Chapter 64 - A Champagne Celebration

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open wide, slut.”

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

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

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

“Yes, Sir, please, Sir,” he incanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will gazed up woozily and watched Alexander uncork the bottle.

“Let’s get it nice and fizzy, eh?”

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

“Here we go…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Open wide, boy! Take a good swig!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will could hardly imagine anything more devastating - and tantalising.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your quest was successful then, my friend.”

Sir Geoffrey smiled benignly at his Steward.

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

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

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

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

“My Lord.” Alexander bowed deeply.

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

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

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

Chapter 62 - Quest for Will

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 60 - The Pear Pops

 

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

Chapter 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.