Chapter 57 - Sin on a Stool

“You seem quiet this morning, young Will,” smiled Brother Ralf. “Something on your mind?”


There was indeed. And it was principally the handsome face and muscled body of Hal the novice monk. He’d cum four times in the night thinking of him. And no good would come of falling in love with a man destined for the monastery. “You’ve been very kind to me, Brother Ralf but I can’t stay here forever. I think it is time I went on my way.”


“Is that safe?” enquired the monk. “That villainous robber may yet be lurking.”


“I can’t hide forever,” shrugged Will. “And it is time I took charge of my own life.” He did not tell Ralf that at the moment, he felt more nervous about being under the same roof as the sweaty and lascivious Abbot than whether Ebony and his gang of ruffians were nearby.


“Well we’ll miss you, that’s for sure. You’re a good lad. And a hard worker. If ever you need us, we’ll be here for you.”






Will had no belongings of course. The kindly Brother Ralf had packed him some provisions, but other than the hessian trousers and linen shirt on his back, he would be travelling light. He intended to slip away quietly from the monastery, too ashamed to look at any of the young novices after the humiliating lesson he had been exhibited in. And as much as he yearned for a final glimpse of Hal, he decided it would be wiser to do without.


However, as so often before in Will’s young life, fate was to intervene.


Just as his hand came to rest on the handle of the monastery door, he felt another’s hand on his shoulder.


“Surely you’re not leaving us so soon?” hissed the sibilant voice of the Abbot.


Will shrank away but the fat cleric was stronger than he looked. “I thought you’d be pleased,” Will stammered. “After what you said about me. You said I was possessed by the devil. Why would you want me under the same roof as holy men?”


“Ah, my poor boy! The Lord moves in most mysterious ways! Why, I wish to purge you of the demons that torment you, my son, can’t you see?”


“That’s very kind of you, I’m sure, but”-


“It seems you are determined to go,” sighed the Abbot. “At least permit me to give you a blessing before you set off.”


The fat man smiled his oily smile.


Now it was Will’s turn to sigh. “Very well,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”






They were in the Abbot’s private chambers once more. The same place where Will had submitted to the peculiarly invasive physical examination that the fat cleric had insisted upon. The Abbot smiled again his sickly smile.


“Come, lad, and kneel before me.”


Will did so a little hesitantly - bemused by the absence of religious ranting compared to the Abbot’s classroom lecture.


“Now, lift your arms above your head, boy.”


Again Will did as he was told, and he was not entirely surprised as the Abbot lifted the his thin blouse over his head to expose his smooth, bare chest.


An involuntary gasp escaped the Abbot’s saliva-coated lips as he turned to fetch a phial of holy water from the cabinet behind him. As he began to pour the fluid onto Will’s scalp, he murmured an incomprehensible Latin prayer, making the sign of the cross above Will’s head.


“And now, boy, you are free to leave.”


Will wiped his wet forehead, unsure of the exact etiquette of dealing with holy water. He nodded to the Abbot, rose to his feet and headed to the door.


“Just one thing more!” cooed the holy man. “I should really inspect that chastity device at your groin before you go. It would be most unfortunate if it became infected in any way…”


Will might have known his departure would not be quite so simple. And what was he to do now? How would he explain that his cock had finally been freed from its cruel cage? And worse, would the Abbot want to touch his dick now that it was free?


“Why so coy, lad? It’s not the first time I’ve inspected you after all…”


“It’s alright, your Worship. I’m fine. Thank you for your blessing.”


Will backed away from the sweating Abbot.


“Oh no, boy. That won’t do at all! In fact, I insist!”


And in one rapid movement, the Abbot tugged at Will’s rough trousers and pulled them down to his ankles. Will gasped in surprise - and his cock, so recently free from its months of imprisonment, bobbed automatically into semi-hardness.


The Abbot was triumphant. “So it is indeed true!” he crowed. “Your wicked lustfulness has infected this holiest of places! And you have even led astray one of my dear sons, you sinful succubus!”


The fat man waddled over to the confessional box in the corner of his chamber, and opened the wooden door. “Come out, young novice. And face the creature that has tempted you so…”


Will’s stomach gave a little leap as Hal stepped reluctantly from the cubicle.


“What’s going on?” Will asked.


“Allow me to explain, you young minx! Novice Henry here came to me for confession this morning and admitted to having lustful thoughts. I had hoped my boys here would draw on the Lord’s strength and resist the temptation that you have brought into our home. But it seems I need to take more direct action.”


The Abbot moved more swiftly than Will anticipated, and before he really knew what was happening, the Abbot had looped a string of rosary beads around Will’s wrists and tied his arms behind his back. A second string was tied around his neck.


“What are you doing?” Will cried.


“I do not have to explain myself to you, you spawn of Satan!” declared the Abbot, as he shoved Will in the small of his back. Will stumbled forwards, his feet becoming free of his trousers as he did so. He was now naked, and his damned cock - neglected for so long - stiffened even further in spite of himself.


“See this animal!” spat the Abbot, quivering fervently. “He is consumed by sexual appetites!”


Will gazed into the anguished face of the handsome Hal. The demons he was battling seemed to be internal ones.


The Abbot waddled over to a cabinet and fumbled with a key. As he unlocked the door, Will thought he could glimpse an array of items and implements that would look more at home in the castle dungeon than in the private belongings of a man of God. The Abbot snatched a small wooden stool from his closet and placed it in the centre of the room. Both Hal and Will gawped in surprise. In the middle of the seat, a smooth wooden pole, some seven or eight inches in length pointed to the ceiling. Will did not have time to question exactly why the Abbot should posses such an item, but he had a horrible feeling that he was about to become rather intimately acquainted with it.


Sure enough, the Abbot grabbed the rosary beads encircling Will’s neck, and dragged him over to the stool. Will struggled, but the fat man had weight on his side and was stronger than he looked. “We will subdue you, demon!” he muttered manically.


“You’re mad!” cried Will. “Let me go!”


He struggled to free himself from the Abbot’s sweaty embrace and recoiled from the fat man’s greasy palms.


“You cannot escape from me, devil! I have the Lord on my side. Now - knee before the altar!”


Will found himself forced to his knees in front of the draped table, and the possessed Abbot pushed down his head so that his forehead rested on the floor. The fat man held Will in position, Will’s naked arse pointing vulnerably towards the ceiling. Suddenly Will felt the Abbot’s sausage like fingers fumbling at his arsehole, depositing an oily gunk around his puckered orifice. The Abbot was working himself up into a frenzy, and began pushing his fingers into Will’s backside.


Will began to breathe deeply. How long had it had been since his arse had been probed like that? Of course at the castle it had been a daily occurrence. Indeed, most of the time it had been stuffed with a large leather dong, and the moments of respite when his hole had been empty had been few and far between. Since his expulsion from the castle’s walls, his anus had been brutalised on more than one occasion by the monstrous Lunk and his cronies, and his beer enema at the hands of the sadistic robber, Ebony, rated as a particularly memorable experience. However, his weeks in residence at the abbey had given his poor bottom some much needed relief. Nevertheless, as the Abbot pushed and pried at that most private part of his anatomy, a weird sensation began to rise in him. Had his arse actually missed all that attention? Was it indeed possible that he secretly yearned for his hole to be plugged once more?


He was afforded little time to wonder. Soon the sweating cleric had hefted him onto his feet and positioned him over the stool, Will’s lubricated asshole hovering above the wooden pole.


“You will be restrained, devil!” frothed the Abbot. “Your wickedness is no match for me!”


“No! Stop! Please! Let me go!” begged Will. But his protests were in vain. The religious mania gripping the Abbot seemed to give him an almost superhuman strength.


“Down you go!” he insisted, pressing on Will’s shoulders. “I have coated this pole with holy oils. That should subdue the devil inside you!”


Will tried to resist by bracing his legs, but the Abbot had spilled oil onto the floor, and Will’s heels gave way on the slippery surface. The fat monk took advantage of Will’s lack of balance by plunging him downwards, impaling him on the wooden dildo.


“Ah! Ah! Ah!’ Will gasped as the entire length of the pole entered him and pressed bluntly against the nub of his prostate.


The Abbot wasted no time in tying a cord around Will’s slim waist, which he then knotted underneath the wooden seat. Will tried to raise his naked torso from the invasive wooden phallus but it was stuck fast. He glanced over to see Hal standing miserably against the wall. Will tried to process the surprising news that Hal had been entertaining lustful thoughts about him, and then realised with shame, that the young novice could not help but see that Will’s pretty little cock was throbbing at his groin. Will’s body had betrayed him. It seemed he did yearn for his arse to be probed after all. Nor had this escaped the Abbot.


“Now we see why you had to be kept in that chastity device!” the Abbot shrieked, his eyes bulging. “Your perversions are truly foul to behold!”


Will blushed a deep shade of red at being humiliated so comprehensively in front of his new-found friend. How had it happened that in this last year and a half, he had turned into a slut boy whose cock sprang into action the moment his arse was plugged?


“Brother Henry!” declared the Abbot. “You must confront your base desires. I order you to approach this whorish demon!”


Hal shook his head from side to side, his glossy black hair swishing as he did so. But he dared not ignore a direct command from his superior. Tentatively he walked towards Will.


“Remove your robes!” the Abbot continued. “You must be naked to receive true absolution.”


It crossed Will’s mind that the Abbot had an unorthodox approach to sinfulness - and one which appeared to involve young men stripping off their clothing as regularly as possible. But Hal seemed not to question the command, loosening the leather belt at his waist, and allowing his plain brown robe to fall to the floor. He stepped out of his sandals and took another step to where Will sat impaled on the three-legged stool.


Will gulped as he saw Hal’s naked body for the first time: the familiar square jaw and dimpled chin, his long, honey-coloured neck, the Adam’s apple bobbing nervously; broad shoulders; firm slabs of pectoral muscles and strong, bulging biceps; smoothly chiselled abdominal muscles leading down to a little dark fuzz at his crotch where a long, veiny cock with a large mushroom-shaped head that pulsed, erect and proud. Hal’s legs were long and his quad muscles were like slabs of ham, his calves equally shapely. Even in his current predicament, Will could not help but conjure how those amazing legs would look encased in some of Master Yorick’s finest hosiery, caressing the masculine contours, and disappearing deep into the crack of that ass.


He was afforded no further time for such contemplation however, as Hal had reached him. Indeed, his straining man-meat was mere inches from Will’s flushed face. The two young men were breathing deeply: lustful sweat beaded on their torsos and in their armpits.


When the Abbot spoke, his voice sounded strangulated with unfulfilled lust: “Do it, Brother Henry. It is the only way to rid yourself of these devils which afflict you. Touch this diabolical imp! Do to him all that you desire!”


Hal did not need to be told twice. He knelt on the hard wooden floorboards, and gently cupped Will’s face between his hands. He gazed deep into Will’s big, brown eyes and lightly brushed his lips against the younger boy’s. It was a simple action, but Will’s cock pulsed at the tenderness of the touch. Almost immediately, Hal kissed him again - this time more firmly, holding Will’s mouth in place, and tentatively pushing the tip of his tongue between Will’s generous lips. For his part, Will could not help respond.


“Yes! Yes!” crowed the Abbot. “Kiss those devilish lips. Push your tongue into that diabolical mouth! Own and possess the little slut, Brother Henry!”


Hal needed little encouragement. However long he had been denying his own sexual urges Will could not know, but now he was being encouraged, nay commanded, to give them free rein, the explosion of sexual urgency was undeniable. Hal’s long, probing tongue pushed deep into Will’s mouth, and Will could only respond in kind. Their tongues swirled around each other in an erotic dance, their naked chests heaving, both of them emitting muffled grunts of ecstasy.


Even now, Hal seemed reluctant to touch any other part of Will’s tight little body, but in that moment, Hal felt his hands being guided onto Will’s pink nipples.


“Touch his tits,” intoned the Abbot in Hal’s ear. “Do it! Squeeze them, pinch them, lick and bite them till the little slut moans!”


The helpless Hal did as he was bidden, bending his dark head forward to suck desperately at Will’s nubs. Will shifted ecstatically, the prodding wooden dildo finding new pressure points deep within him, and he threw his head back as Hal’s mouth worked over his sensitive nipples.


“Now the ultimate in perversion!” the Abbot shrieked. “Take the slut’s erection into your mouth! Do it, Brother Henry! Do it and abase yourself before the Lord!!”


Will’s cock was already leaking precum freely, and, as much as he prepared himself for the sensation of Hal’s soft lips on the sensitive head of his dick, he could not anticipate that glorious touch. Novice monk he may be, but Hal displayed no signs of inexperience when it came to sucking cock. He fell to it as if he had spent his life working the alleys of Dunchester, fellating the sexually frustrated labourers before they returned to the dull drudgery of their marriage beds.


He took Will’s pulsing prick deep into his throat, massaging the engorged flesh with his strong tongue. He buried his face deep in Will’s groin, slobbering, sucking and licking at Will’s recently liberated tool.


“You disgusting perverts! See how you befoul this holy place!” screamed the Abbot, as the two young men gasped and groaned: more animal than human.


Will felt the steady building of an oncoming climax stirring in his balls. “No, not yet. Not yet,” he pleaded.


Hal understood and withdrew his mouth from Will’s straining cock, returning to kiss him again, deeply and desperately.


“Begone, demons!” howled the Abbot, and as he did so, Will felt a splash of oily liquid hit him in the face. He opened his eyes to see the Abbot dancing around the two youths, spattering them with fluid from a large clay jug.


“With this holy oil, I abjure thee!” raved the obese holy man.


Ropes of the fragrant unguent spattered over the naked flesh of the young men, oiling their muscles and lubricating the frenzied contact between them. Will was desperate to touch Hal’s body: to feel those straining muscles and sweating flesh for himself. He struggled against the cord tying his hands behind his back, and somehow managed to free his wrists. Once he had done so, his hands were all over Hal’s athletic chest, groping, massaging, stroking, desperately wanting to reciprocate the welter of sexual gratification that Hal had aroused in him.


And then the ultimate prize: Will touched Hal’s rock-hard cock. How he wished this beautiful prick was deep inside his arse right now, instead of the cruelly indifferent wooden phallus. The oil continued to rain down on the two of them, making everything slippery and wet. Will’s fist clenched around the long shaft of Hal’s dick and began to move up and down, causing Hal to groan in sheer ecstasy.


Will reached forward as far as his position on the stool would allow, and cupped Hal’s balls - bunched tight against his body - with one hand. He gave them a little squeeze and then ventured on, between the smooth and rounded globes of Hal’s buttocks, to find the puckered opening nestling between them.


His hand fully lubricated with the oil, Will pressed gently against Hal’s arsehole, teasing, teasing - and then, with a little more force, he pointed his index finger and entered the taller youth’s most intimate of orifices.


Hal shuddered with the delight of having his arse penetrated for the first time in his life, and instantly returned to sucking Will’s cock.


“Filth! Depravity! You will be scourged!” rasped the Abbot, almost hoarse now. And Will flinched with shock as a stinging blow struck him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes to see the deranged Abbot swaying: a whip in his right hand. The fat man wasted no time, and began to rain down blow after blow on Hal and Will’s vulnerable nude flesh.


Such was the Abbot’s mania, several blows missed their mark, but occasionally the whip found its target, and the two young men flinched as their bodies were abused by the cruel implement.


Hal sucked at Will’s cock with increased fervour, and this time Will knew there was no postponing the moment of orgasm.


“Oh, fuck! Oh fuck! Oh Jesus! Oh fuck!” he began to incant.


“Hear how the devilish bitch blasphemes in its hot passion!” cried the Abbot. “This is your punishment, Brother Henry! Drink his foul seed! Drink I tell you! Drink!”


Hal needed no further instructions. As sharp stinging blows from the Abbot’s whip rained on his broad and muscled back, he gobbled desperately at Will’s pulsing cock. Meanwhile, Will continued to manipulate Hal’s rock hard dick, all the while his finger fucked Hal’s hole, as surely as the wooden dildo was fucking his.


The tension built and built, Will’s muscles bunched, and then the dam was broached and wave after wave of ecstasy swept over him as his cock spewed thick white jism into Hal’s beautiful mouth. Hal did all he could to swallow, but in spite of himself, some of the cream escaped from the corners of his lips. And then it was his turn: a thick white arc shot from his cock-head, leaping into the air and landing with a spatter on Will’s shoulder. A second emission shot up and hit Will right across the cheek, before sliding into Will’s gaping mouth, and onto his panting tongue.


Finally, breathing heavily, and orgasms over, Hal rested his exhausted head against Will’s oiled chest. Eyes closed, they nevertheless heard the grunting sounds of the Abbot fumbling in his crimson robes, and spilling his own sinful seed onto the wooden floor.

Chapter 55 - A Lesson in Lust

The wooden benches were hard. This should come as no surprise. A novice monk’s life is one of duty and obedience, not luxury. The space between the rows was narrow, and when your legs were long and strong like Brother Hal’s, this added even more discomfort. He had spent the morning in prayerful contemplation, but now was time for the novices’ weekly instruction from their divine Abbot. Deep down, Hal doubted whether the Abbot was as committed to his holy vows as he really should be. But he suppressed these feelings as well he could as seditious - and quite probably blasphemous.

Hal found the Abbot rather pompous and rather over-fond of his own voice. Still, he reckoned he could manage to put up with him for the one time a week he was summoned with the others to listen to the sermon. Over the past few weeks, the Abbot had taken The Seven Deadly Sins as his treatise, and this week, they had arrived at the vexed topic of -

“Lust!” The Abbot’s moist lower lip quivered as he uttered the word. “A daily battle that you young men must fight against. For be assured, Satan will tempt you with forbidden fruit, as surely as he did Eve. The Lord will be at your side, but you must be strong and find salvation in prayer, lest you fall to sin.”

Hal nodded. The struggle to keep his mind wandering from lustful thoughts was, for him, a daily one. He listened intently as the Abbot went on.

“Here in the safe confines of our monastery, you might think yourselves safe from such wickedness. But I fear I must tell you, that even in our Eden-like paradise, we may find a serpent lurking in the most unexpected of places…”

A sudden knock came at the door of the school room.

“Ah,” said the Abbot, with a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Our visitor arrives right on cue. Enter!”

The assembled novices turned to see the newcomer. Hal was puzzled to see the short, blond gardener with whom he had spoken only a day or two previously.

“Brother Ralf told me you wished to see me, your Worship,” said Will, flushing slightly in the gaze of the many quizzical faces turned to him.

“I did indeed, young man,” said the Abbot, darkly. “Come here, to the front of the classroom.”

Will did as he was told, noting the raised eyebrows and smirks on the faces of some of the more supercilious young monks. He spotted Hal’s good-looking face and risked a half-smile.

“Well, my boys,” said the Abbot. “What do we see, before us, do we think? Hmm?”

A few of the novices looked at one another but said nothing.

“The gardening lad?” offered one, nervously, as if it were a trick question.

“Indeed. Indeed,” confirmed the Abbot, nodding vigorously. “This is indeed all he seems to be: a simple, none-too-bright young yokel. Nothing remarkable at all, one might think, no?”

His pupils asserted their agreement.

“Take off your shirt, boy,” ordered the Abbot.

Will hesitated but did as he was told, tugging the linen blouse over his head to reveal his smooth, well-muscled chest.

The Abbot rested his hand on Will’s breast.

“The lad’s torso is hardened and muscled from his physical labour, wouldn’t you agree? He seems quite ordinary, yes? Well, you would be wrong…”

And, quick as a flash, the fat old man grabbed at Will’s hessian trousers and tugged them to the floor. 

Unexpected laughter erupted from the assembled students as Will’s nudity was exposed for them all to see. And a stunned Will could only stand and gawp at them. Then, the laughter started to die away, to be replaced by a kind of bewilderment. Hal leaned forward, his surprise supplanted by curiosity. What was the weird metal protrusion hanging from the lad’s crotch?!

“It is a chastity device!” declared the Abbot in answer to their unspoken question. And he delivered a swiping blow at Will’s dangling, steel-encased prick, sending it swinging from side to side like a peculiar pendulum.

“Do you see, my friends? This creature - so outwardly modest and unassuming. So ordinary and hum-drum! The truth is that he harbours such lusts and perversions within him, that his previous master had no choice but to fit him with this constricting cage. His penis can never achieve its full erection, and if it is tempted to try, it will cause severe pain to the boy. This foul nymph is truly a creature of Satan! For lust drives his every thought!”

The Abbot’s face was ruddy with passion as he ranted. Spittle flew from his sensuous mouth and landed on Will’s naked flesh. He paused to draw breath and silence descended upon the schoolroom.

Brother Nathaniel - a wiry young man whose hair was already receding - raised his hand. “Your Holiness?” he asked.

“Yes, Nathaniel?”

“If this creature is indeed a dangerous succubus, why do we harbour him here in a Holy place?”

The students leaned forward to hear the Abbot’s explanation.

“A pertinent question,” he replied, nodding gravely. “I keep him here so that the danger his lust poses can be kept from the poor peasants and farmers hereabouts. Whilst he is contained here in the monastery, the threat he poses can be mitigated. But we must be ever vigilant, my friends. He is a permanent reminder of how evil may lurk in the most mundane places…”

Night fell and in his basic little bunk, Will marvelled anew at his capacity to feel shame. Even now, after everything he had been through, the experience of being stripped naked by the slobbering Abbot for the amused gaze of the young novice monks had distressed him considerably. Truly it was nothing compared to some of the deeply personal invasions he had been subjected to in the past year: the spankings, the purges, the bondage, every orifice used and abused for the sexual gratification of others. Maybe the past few weeks of normality had lulled him into a false sense of security: that a new, simpler chapter had opened in this unusual life of his. But it seemed - thanks to the Abbot and his dubious motives - that this was not to be. Or maybe he was more upset that the tall, handsome Brother Hal had witnessed his humiliation. Had he dared to hope that Hal might turn out to be a friend to him in this friendless universe? This now seemed unlikely after the Abbot’s hysterical castigation of his morals and character.

He pondered the Abbot’s diatribe. He did not truly think he was the hellish incubus that he had been portrayed as, sent to torment the righteous monks around him. Indeed, he had long ago abandoned any thought of God coming to his rescue, and was now quite content in the notion of a godless universe. However, he could not deny that he had started to think about Brother Hal in ways that were not in any way virtuous. His fantasies both excited and distressed him - in no small part because the infernal steel cage still prevented him from wanking - and he cursed Alexander de Courcey for unearthing this dark side of his nature, and for tutoring him in its illicit delights.

He tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He had avoided all company for the rest of the day. He could not even look the friendly Brother Ralf in the eye, for fear he would have heard of his ordeal in the schoolroom and judge him accordingly.

Will’s eyes sprang open at the sound of the creaking door. His time in the castle dormitory and in the bandits’ encampment had left him alert to the slightest sound.

“Who’s there?” he hissed, fearing instantly that the villainous Ebony had returned to claim him as his prize. Tantalising seconds passed as the intruder made his way to Will’s bedside. Will curled his right hand into a fist. If Ebony intended to steal him away once more, he would not go without a fight.

“I hope you don’t mind my coming to your bedside but I was troubled and I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to see that you were all right.”

In an instant, Will unclenched his fist as he recognised the warm, rich tones of Brother Hal. A sliver of moonlight illuminated the room and bathed Hal’s handsome face in its silvery light. Will felt his heart beat quicken as the novice monk rested his hand gently on Will’s naked shoulder.

“Yes,” Will stammered. “Thank you. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

An awkward silence hung between the two young men.

“I would like to ask you something,” whispered Hal, “but if you do not wish to answer, you must say.”

“Alright. Ask.”

“That thing you wear. Is it true what the Holy Father said? Is it a punishment or do you wear it of your own free will?”

“Why should I want to wear something like that?!”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe as some kind of penance. You know, like some monks wear hair shirts under their habits.”

Will shook his head ruefully. “No, I made a powerful enemy when I served at the castle. And the chastity cage was his revenge on me.”

Hal hesitated. “May I - may I see it again?”

Will’s breathing quickened at the prospect of exposing the humiliating cock cage to the handsome young novice. “Why?”

“Call it curiosity…”

Now it was Will’s turn to hesitate, but he quickly made up his mind, and rolled the rough blanket down to his thighs.

Fascinated, Hal brought his face level with Will’s crotch.

“May I touch it?” he inquired gently.

Will mumbled his acquiescence, and then gritted his teeth as he felt the tender touch of the monk, as he delicately lifted the steel device, Will’s penis trapped within, - first this way, then that. Will felt the familiar sensation of blood rushing to his groin, and the equally familiar stab of pain from the tight constriction of the cruel cage. He gritted his teeth.

“Does it hurt?” asked Hal.

“When my dick wants to get hard, yes.”

“And does it now?” Hal breathed in the barest whisper.

Will shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Hal let go of the steel cylinder and sat beside Will on the bed. Tentatively, he reached out and touched his cheek.

“You are very handsome, Will,” he observed with a frown.

Will averted his eyes, both frightened and excited by where this might lead. “Aren’t you worried I’ve been sent to tempt you, like the Abbot said?” he mumbled.

“The Holy Father says that you are sent by Satan.”

“I don’t think there is such a thing as Satan. There are just men. Good and bad. Or men who sometimes do good things and sometimes do bad things. And I don’t think there is a God either. Does that shock you?”

“I suppose it does. A little. And I suppose it is the sort of thing that a wicked demon might say. One that had been sent to tempt me.”

Silence descended in the dormitory. Will held his breath, wondering where on earth this discussion might lead. Eventually Hal spoke.

“Get dressed,” he said. “And follow me.”

They were bound for the forge.

As the rest of the monastery slumbered, Hal explained with hushed brevity that he was not unskilled in the trade of the blacksmith.

Will stood, barefoot and shivering in the forge as Hal worked to fashion a lock picking device that might finally free his tortured genitals from their long captivity. It was a bizarre activity, which entailed Hal having to examine Will’s crotch from every possible angle. Hal apologised frequently for this intimate familiarity but Will assured him if he could only rid him of the chastity cage, he would be forever in his debt.

“I think it will fit. At least I hope so,” said the monk after a good half hour’s work at the forge. “You will permit me to try?”
“I’ve never been so ready!”

Will held his breath, barely daring to hope that the makeshift key might work. Hal uttered a half-apology, half-exclamation as his left palm inadvertently brushed Will’s naked bollocks. He turned the pick first one way, then the other, and Will was reminded of the time Ebony had offered him the hope of freedom, only to dash it cruelly by imprisoning him once again.

A third click, and a wild hope leapt in Will’s breast as the cock cage became free and clattered to the ground. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“Oh, thank you, Hal! Thank you!” he cried, impetuously flinging his arms around the taller youth and clutching him close in a grateful embrace.

Hal chuckled gently as Will clung to him. “My sacred vows oblige me to aid all those in need. And you looked as if you were very much in need, my friend,”

Will joined in the laughter as he rested his head on Hal’s broad chest, as they sought refuge in the humour and warmth of each other.

Suddenly Will became aware of a familiar swelling at his groin. It was inevitable he supposed, that after so many months of denial, his prick would waste no time in making the most of its liberation. Soon it was straining to attention, and Will realised, with some embarrassment, that it was pushing itself firmly into Hal’s thigh. Any hope Will may have had that the folds of Hal’s robe might prevent the taller youth from noticing the pressure of his hard cock quickly dissipated as Hal looked down with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m so sorry,” mumbled Will. “It’s been so long. I don’t know how… It doesn’t mean… I should go.”

His cheeks flushed with shame, he grabbed his hessian trousers and stumbling over them, he fled from the heat of the forge. He raced back to his pallet, and, his chest heaving, he flung himself onto his bed. Had his nature truly been so altered by his experiences at the castle and at the hands of the perverted Alexander Courcey changed him forever? He tried to expel all such thoughts from his mind and tried to conjure images of the minx-like Jane with her pert breasts. But all he could see were the deep, soulful eyes of Brother Hal: the straight nose, the charming smile and square jaw. His cock began to twitch, and it was hopeless to try and deny the months of pent-up sexual frustration that were now free to vent. His fist encircled his cock-head and a mere three pumping motions, combined with the image of Hal’s long-limbed frame, caused a spasming orgasm which seemed to last forever. A veritable fountain of suppressed cum erupted from his tender boycock, and the shuddering gasp of ecstasy shook his whole body. The relief was tangible, and his balls ached with their long yearned for release. He fell asleep, the large damp patch of his cum drying guiltily beside him on his bed.

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...”

Chapter 49 - Examined by the Abbot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fat man nodded, apparently satisfied with this explanation.

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

Not sure of the proper etiquette, Will bowed deeply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why there you are, you little shite!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have I done something wrong?” asked Will.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Father.”

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

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

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

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

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

Will was wrong-footed by the unexpected query.

“An examination, my Lord? No, Sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open your mouth, boy. Wider.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will, left with no other choice, nodded dumbly.

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

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

Will pulled the chemise over his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will could only nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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