Chapter 64 - A Champagne Celebration

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open wide, slut.”

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

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

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

“Yes, Sir, please, Sir,” he incanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will gazed up woozily and watched Alexander uncork the bottle.

“Let’s get it nice and fizzy, eh?”

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

“Here we go…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open wide, boy! Take a good swig!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will could hardly imagine anything more devastating - and tantalising.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your quest was successful then, my friend.”

Sir Geoffrey smiled benignly at his Steward.

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

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

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

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

“My Lord.” Alexander bowed deeply.

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

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

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

Chapter 60 - The Pear Pops

 

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

Chapter 54 - A Humiliating Evacuation

The autumn sun was warm in the monastery grounds. There, many miles away from the kinky goings-on in Alexander Courcey’s bedchamber, Will worked industriously at the cabbage patch. The kindly Brother Ralf had, to Will’s relief, decreed that whilst the thin gossamer blouse he had been made to wear might be suitable for indoors, he would need sturdier garments for working in the fields. So his broad young shoulders and muscular thighs were, temporarily at least, clad in coarse hessian and linen.

The cruel steel of the cock cage was a permanent torment to him, but he found that if he threw himself into his physical labour during the day, he would be so exhausted that sleep came quickly. Nevertheless, the torture of being unable to ejaculate for all these months weighed heavily on him. Many was the time that he felt he could have cried with frustration, and he cursed Raymond bitterly.

He made sure to keep out of the Abbot’s way as much as possible. This was a relatively straightforward task. The Abbot was frequently absent from the monastery, visiting and being entertained by the various merchants and landowners in the area. When he was there, he would usually lay in bed till late morning and then, after his gargantuan midday meal, retired to his chambers for silent contemplation. (Though the snoring emanating from the window belied his true activity.)

Will was perfectly happy with this arrangement. He well remembered the lustful glint in the Abbot’s eye the day he had stripped him, and, in spite of good Brother Ralf’s assurances on the unimpeachability of the Abbot’s character, Will remained unconvinced.

Will wiped the sweat from his brow, and, having pulled another leafy cabbage from the ground, he was suddenly aware as a shadow fell across him. Will looked up - straight into the handsome face of a tall novice monk. Will recognised him instantly - his dark hair and chiselled jaw made him look more like a knight from a romance novel, and he looked most incongruous in his religious garb. The monk smiled and his full lips parted to reveal a dazzling set of sparkling white teeth.

“I have been wanting to say hello,” he said, and his voice was rich and warm. “I am Brother Henry, but my friends call me Hal.”

He offered his hand for Will to shake. 

Will, conscious of the dirt smeared across his palm, did his best to wipe it on his smock.

“Will,” he said simply. “I am Will.”

The two young men - one tall and dark, one short and fair - regarded one another for a moment.

“I must go,” said Hal with a slight shake of his head. “I have my prayers to attend to.”

Will watched him return to the abbey, confusion in his heart - and a warm tingling in his crotch.

Back at the castle bedchamber, Alexander worked swiftly. He knew that the Prince’s ass was now crammed so full of sweeties that no amount of willpower or muscle control could keep them inside for long. The question was not if but when that gorgeous golden body rebelled and expelled all that nasty gunk into Felix’s shimmering crimson hose.

The Prince was impotent as Alexander pulled up the waistband of the scarlet tights so that once again they encased his beautiful royal bum and then released the cords that bound his wrists and ankles. Then the rope around the Prince’s bulging belly was untied. How Felix wished he could flee: escape the excruciating and humiliating torture! However, at the moment, any sudden movements would undoubtedly result in a spasm deep in his bowels, meaning his cargo of mushed up, sweet, sticky gunge would be unceremoniously deposited into his hose. Even now, he still had his pride, and the prospect of escaping through the mocking throng of courtiers and palace servants - at his beck and call mere hours ago - whilst shitting cream and chocolate into his tights was more than he could bear.

Besides, Alexander was taking no chances. The bottle of potion was forced under Felix’s nose, so that the world swam before him once more, leaving him with neither the ability nor the will to escape. The lust rose in him like sap in a tree and in spite of himself, he found his cock hardening in his spangly red tights. Then in a suddenly unexpected movement, Alexander rolled his royal victim off the bed. Woozy, confused and distressed, the Prince, tumbled to the floor. 

“Get up, my slutty princeling!” snapped Alexander. “Let me see you waddle round the room in your tights for my amusement.”

Felix - his head swimming - crawled to his feet, focused solely on the desperate urge to squeeze his asshole tight. My, but it was a hell of a task! The slightest motion set off a gurgling in his distended belly, and the waves of cramping became more frequent and more urgent.

He clenched his jaw tight in the hope that screwing up all his muscles would give him the strength he needed. Then he panted, his breathing coming quick and fast with the exertion.

“Oooh, poor baby boy,” cooed Alexander. “You’re working so hard to keep from crapping yourself, aren’t you? The effort it must be taking. The desperation! How humiliating for you. Having your arse stuffed with goodies and then needing to keep them all inside you. You must want nothing more than the blessed relief of allowing your bowels to open and evacuate all that nasty gunk. But you know the price if you do - the shameful act of soiling those lovely tights of yours. And who knows how long a cruel master like I might keep you in that degraded and dirty state, eh? Now, you heard me, my slave boy. I want to see you waddling. But be careful. Move too suddenly and you will almost certainly have an accident. And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

Gingerly, Felix spread his legs wide, his muscles aching from being stretched in their rope bondage. The hardness of his cock, straining and prodding against the silken red fabric of his hose, clinging indecently to him, tingled with heat. 

“Sway your hips, bitch. Let me see that ass wiggle. Ooh your bum looks so tight! Like sculpted marble and so enticing with that thin veneer of red material to clothe it, albeit only barely.”

In spite of himself, the Prince found himself unable to disobey the hypnotic taunting of the older man. Nearby, Raymond licked his lips, as Felix stuck his arse out like a common whore, writhing and undulating. The strong thigh muscles, encased in the luxurious hosiery, bunching as he lifted first one foot and then the other for his new master’s delight.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” gasped the Prince suddenly as a fresh wave of cramps - the most severe yet - threatened to broach the fragile dam of his tender arsehole.

“Don’t you fucking dare shit yourself, boy!” commanded Alexander. “You squeeze that hole as if your life depended on it! Who knows? Maybe it does.”

The Prince’s face went even redder with the exertion, and tears welled in his eyes as he screwed up his proud and noble features as part of this debasing challenge.

“I can’t hold on much longer!” he wailed in anguish. “Can’t you see? I’m desperate!”

“You impudent brat!” declared Alexander. “I can see the thrashing your godfather gave you has taught you no lesson at all. It seems I must administer another spanking to that royal arse of yours!”

With lightning speed, Alexander’s arm encircled the Prince’s slender waist, and before he knew what happened, the golden young man was tipped over the Steward’s lap, his head dangling and the toes of his red-hosed feet pointing at the ceiling. This position was even more dangerous for someone in Felix’s predicament: the pressure on his swollen belly as it rested on Alexander’s hose-clad thigh served only to intensify his desperation. 

Alexander slipped his hand between the Prince’s stomach and his own leg, and prodded it with his finger. “No, please, no!” hissed Felix.

“Ah,” murmured Alexander. “Finally you have learned some manners. We progress. Slowly, but nevertheless… Clearly a well-stocked arsechute is conducive to your temperament, your highness.”

The Steward’s hand continued to roam over Felix’s vulnerable body. “And your royal cock is still fully erect in your tights. Good. I’m glad that your humiliation turns you on as much as it does I. My own purple-covered prick is pressing into your side as I speak. It is so delightful to feel your sweating, straining, muscle-bound body, writhing and wriggling across my lap…”

Alexander squeezed the Prince’s package, before moving his attention to the twin rotundity of Felix’s ass cheeks. He bent down to whisper in the Prince’s ear.

“Soon we shall have the flesh of your buttocks as red as the tights that cover them. How do you like the sound of that, my Lord?”

A couple of gentle slaps to begin with, as Alexander merely enjoyed the sensation of being able to warm his palms on the Prince’s perfect butt cheeks, before he moved on a firmer spanking.

Felix grunted and gasped, trying desperately not to allow the new sensation of the spanking distract him from his primary aim of keeping his cargo of cream, chocolate, pastry and sugar within him. He knew at some point he must lose the battle. His body was simply not designed to retain this colossal amount. Every fibre and nerve seemed to scream for him to release, and only his willpower and his poor, abused arsehole resisted the terrible urge.

“Aarrgh!” screamed the Prince as yet another wave of pain struck his guts. “Let - me - use - the - latrine, you bastard!”

But Alexander merely tutted and spanked the Prince’s tush even harder. “Such bad manners, your highness. And you were doing so well…”

The older man could feel Felix’s body tensing and convulsing beneath him. He was impressed. He really had not expected the Prince to be able to last so long. Felix prided himself on his virginity and so his arsehole was totally inexperienced and untrained. Perhaps that explained it, Alexander mused to himself, his sphincter was so tight it was able to work more efficiently than many slave sluts he had abused. Glancing grimly at Raymond, he doubted whether the page boy could have lasted so long.

However, the end to the little game must come soon. The profiteroles and marshmallows would have melted completely by now from the heat of the young man’s insides. And that chocolatey, sugary enema would be irritating in the extreme.

“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!” cried the Prince. His asshole had been squeezed so tight for so long that it had become almost numb to any sensation, so the first realisation he had that the barrier had been broached was the dampness between his legs. 

“Oh yes, my Lord,” cooed Alexander, as, fascinated, he watched the chocolatey trickle dribbling from the Prince’s pulsing hole, staining the fine scarlet gusset of his tights. “You have succumbed at last, I see. What a dirty little boy you are…”

His spirit broken, something else in Prince Felix seemed to give as well, and the small trickle went on. “Oh God, oh sweet Lord,” he gibbered in a combination of despair and relief. There was no point in holding back now, and when the next painful cramp hit his belly, Felix did not resist, and, sobbing now from the sheer humiliation of his predicament, he gave in to the momentary pleasure of forcing the hateful concoction out of his long-suffering body.

A loud, squelching fart accompanied the expulsion, and even Alexander was a little taken aback by the power and the velocity of the gunk that shot from between the Prince’s butt cheeks and filled the back of his tights. 

“Why, you filthy little bitch!” he declared. “You’ve soiled yourself and more importantly, you’ve soiled my fine palm as I spank you! Get up off my lap. I’ve no desire for you to dirty my beautiful clean tights as you have defiled your own!”

On tottering feet, Felix clambered off his master’s lap, his arse belching forth another wave of effluent as he did so. The sugary liquid began to run in meandering rivulets down his crimson legs, even as the bulk of the residue remained lodged stubbornly in the seat of his hose. The pastry shells of the profiteroles had resisted total disintegration. He wanted nothing more than to be able to pull down his scarlet tights and rid himself of the soggy burden lying there, but it remained a damp and heavy reminder of his humiliation.

The tears flowed freely now. It was all too awful for any other response. The Crown Prince of England, stripped only to his tights, wave after wave of glutinous liquid erupting from his tender arsehole, flooding and fouling his hose and himself.

“You may well sob like a baby, young Felix. For that is what you have been reduced to. A bawling infant, with no control over his bowels. Shitting himself in my presence!”
Alexander drank in the sight before him, savouring his victory over this, his long-standing nemesis. “Look at what you are reduced to. The Prince of England stripped to the waist, emptying his sugary enema into his tights! How excruciating for you this must feel!”

Quick as a flash, Alexander’s palm was clamped over the Prince’s mouth, and the evil potion was once more forced under Felix’s nose. With no option but to inhale its fumes once more, Felix soon succumbed again to its arousing effects. He swayed from side to side, desperately aware of the rapidly cooling bulk in the seat of his hose. He dared not look down to see the disgusting and degraded creature he had become. And as Alexander continued to taunt him, the potion worked its magic and he found the humiliation turning him once more.

Alexander glanced at his own palm, streaked with chocolate, and grimaced. “You filthy brat,” he murmured, and he wiped his hand across the Prince’s chiselled features and down his sculptured torso, smearing the melted gunk across his victim. He lingered at the Prince’s crotch, where that beautifully proportioned prick pressed urgently against the tight red constriction of the hosiery. Felix hated himself for it, but he could not resist pushing his erection into Alexander’s hand. He told himself it was the potion, but broken shell that he was, he could no longer tell. All he knew was that he desperately wanted Alexander to jerk his cock through the silky softness of his tights. He whimpered with a lust he didn't understand.

“So our dirty baby bitch is horny, eh? It seems that you crave the humiliation of being a tights slave after all. Having your arse filled and then emptying it into your hose. But you are a naughty, disobedient little bitch aren't you? Did I not order you not to release your load until I gave you express permission? Very well. For the entertainment you have afforded me, I am going to show you some mercy. Though Lord knows you do not deserve it for the pathetic lack of self-control you have exhibited here. But I will show you that it is good for a master to show kindness to his subservients. Go over to the corner. Right there, in front of the mirror.”

He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, his reactions blurred by the sex potion. Fearful of what would happen to him if he disobeyed, Felix stumbled over to the mirror, his arse clammy from the clagging gunge lying in his tights.

“Have a good look, my tights bitch!”

The Prince bit his lower lip as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. What a sorry specimen he looked! His handsome features were flushed from the effects of the potion, and smeared with chocolate. The stain spread down his well-proportioned pectoral muscles, down to where the top of his crimson hose clung to his waist. His pretty cock pointed to the ceiling and bulged hard inside the contour-hugging fabric of the tights. His posture accentuated the strong, shapely muscles of his thighs and calves: legs were bent, ass pushed out, to try and keep the horrible gunge as far from his skin as he could.

“Turn around and see what that gorgeous bum of yours looks like now,” taunted Alexander.

Gingerly, fearful of what he would see, Felix did as he was ordered. His gaze could not avoid being drawn to the bulging mess at the seat of his tights: a brown, blossoming stain of chocolate, marshmallows, cream and pastries. How he wished he could plunge into a warm bath and rid himself of the demeaning evidence of Alexander’s repulsive enema game.

“What a filthy little maggot you are, eh? All those sweet goodies warmed inside your ass and now clinging to you inside the kinky confines of your hosiery! How does that make you feel, your Highness?”

“It’s filthy… disgusting…” mumbled the humiliated young man. “To have my arse packed with food and then made to expel it all into my tights. How dare you…”

“Oh I dare, all right. Now - I want to see you sit down in all that gunk.”

“No, please…”

“A fine time for you to learn some manners. But it is too little, too late, slut Prince. Don’t keep me waiting, boy. Sit!”

Felix screwed up his gorgeous features in anticipation, as he lowered himself to the ground, and he gulped in fresh distaste as his ass made contact with the floorboards. The gooey mess made a squelching sound as it was pushed around the crotch and gusset of his ruined hose, forced back into the crack between his arse cheeks and up in front now to coat his balls with the chocolatey gunk.

“Is Baby Felix going to cry?” mocked Alexander. “Ah boo-hoo! First he poops himself and now he cries like the little baby bitch he truly is as he is forced to sit cross-legged in his own mess…”

Suddenly the Prince felt his golden hair grabbed by Alexander’s cruel fist, and once more, the noxious fumes of the magic potion went up his nose and into his body.

In spite of himself, a fresh wave of lust flooded through the Prince, and he heard Alexander’s words as if from far away:

“Now, wiggle that ass, boy so that you slip and slide around in all that gunge! That’s right. Now, bounce. Bounce up and down on the floor in your dirty tights. Good bitch, doing your Master’s bidding! You please me at last!”
Raymond observed in a shadowy corner, fascinated as, the Prince, his willpower seemingly neutralised by the evil potion, did as he was ordered, and, like a mere toy, bounced and squelched in his soiled hose, crying freely now like a baby. How he wished he were free to slip a surreptitious hand inside his own tights and begin to jerk his cock, but annoyingly his hands remained cuffed behind his back. He was deeply aroused to see his former master reduced to this degraded condition, he could only hope that Alexander would continue to allow him to observe the spectacle.

“All that claggy gunk must be feeling really nasty against your private parts, eh? So dirty. And yet that cock of yours still strains for release. I think that would be the ultimate humiliation now, don’t you? Sitting stewing in that sticky mess for my entertainment and wanking yourself off into your soiled tights?”

His head swimming from the erotic brew, Felix’s face was a mask of conflicting desires. He had been brought up to believe that his semen was holy, not to be spilled or wasted. He had spent his life denying his libido, waiting for the day when the most physically and mentally perfect vessel in the world - his bride to be - would receive his God-given sperm and conceive their child. And now to spill it in this debauched scene for the benefit of his hated enemy. He would not. He could not!

And yet, and yet… He found himself controlled by a deeper, darker power. His prick twitched and convulsed at the prospect of achieving orgasm and spilling his white creamy seed into the front of his tights. However he might fight it, his brain in this instant was controlled only by his sexual urges. In spite of himself, he found his hand straying to his crotch.

“That’s it, you filthy little whore. You know you want it. Yes - pull open the waistband of your sodden tights and reach inside. Aw, your pretty little pecker is quite, quite desperate, no? Mmm, yes carry on squirming, feeling all that gunk around your arse and bollocks. Slipping into your most intimate crevices. And now - you start to jerk that dirty slave cock of yours. Feels good, doesn’t it? Oh yes. See what I have reduced you to. My bitch boy. Scrabbling around on the floor in his gunge-filled tights, tugging desperately at his prick…”

The potion overwhelmed the Prince. He could not tear his eyes from his reflection: the sight of what he had become. From the gorgeously primped and coiffured royal, to this sweating, grunting pig, his tights slick with cream and melted marshmallows, only recently evacuated from his own arse. Alexander’s jeering taunts rang in his ears, and he realised just how much the very sight of him was turning on his most hated foe.

Here he was: this godlike specimen, reduced to humping into his own palm, his powerful thigh muscles bunching in the clinging fabric of his hose, his golden body naked save for the thin sheen of crimson.

Raymond was aroused. Alexander was doubly so, and as he crowed over the defeated young man, he freed his coiled serpent from the constriction of his purple tights.

“Come now, Prince Slut. Enough delay. I want to see you cum. I want to see your pretty Prince cock emptying itself into the crotch of your tights. Squirm, bitch. Bounce your pert little bottom in that dirty hose! Do it! Cum for your Master! Faster! Faster! Pound that cock in your fist! Fill your tights with your jism! Now!!”

Felix’s breathing quickened. His hand worked quicker, slicked up with cream that lubricated his cock. His balls ached desperately, and he closed his eyes in the agony of suspense. And then - it came. His eyes rolled up in his head, his body went rigid, and wave after wave after wave of hot semen shot in the air. And at that precise moment, a fresh stream of cum came from nowhere to hit him smack in the face. White ribbons draped themselves across his blue eyes and full pink lips, as Alexander anointed him with his own triumphant waves of ecstasy.

Silence hung in the air. Eventually Felix’s body ceased its juddering orgasm. He stared back at his pitiful reflection in the mirror: this sweating, cum-streaked, gunged-up, tights-clad sex slave and let out a desperate shriek of anguish: “Nooooo!!!”

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...