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 48 - A Change of Habit

Will opened his eyes groggily. How long had he slept, he wondered. Gingerly, he raised his head and looked around him. Moonlight illuminated the sky, and the noisy snoring of the dozen bandits assailed his ears. He was still lying, discarded, in the corner of the barn. It all flooded back to him. After the episode with the beer enema, the raucous party had continued: the robbers growing even more inebriated. The alcohol had made them argumentative and aggressive and they had fallen to brawling, Lunk pummelling his cronies with his ham-like fists. Will, meanwhile, to his relief, had been forgotten about.

A sudden thought occurred to him. Could it be true? Could it be that, in their drunkenness, they had actually forgotten to tether him to the iron ring in the barn’s wall? Praise the Lord! Yes, they had!

A wild hope leaped within him. He would need to think quickly: a process hindered by the pounding headache he was experiencing. Had anyone ever had a hangover before from taking beer up their anus, he wondered vaguely.

What to do now? His first instinct was to get on his feet and to run as far and as fast as he could. Then, as his bleary head began to clear, the practicalities of the situation began to sink in. The chill of autumn had set in, and besides, he could not very well go traipsing around the countryside naked.

He tiptoed over to the haul of loot that the gang had snatched earlier that night and sent up a quick prayer of thanks that there, dumped amongst the silverware, coins and wine bottles, lay a small selection of furs. He picked up the largest and managed to wrap it around himself, tying it off with a leather studded belt. It was not ideal, but it made a kind of short tunic that at least covered his upper body and genitals, though it left his muscular legs bare and exposed. And for once, further good fortune smiled on Will as he noticed that one of the thugs had discarded his leather boots on the ground before falling asleep. They were too big for Will, but they were better than nothing and would at least mean he did not have to flee barefoot!

What else to take? He snatched up a handful of coins and a small dagger. He glanced over to the snoring throng. Once they awoke and realised he had slipped from their clutches, they’d be sure to pursue him. Would it be safer to slit their throats now as they slept? He rejected the idea almost immediately. He could not take the chance of one or more of them awaking before the job was done. He could never take them all on! Besides, in spite of the cruelty he had experienced at their hands, he did not think, even now, that he could bring himself to murder a dozen men in cold blood. No, the best thing to do would be to set off straight away and get as big a head start as possible before they woke and inevitably came after him.

Will inhaled a lungful of fresh night air and took one final look at Lunk, lying prone and unconscious on the ground. Then he stole out of the barn and started out on his way to – who knew where? For the first time in over a year he was master of his own destiny. Where that would lead him, heaven only knew!

No such luxury as freedom for young Raymond StClare and his highness Prince Felix of England. It may have been the early hours of the morning but there was to be no sleep for these two young men.

“They’ll pay for this, those fuckers,” swore the Prince through gritted teeth. “How dare they? How dare they?!!”

Raymond sighed deeply. The Prince had kept on with this theme, incandescent with rage, for the past hour – as long as the two of them had been incarcerated in the castle dungeon.

They had been taken, still naked but for their sopping wet hosiery, and with Raymond’s peachy arse hanging out of the back of his piebald tights, from the courtyard, under the watchful gaze of Alexander and his cronies. Now they were manacled and secured to opposite walls of the dungeon. Felix thrashed impotently at his chains.

“They will all die for this. Anyone who witnessed my humiliation this evening will pay. Every single one of them! I swear that as a solemn oath! Don’t they know who I am?!” His voice rose even higher and became a scream. “I am God’s chosen. The Prince of this realm!” He balled his hand into a fist and thumped the uncaring stone wall.

Raymond remained silent as the Prince continued his tirade. “And as for you – grovelling at the feet of that traitor! ‘Ravish me, Sir! Fuck my arse!’ What kind of man are you?”

“One who would stay alive,” hissed Raymond through gritted teeth.

For a moment, Felix was stunned into silence.

“Your highness,” Raymond went on, in a more conciliatory tone. “Remember when you first laid eyes on me? It was the lowest point of my life. I had been for months at the mercy of that revolting Sir Wilfrid – used day and night as his sex slave, his pisspot. I was a mere animal at the whim of a crazed and perverted old man. Did I give up hope? No. I had to believe that I would escape from that hellish bed chamber. And sure enough – you raised me up to your right hand. My point, Sire, is that the wheel of fortune has turned. It will turn again. But we must try and stay alive long enough to enjoy our return to power and the inevitable downfall of your godfather and Alexander Courcey. For now, that requires obedience and compliance.”

“And for that,” sneered the Prince. “You are prepared to prostitute yourself! To hawk your arse like some common slut on the street! Have you no pride?”

Raymond gritted his teeth. “Oh I have my pride, and believe me, I’m as angry as you are. But remember, I have not had your privileged upbringing, my Lord. My father was a squire to the king. He was a noble man, but he was poor, and when he died my sister and I inherited only his debts. However, I am a quick learner. And from the moment I arrived in this God-forsaken castle, I realised the quickest way to advance would be to wiggle my bum in Master Courcey’s direction. I did it before to become his favourite. I’m more than prepared to do it again in order to save my life.”

Felix shook his head. “I would rather die than submit to such obscene degradation.”

“Really, my Lord? You’re dead an awfully long time, you know. And if I’m not mistaken, didn’t you wiggle your arse at him not that long ago? When you tricked him into trying to seduce you?”

Raymond knew that this was a risky strategy, but the whirlwind events of the past few hours had made him reckless, and he was not particularly in the mood for the Prince’s sanctimonious cant.

“That was different,” stuttered Prince Felix. “I was trying to catch him out.”

“And you did so most successfully, your highness. But did you really gain no satisfaction whatsoever as he groped your tights and climb into bed with you...?”

Felix gulped. He well remembered how he had feigned lust and allowed Alexander to paw at his body, fondle his royal cock through his hose, even to lie atop him. But that had all been in order to trap the traitor and to ensure the Steward’s downfall. Yes, Felix conceded to himself, he had been moderately excited by the sensations – but that was purely due to the thrill of deceiving the treasonous older man and for no other reason. After all, he himself was not prone to such perversions.

The Prince recovered his dignity. “You and your fellow slut page boys might experience such stirrings of lust. I am from nobler stock,” he remarked pompously.

Raymond sniffed. “Whatever, you needn’t think Courcey will get away with this. When the King returns, I will personally take great pleasure in exacting my revenge on dear Master Alexander. I’m younger than him. I’m cuter than him. I’m cleverer than him. And I’m more ambitious as well.”

Silence fell in the cell as the two young men seethed indignantly.

Eventually the Prince spoke – and his voice was now rather meeker than before. “You’ve served Courcey for many years, Raymond. What do you think he will do to us?”

Raymond contemplated for a moment. “It’s hard to say: his sexual appetites are broad, and as you know already, encompass a range of kinks and perversions. His main turn-on – as you may have realised already – is humiliation: he loves seeing a good-looking young man completely at his mercy: ideally dressed in figure-hugging tights. He really loves to see a guy with a good body in a pair of hose that show off his legs, crotch and arse. So, with all due respect, your highness – the sight of you naturally drives him wild. He likes to humiliate boys verbally – to point out in great detail the exact predicament in which he has placed them, and how he is in complete control of their destiny. He gets off on tying lads up, gagging them, spanking their bums, forcing them to suck his cock... And he particularly enjoys playing with their arses, including rinsing them out with enemas. Sometimes with something as prosaic as mere water, but often with more imaginative enema solutions. Oh, and if there’s any food to hand, you can bet he’ll want to shove that up a cute lad’s hole as well.”

Felix’s handsome face turned as white as a sheet. “You don’t seriously think he would dare... invade me in that way!”

“You read some of that erotic literature that he keeps in his library. That gives you a broad indication of his tastes. And besides, what does he have to lose? He and Lord Geoffrey have gone this far. They both know by now that if and when you return to power, they are dead men. They will seek to degrade you in every way they can think of.”

“What can we do?”

“Very little, unfortunately, but submit. For now, they have the upper hand. But we will store up all these insults ready for our revenge.”

Raymond watched the Prince, as with growing horror, Felix realised that for the first time in his life, he was at the mercy of someone else.

“Forgive my impertinence, my Lord,” ventured Raymond. “But have you ever lain with either man or woman?”

“You are impertinent, Raymond,” snapped the Prince.

“I was merely curious, your Highness.”

“The fact is,” continued the Prince, full of steely arrogance, “I have never laid eyes on any man or woman who could be deemed worthy of my attentions.”

“Is that so?”

“I have always known that one day I would be required to provide the kingdom with a son and heir, but when that day comes, my bride must needs be the greatest beauty in the world.”

“Then you are as yet a virgin, my Lord? Is that not ... somewhat frustrating for a virile man such as you? Are you never tempted ... to relieve your undoubted sexual urges?”

“We may of necessity be cell mates, Raymond. But this conversation is straying into the realms of sacrilege.”

“My apologies, my Lord. I meant no disrespect.”

Felix turned his piercing blue eyes on him. “I’m no fool. I know you desire me. I’ve felt your manhood harden when we have wrestled. And I know you hope one day to conquer me in the bedroom. Let me inform you now, that that will never happen. I am God’s anointed and the very notion that I could ever share any kind of sexual encounter with a commoner like you is both repugnant and absurd. And if the treasonous Alexander Courcey were to attempt such a thing, well, Odin and Ulfgar may not be able to save me, but I know that God would intervene to protect me. Now, I am going to try and get some sleep. I suggest you do the same.”

And the Prince tried his best to make a bed for himself in the damp straw, his sodden tights outlining the perfect muscularity of his arse and thighs. Raymond’s expression was impenetrable, but there was far less certainty in his mind that divine intervention would prevent the Prince’s virginity being yielded up to Alexander in the not too distant future...

The sun rose, and Will slogged on. He had not dared pause all night: the one thought in his mind to put as much distance between him and the gang of robbers. He must have covered several miles of woodland and glade, and now he found himself desperately in need of a drink. He emerged from a small scrub of trees and saw that he had arrived on the outskirts of what seemed to be a moderately large estate. Various stone buildings nestled together, surrounded by walled allotments. Chickens pecked at their morning feed and a duckpond glistened in the morning sunlight.

A tall, middle aged man with a long face and grey hair, dressed in a long brown robe, was tending some vegetables in the allotment. He looked up and spotted Will by the wall. Will tensed and made to flee, acutely aware that he must look deeply suspicious: a grubby, bruised urchin dressed in only a rich fur cloak and too-big boots.

“No! Wait!” called the gardener. “I mean you no harm.”

Will hesitated. His trust in strange men had been sorely tested over the past year.

“This is a monastery,” the man continued. “We tend to the sick and the unfortunate. You need tell me no more than you wish to. But at least come inside and have a drink and something to eat.”

Will’s hunger and thirst overcame his suspicion. Nodding his head, he accepted the invitation.

The man’s name was Brother Ralf. As he led Will into the kitchen, he explained that he and his fellow monks spent their days in religious contemplation. Only a handful of them remained now, as even they had not been spared the forced conscription to fight in the King’s foreign war. Also living in the monastery were a dozen or so novice monks who were discovering whether God’s path was truly for them. These young men were under the pastoral care and tutelage of the Abbot.

Will fell gratefully onto the bread, cheese and water provided by Brother Ralf, and once he had sated himself, a silence fell and he realised that the monk was waiting for him to tell his story. Will was brief and opted to reveal the minimum amount of information. He told Brother Ralf that he had grown up on a farm, and that a year ago he had been taken to serve as a page boy at Castle Montford. He deliberately omitted any details of what had happened to him during his time in service at the castle: reliving the explicit sexual humiliation to which he had been subjected to this kindly-faced religious man would have been excruciating in the extreme! He told Brother Ralf that he had been returned to his family for a brief while, and that, subsequently, he had been kidnapped and held hostage by a gang of thieves, but that he had managed to escape and was currently on the run from them.

The monk listened in silence to his tale. For a moment, Will panicked that he had been foolish in saying anything at all: would the monk be tempted to betray him to Lunk and his cronies, out of greed or fear? But then he looked more closely at the sad look on Brother Ralf’s face and was reassured that he could indeed trust the cleric.

“You are welcome to seek sanctuary here for as long as you need it, my son,” said the monk. “You say you once worked as a farmhand, and you also have experience serving the nobility at the castle. If you are prepared to help out in our daily household chores, you will not find this an unpleasant place to live.”

Will did not need long to make up his mind. For the first time in over a year, maybe in his entire life, he was master of his own destiny. He was not interested in a life devoted to God, but, for a while at least, he would gladly accept the opportunity for a more peaceful existence. Unlike Prince Felix, Raymond, Lunk, his brother Jack or, yes, even the suave and saturnine Alexander Courcey, Brother Ralf showed no sign of wanting to bully, torment or use him sexually. And for that he was most grateful.

“Thank you, Sir,” said Will simply, his blond fringe falling in front of his deep brown eyes. “I accept your offer.”

The monk smiled and rested his hand on Will’s shoulder, his eyebrow raised as he appreciated the rich quality of the fur cloak. “I suspect this garment may have been acquired through somewhat dubious means,” he remarked, “I think we should find you more suitable, attire, don’t you?”

Will could not help but compare his welcome at the monastery to his arrival at Castle Montford. He remembered the way Master Yorick, the old rogue, had manhandled him into a bath and with soapy, slippery fingers had groped his vulnerable, naked arse. He thought back to having his cock and balls encased in the leather cock ring, and then that awe-inspiring moment when those freshly-laundered, skin-tight and oh so soft and silky blue tights were pulled over his feet and muscular legs, leaving him feeling so naughtily aroused.

His cock began to leak at the memory as he stood naked in the small chamber into which Brother Ralf had led him. Naturally, the hated cock cage prevented Will’s penis from becoming erect. The monk had left him alone, and so this time, he was not observed undressing. For this he was thankful. He did not want to have to explain the presence of the metal chastity device to him.

Will picked up the long brown monk’s habit that Brother Ralf had left draped over the chair. He pulled on the hessian robe, tied it at the waist with a knotted cord, and stepped into the leather sandals the monk had provided for him. He could almost hear Master Alexander’s voice dripping with scorn: “It’s a crime to cover up that tight little body with such a shapeless sack as that! You should be put in tights, lad, and made to expose every contour of that gorgeous, plump, peachy bum for my pleasure...”

Will shook his head at the memory, and, as he did from time to time, found himself wondering whether his former master had indeed managed to flee to safety on the Continent. One day he hoped he would find out, just for curiosity’s sake. He wondered whether Alexander ever found himself thinking of him: the young lad he had plucked from nowhere, used and abused for his pleasure, and who had risked his life to save his. Somehow Will doubted it. If Alexander were still alive, he felt sure, there would be some other sexy slutboy bound and gagged and at his mercy. He felt a pang. Of what? Envy? Regret? In an instant, he suppressed it. Alexander was in the past. And he now had to look to his future.

It was gone midday by the time Ebony the thief finally awoke. He grimaced. His mouth tasted like a stable floor and his head pounded in the autumn sunlight. On all fours, he crawled over to the water trough and plunged his head beneath the scummy surface. The cold water was a shock, but at least it took his mind off the thudding session in his brain.

Squinting, he glanced around the barn. The others were all still asleep, snoring noisily. Lunk was lying there motionless. And there was something about his particular stillness that seemed odd. Ebony dragged himself over to his gang leader. Lunk’s mouth gaped open, but, curiously, no breath escaped from it. Ebony lifted that massive, ugly head. A wound gaped at the back of Lunk’s skull, and it was covered in sticky, black, congealed blood. In a split second, Ebony realised what must have happened the night before. He had watched as Lunk, brawling with his cronies, had slipped on the beer-sodden floor. At the time, everyone had assumed he had passed out with drunkenness, but in truth, he must have struck the back of his head on this jagged rock. The blow had been fatal. Lunk, the gigantic terroriser of Dunchester, was dead.

In truth, Ebony could feel no remorse at this unexpected turn of events. Lunk had been a useful ally – and one no man in his right mind would dare cross. But with Lunk out of the way, Ebony could definitely see possibilities for himself. Almost inevitably, his mind turned to the pretty piece of ass that Lunk had protectively dubbed his “pet”.

And there of course, he was met with his second shock of the day.

“That little bastard!” he muttered to himself. “He’s got away!”