the kinky ass-stuffing contest between him and the blond page boy, which had seen him banished to the vile Sir Wilfrid’s rooms. And of course – up until only a few days ago – these plushly furnished chambers had belonged to him. The chair in the corner still had its red velvet cushion, slightly smeared with the bananas Raymond had forced up Alexander’s ass. How far away that particular power play seemed now.

As if sensing Raymond’s thoughts, Alexander clicked his fingers at him.

“Strip his Highness of his doublet!”

Raymond knew better than to question an order, especially one issued in that tone of voice. He scurried to the bed and bent over the prone form of his former master, even as his new overlord planted a smart Slap! on his grey hosed buttocks.

“Get on with it, bitch. I don’t have much patience with you, you’ll be surprised to learn...”

Raymond’s mind raced as he fumbled at the finicky buttons on the Prince’s velvet doublet. How long did Alexander plan to keep Felix unconscious, and what precisely did he intend to do to him whilst he was in this condition? It was curious. Raymond had always thought that a big part of the turn on for his kinky master had been to provoke conflicting emotions in his submissive victims: the delicate contrast between sexual arousal and extreme humiliation. Would he achieve the same satisfaction if his sex slave were completely unaware of what was being done to him? He supposed all would be revealed soon enough.

Doublet removed, the Prince lay there on his back in peaceful oblivion, his smooth, muscled chest now naked and exposed.

“Take his boots off,” said Alexander curtly.

Raymond mumbled a “yes, Sir,” and hurried to the other end of the bed. A couple of tugs, and the suede boots were flung on the floor, leaving the Prince with his figure-hugging, glittering red tights as his sole remaining item of clothing.

Alexander looked at the dark haired youth. “There he lies, Raymond. Insensible and ignorant of what might happen to him. What shall we do with him, I wonder?”

Raymond hesitated. Was Alexander speaking rhetorically?

But Alexander clearly was not as unprepared as he had suggested. Reaching under the bed, he fetched various lengths of rope, and, moving swiftly, he tossed one rope across the Prince’s waist and fastened it securely beneath the bed. Then he attached two pieces of similar length to Felix’s wrists, and a further two were tied around his hosed ankles.

Alexander checked that the ropes were knotted well, and then he passed the end of each through the convenient metal rings that he had long ago screwed into the ceiling of his bedchamber. Then he stretched them along an ingenious pulley system, which left the free ends of each rope dangling in the air. For now, however, Alexander left the ropes hang slack.

He looked at Raymond and raised an eyebrow sardonically. “So, young Master StClare. Here we are. A fine situation, eh? And one I feel quite sure we have both been dreaming of for some time. That gorgeous peacock, Prince Felix, lies quite at our mercy. What are we to do with him?”

Raymond looked at the older man with incredulity. Was Alexander actually making him complicit and giving him permission to take advantage of the slumbering Prince? His heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, don’t get too excited, my lad,” chuckled Alexander. “It’s not like I’m going to let you fuck him or anything. You’ve really done nothing to earn that kind of reward. Far from it. But if you promise to do as you’re told, I might let you wank over him.”

Raymond hesitated.

“No it’s not a trick,” the Steward went on. “Slip off those leather pumps and climb onto the bed.”

Raymond did as he had been instructed, and, in his stockinged feet, clambered up onto the counterpane.

“Let’s see whether you can cum to order,” said Alexander, “and how good your aim is. Stand there, upright, one foot either side of our insensible young royal’s hosed hips. You have two minutes to orgasm. And I want to see your hot white jism spattering all over that broad chest and beautiful, chiselled face. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear, Sir,” said Raymond determinedly. His cock was already rock hard at the sight of the beautiful Prince lying knocked out at his feet.

Alexander made himself comfortable in a leather armchair. He picked up a small hourglass from the table next to him, and inverted it. “You may begin!”

With no time to lose, Raymond slipped his hand inside the waistband of his grey tights and began to pump away at his penis.

“Good lad,” purred Alexander, as he. “I bet that makes you feel really horny, doesn’t it? Standing proud and masterful in your tights, towering over that prime piece of royal meat. You could do anything to him now and he’d be completely clueless. He’s like a doll: a lifeless object for your pleasure. Wank fodder for you to use and abuse. Go on, unbutton that fine doublet of yours and play with your tits. I want you to get me excited too...”

Raymond did not need to be told twice. How long had he fantasised about dominating Prince Felix and wiping that arrogant smirk off his handsome face? He squeezed his pert nipple, sending a little thrill of pleasure and pain across his chest. He withdrew his hand from his hose briefly to spit into his palm, and then returned to his crotch, lubricating the cockhead and making it even more sensitive to his touch.

“Stick your bum out, boy!” commanded Alexander. “I need to see that hosed arse pushed out nice and far as you play with yourself, you dirty little slut.” Naturally, he too was fondling himself: his own cock thick and tumescent within the tight constriction of his purple leggings.

Raymond did as he was told, his breathing heavy and his face tense as he gave himself up entirely to lustful thoughts of dominating the Prince. He looked down at that perfect body, and imagined the ropes at Felix’s wrists and ankles stretched taut – the muscles straining under the stress, and the pain and agony etched onto the golden young man’s face.

“Half of your time gone already, boy,” observed Alexander. “I hope you’re coming close. There’ll be trouble if you don’t climax in time...”

However, there seemed little fear of that, as Raymond grunted and sweated with sexual ardour. Up and down the shaft of his cock went his fist, and precum began to leak into the grey fabric of his hose.

“Better get that cock out of your tights, slut. I want your cum spattered all over the Prince’s body.”

“Yes, Sir,” panted Raymond, pulling his tights down to below his balls.

Alexander watched eagerly. As the final grains of sand slipped into the lower bulb of the hourglass, Raymond’s legs tensed, his face screwed up. A pulsing stream of hot white semen sprayed from his cock.

Splat! Splat! Splat!

The Prince was unceremoniously anointed with his former servant’s jism. A big globule landed on Felix’s bare chest and began to slide towards his pink nipples. Another couple of blobs fell on his stomach, and then, as a second wave of Raymond’s cum erupted from his dick, a perfectly aimed emission descended onto the Prince’s face, dropping in a thick trail from his forehead, across his closed eye, full pouting lips, and dripped off his chin.

Alexander rose from his chair and nodded approvingly at the post-orgasmed Raymond, panting and red faced, cock softening in his palm. He looked down on the blissfully unaware Prince, now covered in hot wet cum, rapidly drying on that divine body.

“I think it is time for our Sleeping Beauty to awaken...”