Chapter 61 - In the Stock(ing)s

 

    “You’re sure you will not stay longer, your Majesty?” inquired Lord Geoffrey.
    “I have been absent from my home for long enough, and the North of England in November holds little appeal compared to my palace in Madrid,” came the Queen’s sardonic reply.
    “Such a long journey for so brief a sojourn.”
    “To be frank, the condition of my nephew has caused me some distress.”
    Geoffrey chuckled inwardly. I bet it has, he thought to himself.
    “If he shows any signs of improvement, you will let me know?”
    “Of course, your Majesty. Though his physicians seem doubtful on the matter. May I at least offer your party an escort south? As you know, there has been a traditional enmity between our nations, and I will gladly provide you with the security of showing that you are under my protection.”
    The Queen bit her lip. “That would be - most kind.”

    By the time evening came around, the Spaniards had departed.
    “She’ll be cursing all the way to Dover!” Lord Geoffrey declared. “She must have reckoned she could march out of here with Felix, selling the peasants a sob story that she had liberated him from the cruel and ruthless barons!”
    Alexander chuckled. “And it’s tricky to have a figurehead who dribbles like a baby and craps himself in a nappy…”
    “Quite. As ever, my friend, I find myself in your debt.”
    Alexander accepted the compliment with a gracious nod of his head.
    “And now, I must release you on your own quest. You are no doubt anxious to be on the road and find that tantalising young page boy of yours. But be quick. I need you back to help me organise this year’s Christmas fair. I want it to be the most splendid Castle Montford has ever seen. We are in power now - and we must celebrate accordingly!”
    “Thank you, Sir. I shall leave in the morning.”

    Alexander wasted no time. He had no desire to be on the road for any longer than necessary - particularly at this time of year. Hopefully he could retrieve the little slutbitch with the peachy arse and the legs made in heaven and be back home that very evening.
    He saddled Fallow - the horse he had stolen from the naive blacksmith brothers, - packed a saddlebag with provisions, and, taking two guards with him just to be on the safe side, he was on his way.
    Within the hour he arrived at the pokey little village where he had first set eyes upon Will the peasant boy fifteen months ago. How much had happened in just over a year to both their fortunes, he mused. From some distance away, he spotted the wooden hut and looked around for a sign either of the blond lad or his grovelling mother. A grin spread across his face as he saw from behind, a short young man, bending over in some menial task. The figure wore sturdy leather leggings which concealed, most frustratingly, the contours of his legs and arse. Never mind, mused Alexander, he’d soon be back in some tight-fitting hose when he was back at the castle.
    Fallow trotted closer to the hut and Alexander could restrain himself no longer.
    “Boy!” he called out.
    The man span round in surprise, and instantly Alexander realised he was mistaken. Although of similar proportions and with the same fair colouring, this individual was more muscular, a few inches taller and a good ten years older than Will. Obviously a relation of some kind, mused the Steward. That was good news at least: the family were still here.
    The blond man wore an expression of some confusion. He showed no sign of recognising the stranger, but the fine black doublet and silken hose told him all he needed to know regarding Alexander’s status.
    “It’s many years since I’ve been called ‘boy’, Sire,” smiled the peasant ruefully. “What brings a fine gentleman such as you to such humble surroundings?”
    “Who’s there, Jack?” came a whining voice from within the hut, and a thin woman, her straggly grey hair tied in the nape of her neck, appeared in the doorway. Alexander’s interest, however, was piqued instantly by the fact that the woman’s bodice was of a far finer material than her dull brown skirt, and though a little faded and frayed, it had clearly once been a vivid blue. Alexander recognised it at once as one of the waist-long doublets worn by the pages of Castle Montford.
    “I do not wish to disturb you honest folk,” he informed the couple. “My name is Alexander Courcey and I am the Chief Steward at the castle. I understand that one of my servants - a page boy by the name of Will - was erroneously returned to this village in the summer. From the resemblance between you, peasant, I can only assume that you are a relation of his. Kindly hand over the lad and I shall be on my way.”
    Husband and wife fell momentarily silent. Clearly this was an unexpected development.
    Eventually the woman spoke. “He’s not here,” she said blandly.
    “Hush, Lizzie,” admonished her husband. “Leave this to me.”
    Alexander smiled through clenched teeth “What do you mean, he’s not here?”
    “My youngest brother left the village some months ago, Sir,” explained Jack. “I’m sorry but we have no idea of where he is now.”
    Alexander’s eyes narrowed. He might have known it wouldn’t be all that easy. Why were matters never straightforward when that sexy little minx was involved!
    “You must know something of his whereabouts, surely? He is still young to be making his way in the world all on his own.”
    “I think his time at the castle amongst great men such as yourself meant that he could not settle back into his former, simple life. He was restless here. We all agreed he would be happier if he moved on.”
    Alexander was unconvinced. Will’s brother was clearly unused to lying, and he did it very poorly. In one athletic leap, the Steward swang his black-hosed legs from the saddle. Drawing his dagger from his belt, he bore down on the suddenly cringing farmer. He grabbed the shorter man by the collar and brought the blade to his neck.
    “You’re lying to me. Furthermore, your slut of a wife is wearing the boy’s clothing. Tell me what you know or I will slit your throat as easily as you do your livestock!”
    Jack’s pale face blanched even further, but before he had chance to open his mouth, an ear-piercing shriek emitted from his wife’s cracked lips.
    “Slut?! How dare you? I’ll tell you who the real slut is: that perverted little creature! Whoring his plump little arse to any man who wanted to own him! Tarting his bum around in those blue stockings of his - and then having the nerve to think he was better than us!”
    “Lizzie, be silent!” hissed Jack urgently.
    “I will do no such thing, husband. Jack’s right: he didn’t fit in here any longer. Page boy? Bum boy more like it. It was obvious when you snatched him from his poor mother’s arms, it wasn’t his skills for serving at table that you were interested in! You were paying for the skills of a whore! And you even went back on that. One copper piece a month you promised us. And where’s that been these past months I ask of you? Well good luck to you if you can find the little bitch. You’re welcome to him. All he’s good for now is to be your bum boy. You might be rich and dressed all fancy but the Lord sees you mincing around in those obscene tights of yours and so do I! You’re all sinners and sodomites and we’re not afraid of you!”
    Lizzie came to the end of her diatribe and her final accusation hung in the cold air. Any of the villagers who had not noticed the arrival of the finely attired gentleman had now been alerted by their neighbour’s shrieking, and an awed group of spectators peered from the surrounding hovels.
    Eventually Alexander spoke, and his words were all the more dangerous for the calm tone in which he uttered them. “You express yourself forcefully, wench. It seems to me that your husband might have been better occupied training that wayward tongue of yours. There is a saying: you cannot teach an old dog new tricks. I myself have never subscribed to that opinion, however.” He turned nonchalantly to his bodyguards. “Gag and bind the bitch.”
    They obeyed without question. Soon Lizzie, struggling and kicking her legs in protest, was tied to her own gatepost, her mouth stuffed with a dirty rag.
    Keeping his dagger at Jack’s nervously bobbing Adam’s apple, Alexander whispered in his ear: “As for you, my friend. I think both you and your wife need to be taught a little lesson in respect.”
    “Please, Sir,” said Jack, hoarsely. “She speaks before she thinks. It has ever been her downfall! Have mercy on us both.”
    “Be quiet! Or I shall have you gagged too.”
    Alexander stepped back, although he kept the dagger pointed meaningfully at Jack’s chest. “Now, take off your tunic.”
    Jack was too frightened to do anything but comply.
    “And your shirt.”
    He could hear Lizzie’s muffled protests but he did not dare even glance in her direction as he tugged his cotton shirt over his head. He tossed it to the ground, shivering as the cold November air hit his bare chest.
    Alexander nodded approvingly. Jack’s shoulders were broad and strong from manual labour, the pectorals defined and his biceps bulged nicely. Alexander licked his lips: hopefully the lower half would be just as promising.
    “Kick off your boots, peasant.”
    Reluctantly Jack complied, and as he stood barefoot on the straw-covered ground, his brown eyes looked pleadingly at Alexander. He knows what’s coming next, thought the Steward to himself. And that glance, desperately submissive, reminded him more than ever of the sexy little Will.
    A ripple of anticipation passed round Jack’s assembled neighbours. Would the proud intruder strip him completely?
    Alexander cocked his head to one side. “And finally, take off those grubby trousers of yours. Strip!”
    “Please, Sir…”
    “I am not accustomed to being defied, peasant. I told you to strip. I want to see you naked as the day you were born.”
    Jack let out a rasping sigh in the cold morning air as he fumbled at the cord that tied his baggy trousers. He held on to the waistband for a moment, as if hoping Alexander might retract the command. No such thing happened, and raising his eyes heavenwards, he let his trousers drop to the ground.
    As Alexander had anticipated, the legs muscles were meaty and well-rounded, as is often the case in shorter, stockier men: particularly those who are engaged in manual labour. Jack instinctively covered his crotch with cupped palms, but Alexander swatted them away.
    “Hands by your side,” he instructed curtly.
    The miserable farmer did as he was ordered. His cock was not large, but Alexander was charitable and attributed this to the biting autumn chill, combined with the humiliation of exposure before his friends and neighbours.
    “Turn around. Let me see your peasant arse.”
    Jack shuffled on the spot, and once again Alexander was pleased by the sight. The buttocks were pleasingly plump, with little dimples in each cheek. The muscularity was defined as the farmer squeezed them tight - either through embarrassment or because of the cold.
    “Not bad. Not bad at all, peasant. Now, your shrewish wife has been most disparaging on the subject of the hosiery that is the fashion up at the castle.” Alexander unstrapped his saddle bag. “She seems to find it unseemly for a man to display his assets in body-hugging leggings. What was the word she used? Obscene!” He rummaged inside the satchel. “Let us see whether she feels the same way once we have dressed her husband in some.”
    Alexander returned to stand in front of the shivering farmer and unrolled a pair of cream coloured tights. He let the silken garment dangle for a moment in front of Jack’s miserable face. “They won’t give you much protection against the cold, but I have a feeling you’ll look very attractive in them.”
    Jack reached out his hand hesitantly and took the garment, the impossibly soft fabric caressing his callused palms. His mind whirled. How ordinary the day had seemed at its outset - and now, here he was, shamed in front of his whole village, naked and forced to dress in the clinging hosiery of the degenerate noble class.
    Reluctantly he bent over, the sniggers of his less sympathetic neighbours ringing in his reddening ears. He had never worn such a delicate item before, and he was unsure how best to put it on: ruche the fabric together before stepping in, or just stick his foot inside one of the silken tubes, and pull?
    “You’d better not tear them, you clumsy oaf!” warned Alexander. “And get on with it. I can’t wait around here all day!”
    In truth, Alexander was eager to be on his way and track Will down, but the truculent farmer and his obnoxious wife needed to be taught a lesson, and Will’s elder brother - whilst not as appealing to Alexander’s taste - did possess a certain allure.
    Gingerly, Jack placed his naked foot inside the cream-coloured hosiery and slowly began to tug them all the way up. Alexander watched, fascinated, as Jack’s hairy calves and thighs were encased by the sensuous fabric, until the waistband of the tights snapped into place against the farmer’s flat stomach, his package bulging beautifully inside. Jack’s pale skin blushed an even darker shade as he stood, bare-chested in the footed tights. Meanwhile, the onlookers pointed and giggled to see his figure so daringly exposed. He cowered a little as Alexander walked around him and flinched as the taller man grabbed the waistband.
    “Let’s have them pulled up properly!” said Alexander, hoiking up the fabric as far as it would go, splitting the globes of Jack’s muscular arse in two. He gave the buttocks a gentle pat.
    “Mmm very nice. I see a generously proportioned bum runs in your family…”
    “Please, Sir,” mumbled Jack. “May I get dressed again?”
    “Oh but you are dressed - at least well enough for my purposes. Look at how your wife gazes upon you. She’s practically frantic with desire to see your assets so enhanced!”
    In truth, Lizzie’s eyes bulged apoplectically, and she was rubbing her wrists raw with the attempt to free herself from the post.
    Alexander continued to circle around the stocky farmer. He reached out to squeeze Jack’s balls through the clinging fabric, and Jack instinctively drew away, standing on tiptoe to try and avoid the molestation.
    “Oh, no, young man. Don’t be so coy. If you’re to shy away like a frightened filly, then we must needs find a means of keeping you still.” He glanced around the meagre village square. “And I think the village stocks will prove most apposite for the purpose!”
    The wooden stocks were crude and rarely put to use, but they were certainly sufficient for what Alexander had in mind. With the dagger reapplied to Jack’s tender neck, the miserable farmer stumbled over to where the stocks stood. At a sign from Alexander, the bodyguards lifted the upper plank of wood, and Jack’s head was forced downwards, his neck and wrists positioned in the gaps. Then the top plank was lowered and secured in place, leaving Jack’s torso parallel to the ground, his body bent at a right angle, and his hosed feet sinking into the cold mud.
    “Very nice,” murmured Alexander as he stroked Jack’s naked back, feeling the muscles bunch and tense beneath the pale skin. “You have goosebumps, my lad. I wonder if that is from the cold or merely … anticipation!”
    “Let’s have those legs spread a little wider,” he continued, as his hand slapped between Jack’s meaty thighs, encouraging them further apart. “And how is your cock doing?”
    He reached through, delighting in the delicious sensation of hard, muscular man flesh beneath the thin sheen of hosiery. “Still soft. How disappointing. In my extensive experience, Most men find the sensation of tights against their crotch supremely arousing! Still others discover a masochistic streak in public humiliation such as this - stripped and degraded before everybody they know - and it would have that little pecker of yours springing to attention almost at once. But perhaps you are not one of those men. What a pity. In that case I fear you will find what is to happen to you next even more unpleasant.”
    Alexander gave Jack’s crotch a consolatory squeeze and allowed his forefinger to follow the crevice of his arse, the clinging tights bisecting the two slabs of Jack’s rump, until his palm rested, once again, on the hose’s waistband. Jack’s bare chest was heaving deeply by now, and, despite the cold, sweat had formed on his brow.
    “Please, Sir,” he said. “I am not one of those who desire other men. I beg of you, however else you wish to punish me, do not use me in that way.”
    “Your wife has insulted me, peasant, and in the crudest way possible. I will be revenged. And if I can take some pleasure from your punishment, then so much the better. I will see to it that should your pathetic union with this woman persist, and if ever the two of you fuck again, the image of me possessing your meaty arse will be forever imprinted on both your brains!”

Chapter 53 - Stuffed in Scarlet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 12 - On the Dessert Menu

The table top span again.

Will caught sight of Raymond’s distinctly queasy face in the mirrors. From the look of him, it seemed likely that he might vomit before the game ended.

Will was acutely aware of the fullness in his backside. He’d become very used to having it filled, and as yet he wasn’t struggling to keep the chocolatey deposit safe inside him. He cursed his bad luck, however, as the table-top slowed and he realised that once again his arse would be the recipient of Mistress Olwen’s handiwork.

“Oh dear,” mused Alexander. “The Gods are not on your side today, are they, bitch? And these plums are large: over three inches in diameter I should say.”

Will could only nod in dumb agreement. His asshole would need to stretch wide open to accommodate the dark purple fruit.

“So what we’re all dying to know, boy, is exactly how many you will have to suck up your chute!”

Will was relieved to see that this time Alexander only used one die instead of two to determine how many plums he would have be required to swallow.

“Three! A fair number, I should say, given the size of these beauties. Will you stand by with the potion, Yorick? The bitch will need to breathe very deeply for these to enter successfully…”

Another hit of potion, and Will felt his arse cheeks being spread apart, pulled firmly to facilitate the intrusion of the large plums. Alexander coated one of them liberally with cream and positioned it against his puckered hole. Will could see it nestling there in the mirrored reflection – massive and wide.

“Please, Sir,” he whimpered. “It’s too big…”

“Shut the fuck up, slut. Whilst I’m your master nothing is too big. You’re going to take it all.”

Alexander began to push. This time the invasion was brutal: no gradual widening of the foreign object, as was the case with the chocolate egg or his butt plug. The plum was instantly forcing his ass wide.

“Ah… ah… ah…” he gasped.

“A beautiful sight, boy, to see your slutty hole stretching to accommodate the plum.”

Will desperately inhaled the potion, and indeed, its vapours did seem to relax his sphincter somewhat. He concentrated every effort on trying to take the plum up him. Alexander’s pressure was relentless, and finally, with a squelching sound, he saw the curve of the plum disappear inside him, and his red asshole snap back into place behind it.

The sensation of his arse being stretched beyond endurance was replaced by the fullness of the plum lying hard and heavy inside his bum. His head swam from the potion, but he was to be allowed no respite, as he felt his arse once again being assailed.

“It will be easier now your arse has been stretched,” observed Alexander. And this did prove to be the case. The second plum dutifully entered him with relative ease.

“How are you feeling, slut? Full yet?”

“Yes, Sir. I am.”

“Well you’re going to have to work those muscles for a while longer yet. If you let any of your arse’s contents out, you’ll have lost the contest. And you really don’t want that to happen, now, do you?”

Will could feel the plums jostling just inside his ring. As yet he did not feel any urgency to push them out, but he knew he was only going to get fuller as time went on.

“Just one more plum, now,” cooed Alexander. And the final fruit was pressed to his puckered opening. “Open wide now.”

Will tried, really tried to force his arse to open yet another time, but the plums already within him were exerting a terrible pressure from the inside of his anus. No matter how much he breathed and tried to relax, his unco-operative sphincter remained stubbornly shut.

“No use resisting, boy,” grunted Alexander, as with one shove, he forced the final plum up the boy’s reluctant pussy.

“Aaaaaargh!” Will screamed as he was penetrated once more. Something inside him gave way, and he felt the chocolate and fruit already in him pushed further up his passage.

He panted desperately, his body convulsing in shock at the ferocity of the invasion.

“Mmmm, nice,” murmured his master. “Do you know how much it turns me on to hear you scream like that? I’m guessing you’re feeling pretty damn full by now. You’d better hope it’s not your turn again next…”

Will shivered in spite of the heat in the room, as his body adjusted to its latest aggressor.

“Better pull his tights back up for now, Yorick. It might encourage him to hold on longer…”

Unceremoniously, Will’s hose were pulled up, the silken material disappearing as usual and resting in the crack of his sore arse.

“Round we go again!”

Spinning, spinning, spinning…

“Now I have two, thick, firm bananas ready to go up one of you lucky boy’s cunts. Which of you will it be, I wonder?”

 Eventually, the table top came to its rest,

Will glanced across at Alexander and the table of desserts. It was the closest call yet, but Will sighed with relief to see that Raymond’s arse was fractionally nearer to the Steward’s eager hands and pulsing, tighted cock.

Alexander made a great deal of considering who had lost this particular round of his perverted game. “What do you think, Yorick? Is it the blue or the yellow?”

Raymond – who had resigned himself to being the recipient of the phallic fruit – perked up, hopefully.

“It is indeed a close call, Master Alexander,” replied Yorick. “But I do believe it is young Raymond’s turn to have his young bottom stuffed…”

“No, please. Please, no…” the boy gibbered.

“Silence, slut!” Alexander snapped. “Perhaps you are right.” He began to peel the first banana and made his way up to Raymond’s butt. “Your arse must feel positively roomy with only that small handful of grapes inside. You should have no trouble in taking this. We should be grateful that the banana is such a convenient design. A fruit in the shape of a cock. And here we have a delightfully long one at that. It may not have the girth of the plum, but it more than makes up for it in length!”

More frothy cream was applied to the tip of the peeled banana and Will was able to watch the pale yellow fruit begin to disappear inside Raymond’s peachy behind.

“Oh, oh, oh,” the other boy gasped as he was raped by the banana’s flesh. Alexander teased him by withdrawing the fruit slightly, and then slowly inserted the entire length of it.

Alexander began to rub Raymond’s cock through his hose. “A yellow banana for my yellow tights bitch. How does that feel, boy? Having a big old banana shoved deep inside your slutty cunt?”

Will saw Raymond’s face crumple. Is he going to cry, he wondered.

“Answer me, boy!”

“It feels – humiliating. Degrading. To be used like this,” whimpered Raymond. “My bum being stuffed first with grapes and then a banana.”

“Good. As it should be. And now, we have its twin, ready to join the first.”

Alexander began to unpeel the remaining fruit. Suddenly he paused.

“And yet… I can’t help feel that this banana is so fine and straight and firm, it would be a shame for our blue bitch not to experience it. And the table did rest at roughly the halfway point, after all…”

“Please, Sir!” Will exclaimed, without thinking. “That’s not fair!”

Alexander strode over to the lad, and grabbed the top of his hair. “Don’t you dare presume to tell me what to do, bitch. Haven’t you learned, yet? Life here in the castle isn’t fair! And boy, you’ve sealed your fate now. You’ll take this banana up your arsehole, and you’ll take it all!”

Will wasn’t sure he could even try, but as soon as the fruit began to be pushed into him, he realised his body had somehow managed to suck the heavy plums further inside him, so that there was now some space to accommodate the entry of the banana. Will breathed deeply as he felt the fruit sliding smoothly up his arse. Only right at the end did the banana meet any resistance, and Will felt the last inch or so break off as his arse closed around the bulk of the fruit.

Alexander moved to Will’s other end and smeared the gunky banana over the boy’s cheeks and then pushed it into his mouth.

“I said you’d swallow it all. I suppose this end of you will do as well, bitch…”

Will gulped down the sweet tasting fruit. He glanced down, and saw his belly swollen – filled as it now was with the chocolate fondant, the plums and now the big banana.

“Good, boys. I had every confidence you could do it! And I’ve always been fond of baked banana. I look forward to the reappearance of the bananas once they’ve been heated to a melted, gunky mush by your respective guts! Which one will be released first, I wonder?”

Will squeezed his arse hole tight. He was determined to beat Raymond even though his backside must now be packed with at least twice the volume that had been deposited inside his rival’s anal cavity.

Alexander turned to the silver platter. “What a pity… it seems that all too soon our entertaining little game must draw to a close. Still, I have saved the best till last.”

With a flourish, he produced a large bowl full of fluffy, pink marshmallows.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Yorick,” he admonished. “They may not have the length of a banana or the girth of a plum, but they are a devilish addition to our contest. And this is why: the combination of sugar and gelatine is a fatal one! The mixture will irritate the arse lining of our victims very quickly, and will have the effect of a laxative. The arse will desperately want to expel the mallows, and the effort of trying to keep them inside will be most excruciating for one of these poor young sluts!”

Will gulped. Wherever the table landed on this turn looked very likely to decide who would win and who would lose Alexander’s kinky game.

Raymond seemed to be having the same thought, and was shifting his body weight awkwardly as his stomach growled and grumbled in protest at its cargo.

“Here we go! One last time!” declared Yorick.

Will was having to breathe deeply and heavily now, maintaining every ounce of concentration to ensure that his body did not rebel against his wishes, crying out as it was to be allowed to release the accumulated foodstuffs that had been forced inside him. As the wheel began to slow, a sharp cramp in his stomach nearly propelled the tightly packed food inside him into his hose. Will screwed up his eyes and squeezed his hole tighter than he could have imagined possible. He panted and sweated with the effort, but somehow, miraculously he managed not to leak any of his precious cargo.

Finally he opened his eyes. He groaned inwardly. He looked up into Yorick’s leering face: his bum, still pointed toward the sky, resting perfectly conveniently next to Alexander and the waiting bowl of marshmallows.

Alexander tutted. “Your hole really is the greediest I’ve ever known, boy. You can’t get enough, can you?”

The potion was forced back under his nose, causing his senses to swim. What if the other boys in the village could see him now, he wondered. Forced onto all fours like a dog, naked apart from his figure-hugging skin tight hosiery which clung to every curve of his young body: encasing his feet, his muscular calves and thighs, the hard firmness of his cock and balls, and the round peaches of his arse. And added to that, a bulging stomach also covered by the waistband of the tights. His most intimate opening had been violated in the most humiliating of ways merely for Alexander’s amusement: with the sweets and delicacies of the dessert tray mercilessly inserted into his backside. His stomach muscles cramped and protested as he felt the waist of his tights lowered for yet new torture to begin.

It wasn’t large, and given the stretching his arse had had over the past couple of months, it was no surprise that the marshmallow popped inside him with ease. Alexander’s fingers followed it, pushing it in deeper, and impacting the larder-worth of food already inside him still deeper. And damn it, the devilish potion was working its evil magic on him once more, his cock rock hard and hornier than ever. A second mallow, a third. The sweets came hard and fast so that soon Alexander was pushing in two or three at a time. Will felt them jostling inside him, almost as if they were sentient and all pushing for space inside their cramped new home.

Alexander paused as Will grunted and groaned as he yet again was forced to resist the urge to empty his bowels. But as soon as the wave passed, he began again, pushing the sugary confectionaries, one after another up the poor little page boy.

“It’s feeling very full in there now, bitch,” taunted the older man. “I’m struggling even to fit these last few marshmallows in.” He tugged at the boy’s asslips, and slid in another sweet. “You’d better take them all, though. If you fail to fit them inside you, then you lose automatically.”

Will gritted his teeth. He was fearful of what Alexander’s punishment would be were he to lose the contest, and, besides, he desperately wanted to see the smug look of superiority wiped from Raymond’s pretty face in the eventuality that he would be beaten.

“Last one!” declared Alexander. The final mallow was pushed in, and Will could see in the mirror that it was stuck there, a pink, foamy blob protruding from his bottom, unable to make it inside.

“Come along now! It has to go all the way in.”

It was only the Steward’s skilful manipulation of Will’s sphincter that permitted the final recalcitrant sweetmeat to join its fellows in the young lad’s anal cavity.

“Congratulations! You have a talented hole, slut. We must think of further uses for it…”

Alexander licked his lips lasciviously as he rolled Will’s blue hose back up to cover his bum, so that both he and Raymond’s arses were once again encased in the silken garment. “Now, boys. Down you get. You must be stiff and sore from kneeling on the wooden table top all this time…” His knowing expression made it clear that he was all too aware that it was not merely their bodies that were stiff and their knees that were sore.

Raymond and Will moved carefully as they clambered down from the turntable: each dreadfully aware that any sudden movements could provoke an abrupt and unwanted spasm that could see them losing both control of their bowels and the competition.

“Over here!” Alexander guided them to an old and stained rug that had been laid on the floor. “Now – maybe we should see you dance for us. What do you think of that, Master Yorick? Would that amuse you at all? Perhaps something particularly slutty!”

The two pageboys stood trembling before their masters. Alexander’s description of the effect the marshmallows would have on Will’s arse was proving all too accurate. His sphincter quivered and his guts screamed out to him to expel their contents. Will’s sole consolation was that Raymond seemed to be having a similar dilemma in hanging onto his arse’s cargo.

“Stick your bums out, sluts!” ordered Alexander. “Rotate them as if you were common whores. Do your best to excite Master Yorick and me. Perhaps we will be kind if you succeed.”

Both boys, stomachs bulging, began to obey. Will felt ridiculous and humiliated, being turned into a mere erotic object for these two voyeurs. He blushed and cast his eyes to the floor as he ground his arse against the air, in the way he had when Alexander had first fucked him in this very room.

“Play with yourselves! I want to see your hands all over your tights, stroking, caressing them!”

Raymond obliged instantly, lightly sliding his hands over the shiny material of his yellow hose. More hesitantly, Will followed, unused and embarrassed to such lascivious exhibitionism.

“You must both be feeling very full, now. Are you getting close to release? Is the desperation to shit driving you crazy? You must hold on. As long as you can! Remember, the consequences for the loser will be most terrible. And yet lose one of you must. And it will happen soon. Soon one of you will lose control. You can’t hang on forever to the quantity of food that I’ve shoved into you!”

Suddenly Raymond cried out in a mixture of agony and arousal.

Will’s heart leaped. Was that it? Had he won?

In that instant, the biggest cramp yet hit him, and he knew this time he couldn’t control it.

Sure enough, like a dam bursting, his tortured arselips parted, and a flood of food gushed out of him. He dropped to his knees with the intensity of the experience; a low, animalistic, guttural cry emitting from his mouth, just as a thunderous farting sound came from his other end. The wet gungey mess emptied into his clinging tights, and he gasped in pain as the three fat plums shot out of him, one after another, in quick succession.

He felt a terrible mixture of relief finally to be dumping his awful load, and utter shame. Even now, he could not be rid of the obscene and humiliating mess, for his hose kept it all pressed tight against his body. He felt the sensation of his arse’s contents collecting in the garment’s gusset. He looked at his reflection, only to see the blue pristineness of his tights marred by the brown, chocolatey stain blossoming and spreading over his arse cheeks: lumps of banana and marshmallow lodged in the cracks of his arse. The large plums rested heavily by his bollocks.

He panted from the effort. He squirmed in distaste as he felt melted chocolate trickle down his inner thighs, dribbling down the length of his tights and puddling at his knees. His tights sagged slightly as the weight of the gunky mess caused the arse of his hose to bulge. The gunge felt warm and wet and sticky. He uttered a little sob of helplessness and disgust.

“You disgusting little slut,” said Alexander, rubbing energetically at his cock, clearly intensely aroused by the sight of the boy, devastated and spent in his ruined tights. “You’ve filled your hose with all that filthy gooey gunk, and now it’s just lying there, enclosed next to your skin, cooling in the fresh air.”

He turned to his associate. “Yorick, will you check the yellow bitch’s arse?”

“Gladly, Alexander.”

The stocky fellow prodded Raymond’s hole through the stretchy yellow fabric. “He’s clean. No leakage yet,” he reported.

Will felt like sobbing with despair. What awful torture awaited him now?

Raymond’s grin was triumphant even as he held one hand to his stomach, seeking to calm its turbulence.

“It seems we have our victor,” said Alexander. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Yorick nodded eagerly, leering at Will. “And our loser,” he added.