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 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 51 - The Puppet Prince

The smell was sharp and pungent. That was the first thing he noticed: and it came as a sharp shock to his senses. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and his befuddled brain tried to make sense of where and indeed who he was. His vision was blurred, but the facts of his predicament came to him. He was lying on a bed, he was topless and his sole item of clothing was a pair of bright red tights.

He tried to move his arm, and at that moment, he felt a tugging sensation pulling first one, and then the other arm taut.

“What the Hell?!” he cried, as his vision finally swam into focus.

“Ah, our handsome Prince has awoken at last,” cooed the gloating Alexander Courcey. “And not before time. How good of your Highness to grace us with his august presence!”

Felix, fired up with sudden indignation, tried to struggle, but the ropes at his wrists, plus another wrapped around his waist and two more at his ankles, prevented any kind of movement. Suddenly, he became aware of a strange gloopy wetness adhering to his forehead and dribbling down his face.

Alexander grinned as the Prince’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Your erstwhile servant, young Raymond here, has been busy whilst you slumbered, your Highness. Mere moments ago, he was looming over you, his rock-hard cock hanging out of the front of his tights, whilst he sprayed his boy spunk over your hunky body. I imagine you can feel it drying even now on your face and chest. Cum can be rather itchy when it dries, don’t you find?”

“Raymond! How dare you?!” exploded the disgusted Prince.

“Don’t be too hard on him. He was only doing as he was ordered. Although I fancy he did not find it too much of an ordeal. But his Highness is right, Raymond. You really should clear up your mess. Come over here.”

Felix turned his head and, for the first time, he saw Raymond lurking in the corner. Like him, Raymond was also bare-chested and clad only in his silver hose. Clearly Alexander had regarded both lads’ fine doublets surplus to requirements.

“I wasn’t particularly impressed by your prowess at licking up that custard from the floor of the Great Hall the other day,” observed Alexander. “It seems to me that you require further practice. After all, I may decide that your new role in life is to clean the castle top to toe – using only your tongue.”

Raymond swallowed instinctively, suppressing the overwhelming urge to fly at Alexander and knee him in his vulnerable, tights-covered groin.

“Hop up onto the bed again, my lad. And let’s see you lick your own cum off Prince Felix’s chest.”

Reluctance and distaste were etched across the dark young man’s face, but he knew he was outmanoeuvred, and he had no choice but to bend over the Prince’s body, and prepare to taste his own salty semen. Raymond planted his palms either side of the Prince’s naked chest and lowered his face to begin his unpleasant task. As he did so, his tights-covered crotch could not help but come to linger against Felix’s own silken bulge. An erotic thrill shot through him as their genitals made contact. And in spite of only just having emptied his load, Raymond’s meat began to stiffen once more.

“Get on with it,” snapped Alexander impatiently. “We have many more games to play and I don’t have all day!”

Raymond stuck out his tongue and tentatively began to lap at the rope of cum criss-crossing Felix’s washboard abdominals.

“Oh, and one more thing, lad! You’re not to swallow any of it. I want you to hold your cum in your mouth for now, you understand?!”

Raymond could only nod his acquiescence, although it was easier said than done, to try and prevent any of the semen slipping down his gullet. He had never acquired a liking for the taste of cum, and even though it was his own, he found the flavour of the now tepid fluid distinctly unpleasant.

“That’s it boy, suck up your own emissions... You’ve missed a blob just there by his Highness’s left nipple...”

Prince Felix seethed. “I demand you wash me properly, Courcey! This is obscene!”

“You never learn do you? You will be silent unless spoken to, Prince Bitch! Or I swear I’ll have you gagged.”

For once, Felix elected to do as he was told, and Raymond began licking around the Prince’s tit. The flesh was clearly sensitive, and Raymond could not resist brushing the nipple with his sharp white teeth.

“Ow!” yelled the Prince. “You bit me, you dolt!”

Raymond – cheeks bulging – glanced up fearfully. Alexander merely smirked.

“Your mouth is pretty full, now Raymond, isn’t it? Your cum mixed with your saliva. Ha! I can see the white liquid starting to dribble from your lips. Very well, you may now rid yourself of the fluid. And you are to empty it into the Prince’s mouth...”

Felix took an intake of breath, but before he had chance to protest, Raymond had done as he was ordered and dribbled a large globule of spittle and semen in between the Prince’s pink, perfect, pouting lips.

Quick as a flash, Alexander was at the head of the bed, where he gripped the Prince’s nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Swallow it!” commanded the Steward. “Swallow your servant’s spunk!”

Felix coughed and sputtered, but he was left with no choice – and eventually the cum-laced saliva slipped down his royal throat.

“How did that taste? Rather a contrast to the venison and champagne that your palate has grown accustomed to, I imagine? Although I’ve always opined that the taste of boy cum does bear the slightest resemblance to caviar...”

Felix gagged as he ingested the concoction.

“Maybe we’ll leave the cum on your face as a moisturiser,” mused Alexander. “It’s a nicely humiliating reminder of your new lowly position.”

His tone of voice became sterner. “You can get off the bed now, Raymond. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to grind your dick against the Prince’s, you little slut. Christ Almighty, I know you’ve been lusting after him for months but you’ve only just wanked over him. Are you fucking insatiable?! Go and stand in the corner until I decide what to do with you next.”

Raymond regretfully did as he was told, and Felix gritted his teeth as Alexander languidly came to sit beside him on the bed. Master Courcey stretched his long, purple legs out in front of him, and gazed down at the Prince’s beautiful, bound body. He tugged experimentally at one of the ropes attached to the Prince’s ankle, causing that beautiful, muscular, leg to jerk involuntarily. It looked as if Felix’s legs had been sprayed red, so tight were his tights – and the bound young man’s breathing was quick and shallow: betraying a mixture of fury and fear.

“You will not break me, Courcey,” vowed the Prince. “I have royal blood in me. Whatever depraved or disgusting act you might perpetrate upon me, I shall not grovel before you. I promise you that. And each new indignity ensures only that your charge sheet grows longer, and that your death, when it comes as it most surely will, will be more excruciating than you could ever begin to imagine.”

“An impressive speech, my lad. But I might take you more seriously if you were in a slightly more powerful position, and not spread-eagled in my bed chamber, tied up in an extremely revealing pair of scarlet tights, with another slaveboy’s dried cum splattered all over your face...”

Felix drew a breath but before he could speak, Alexander had placed his palm over the Prince’s mouth.

“You talk too much, Prince Pricktease. I’ve warned you once about the gag. I shan’t warn you again.”

Alexander smiled as Felix seemed to think better of issuing a retort. “You see – even the least promising of students can learn under my tutelage. Now, we were speaking of humiliating reminders, were we not? Raymond! Fetch that casket from the dressing table!”

Raymond found the velvet-covered box and brought it to Alexander. Master Courcey snapped open the clasp and withdrew from it: “A slave collar! Although as you’ll see this is a very special slave collar. Only the best for you, my Lord! The finest, supplest black leather, studded with gold and rubies. Red, red rubies. The colour of your tights – and the colour of whores! Which is most appropriate given what is in store for you, little Prince Pricktease!”

Felix, in spite of himself, remembered Alexander’s threat about the gag and stayed silent.

“Raymond, let’s see this fine jewelled collar strapped around his Highness’s throat!”

Raymond’s nimble fingers worked quickly, threading the thick collar around Felix’s muscular neck, even as the Prince glared at him.

“Feels humiliating, I bet – being collared like a dog by your former servant, no matter how pretty and glittering the adornment? And yet you’ve always enjoyed pretty adornments, haven’t you, my little Prince? I can see your muscles tense in fury – your strong pectorals, your thighs in your tights bunching at the humiliation. But you’re totally powerless – nothing you can do to stop me degrading you in any fashion I see fit. What a shame. What a damned shame.”

Raymond watched in fascination as Alexander goaded the Prince. He could tell it was taking all of Felix’s willpower not to spit directly in the Steward’s face.

“Now, my lad. I do believe you’re about to enjoy this experience a whole lot more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember all those months ago when you lured me to your bedchamber with the offer of me using you as my slavebitch? You ground your crotch against my hand with all the practised ease of a Dunchester whore. You promised me your body that day, young Felix. And I have come to claim what I was promised.

“You see those bottles sitting on the shelf over there?” Alexander continued. “They are all powerful potions. The first I used to knock you out. The second to revive you, but the third... Ah the third is the best one. That will, with the merest sniff, drive a man with even the most humdrum and conventional of libidos, into a frenzy of lust. And by happy coincidence, this handkerchief I have here has been liberally doused in that very concoction!”

There was no time for Felix to react before the square of cloth was rammed against his face. He tried to resist, to hold his breath, anything. He knew from past experience, how powerful and overwhelming the concoction was. He tried to avoid inhaling the evil brew, oh how he tried, but pinioned in position as he was, all he could do was thrash his limbs about in protest. He fought with his naked arms and his hosed legs, but Alexander’s grip was strong, and very soon, his strength evaporated as his mind and body were flooded with lust.

Satisfied that his royal victim had inhaled a sufficient dose, Alexander removed the handkerchief. Felix gazed upwards through the fug in his mind as the Steward savoured his moment of triumph. He looked like a wolf about to devour his prey. Alexander licked his lips, and lurched forwards.

Felix’s heart pounded. His blood raced round his body as his new master sank into him. He smelt the scent of the man first: traces of cologne mixed with the heady aroma of fresh perspiration. The Steward was clearly excited at the prospect of having the Prince at his mercy. Felix tried to fight the intoxicating allure of the potion which drew him inexorably to the heat of another human being – any other human – in order to satisfy the rising tide of lust within him. But his cock seemed to have a mind of its own. And even though he knew it was due to the evil effects of the potion, he felt a desperate flush of shame as his cock began to harden. Without having to look, he felt his swelling dick rise and tent within the tight red constriction of his hose.

It took all the effort Felix could muster to try and fight the poison in his veins and turn his head away from Alexander Courcey’s lips. But the Steward was having none of that! He grabbed the Prince’s square jaw in his unrelenting grasp and, without any further hesitation, planted a long kiss on Felix’s mouth.

Felix tried to clamp his mouth shut to avoid Alexander’s long probing tongue, but the older man would not be dissuaded from his goal. Felix felt the soft black bristles of Alexander’s beard brush against his tanned, flawless skin. Even through the haze of lust, he bridled at the weirdly obscene intimacy of being taken and kissed by another man: the combination of masculinity as Alexander’s strong arms held him down. Indeed it was if Alexander himself had partaken of the potion, such was the intensity of his ardour. His moist lips worked at those of the Prince, smothering him so that Felix was left barely able to breathe, as if he would suck the very life essence out of the young man.

His tongue swirled inside the Prince’s mouth, their lips pressed ardently together. He was a good kisser, that much was true, and he seemed to know all the right buttons to push in order to work on and increase Felix’s burgeoning libido.

Then, at some strange and indeterminate moment, rather than fighting him, the Prince gave into the insistent onslaught and began to respond: the potion driving him on in a frenzy of long, deep, passionate kisses.

Raymond, forgotten about in the corner of the room, looked on longingly: how he wished he might be invited to join the masculine orgy on the bed. Instead, he had to make do with only his own hand to rub at his tights-clad groin.

On went Alexander, licking, lapping, slobbering at the defenceless beauty he had so efficiently trussed up. He could have gone on kissing that stunning, chiselled face of hours. Especially as the intoxicated Prince was now panting in response. But Alexander reminded himself that he had other plans for his newest slave victim.

He stepped back to admire the sight of the young Prince. A dastardly grin spread across his face.

“Now, your highness, I think it’s about time I made you a little less comfortable. After all we can’t have you lazing about in your tights in bed all day, can we?”

“Wha-?” mumbled the Prince, still flushed from the after effects of the potion. Alexander’s saliva lying wet across his cheek.

But Alexander’s meaning became apparent all too soon. The Steward grasped the free ends of the cluster of ropes, dangling from the pulley system on the ceiling, and, slowly but surely, he began to tug. Felix looked around him wildly as all at once, his arms and legs began to rise into the air.

Then, in a sudden and unexpected movement, Alexander let the rope go and the Prince’s legs dropped a little. Instead, the Steward selected another cord and began to jerk this - the rope fixed to Felix’s right arm.

“Like a marionette!” crowed Alexander. “My little puppet Prince. A beautiful doll for me to play with and manipulate! I can make your arms go up in the air like this! Or I can send them plummeting to the counterpane! I can pull your strings and send your legs flying into the sky – and then I can yank – yank – yank them so that they are spread as wide as they can go! Shall we try that, eh? Pulling those divinely muscled legs of yours apart so they’re stretched in delicious tights bondage?”

Felix was powerless as Alexander demonstrated the range of positions he was capable of forcing him into. And then, once he had tired of this little game, Alexander made his adjustments carefully to ensure that each of the Prince’s limbs were indeed stretched as far and as wide as they would go. He tied off the end of the ropes, and he purred with satisfaction at the sight of Felix’s muscular legs, encased in their figure-hugging scarlet tights, pulled apart, toes pointing to the ceiling, the groin and ass left vulnerably and enticingly available…

“Are you ticklish, I wonder, my puppet Prince? Raymond – come here! I can see you’re itching to get your hands on the Prince’s body once more. Here are the soles of the royal feet – only that thin layer of stretchy fabric to protect them. Show our captive here just how you can torment his stockinged feet!”

Raymond did not need to be asked twice. Alexander repositioned himself at the Prince’s head, handkerchief in hand, and administered another dose of potion to the trussed up royal.

Once more Felix fought the aroma, but once more it transported him to a heavenly Hell of sexual desire.

“You look so beautiful like this, your Highness,” remarked Alexander. “It is indeed a shame that you cannot see your own predicament. Let us remedy that!”

And with a flourish, the devilish Steward ripped the drapes from the chamber’s walls to reveal that every surface – even the ceiling – was now covered with mirrors. Felix could not avoid the sight of himself in his degrading and inescapable bondage: his arms, biceps bulging, pulled tight away from his chest and straining towards the ceiling, his scarlet legs tugged in opposite directions and spread wide like a common slut. His beautiful face, smeared with his own servant’s white cum, and red with exertion and the effects of the poison, stared back at him. And this image was reflected in every surface – over and over. There was simply no avoiding the sight of his own humiliation. And mortifyingly, the mind-altering effect of the potion changed even his response to the image.

In spite of himself, he found himself becoming aroused by the sight of his own tights-clad legs, his peachy arse bulging in his hose. His narcissism manifested itself through the mist of the poison and began to work against him. He was beautiful, and in bondage, his muscles straining, he could see what a gorgeous animal he was. And he understood how his beauty could not help but drive those around him mad with lust. Unluckily for him, he was entirely at the mercy of such a man.

He felt Raymond’s hands on his legs, roaming up and down, sliding against the soft silkiness of his tights, teasing and tickling his calves and the soles of his feet. He kicked his legs to try and avoid the torment, but there was no escape. The tickling went on and on and on, just as Alexander pushed the handkerchief harder against his face.

It seemed to last forever, and still there was no avoiding the punishment. All the while, Alexander’s mocking laughter rang in his ears.

After what seemed an eternity, the Steward appeared to decide that Raymond had had enough fun. Felix watched, hysterical and exhausted, as Alexander moved to the end of the bed, slapped Raymond’s round backside with a ‘thwack!’ and ordered him back into the corner of the room.

The Steward paused dramatically as he came to stand at the end of the bed.

“And now we come to the crux of the matter, do we not, your Highness? That most intimate, most private and taboo of spots. The place where no man has gone before – the royal arsehole.”

Felix blanched.

“Now don’t look so surprised. Why on earth do you think you were administered a powerful laxative last night? It was to purge you of any, shall we say, extraneous matter? I have no desire to wallow in your shit, not matter how royally divine you may consider it. And as you are now cleaned inside and out, our fun can begin in earnest.”

Chapter 50 - The Sleeping Beauty

“They’ve forgotten about us, haven’t they?! Those treasonous swine have locked us up and forgotten about us!”

The Prince’s voice practically screeched with incredulity.

“Given that if they remember us, they might choose to slit our throats,” remarked Raymond drily, “I’m actually rather glad to be forgotten.”

The past three days had seemed like an eternity for the curly-haired youth. Prince Felix was not, by any stretch of the imagination, the ideal cellmate. The two young men remained shackled to the dungeon walls in their dirty tights. They had been fed and watered, forced to use the latrine in the corner of the cell, and, unceremoniously, ignored.

The sound of the key in the lock heralded the arrival of their evening meal. The rugged Sir Antony ushered in skinny young Mortimer who carried a tray of greasy stew. Lumps of fatty mutton bobbed in the congealing liquid.

Prince Felix turned up his nose. “I’m not eating that,” he pronounced with a sniff.

“You are a prisoner of his Lordship,” Sir Antony informed him blandly, “and you will eat what you are given. If you want me to hold your nose and tip it down your throat, then so be it.”

Mortimer carried the tray over to the Prince, who begrudgingly took the moderately more appealing of the two bowls.

“No, Prince Felix,” said Sir Antony. “The Chief Steward informs me that you are to partake of the other one.”

Felix turned pale. “Ah, so it has come to this, has it? I am to be poisoned like some plague-infested rat?”

“Alexander has not taken me into his confidence, but I understand that Lord Geoffrey wants you to remain alive for the time being.”

The Prince looked at Sir Antony with defiance. “Give me the bowl. I would rather meet my maker than be subjected to the perverted whims of Alexander Courcey!”

Gagging as he did so, the Prince forced himself to eat the stew. His rumbling belly protested, and Antony smiled knowingly as the final dregs of the meal disappeared.

“Well done, your highness,” he said. “Now, we shall bid you a good night and the most pleasant of dreams...”

And with that, he and Mortimer left the prisoners alone.

It was a long and uncomfortable night for them both.

It seemed that Sir Antony’s assurances were true. Felix’s supper was not poisoned. Instead it had been laced with a powerful laxative, which meant the unfortunate Prince spent the whole night running back and forth to the latrine in the corner of the cell.

Raymond sighed as the Prince cursed the vile and traitorous Alexander. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Felix’s bowels seemed to calm a little, and Raymond fell into a fitful slumber.

It must have been late morning. Raymond’s ears pricked up as he heard the key being turned in the door of the dungeon. Sir Antony and Sir Dominic strode into the cell: knowing smirks illuminating their square jaws.

“Master Courcey has summoned the two of you to his chambers,” Sir Antony informed them.

Prince Felix groaned from the corner of the cell. “Tell him he’ll have to wait. I’m spent. I’ve not slept all night thanks to that foul stew he fed me.”

“It’s a summons, not a request, your Highness,” said Sir Dominic sardonically.

“He does want you cleaned up first though,” added Sir Antony.

“Really?” asked Raymond suspiciously.

“Indeed. Master Alexander is a sensitive man. Your current state would offend his delicate sense of smell...”

Reinstalled in his own luxurious chambers, Alexander was thoroughly at home once more. God, it felt good to be back where he truly belonged. The months of uncertainty, incarceration and fugitive flight were finally at an end, and he was in charge again. The past few days had been spent assisting Lord Geoffrey in re-establishing some kind of order after the chaos of the Prince’s rule. And now – finally – he could allow himself some leisure time.

He looked at the three corked bottles that sat before him on his oak dressing table. On this occasion, he had instructed the old witch to brew up a variety of potions, and to differentiate the three of them, affixed to each vial was a scrap of parchment indicating what would occur to whoever inhaled from each brew. The first read “To induce unconsciousness”; the second “To revivify”; and the last simply read “Lust”.

Of course, this final brew was one he had ordered from the old crone many times over the years. He toyed briefly with the idea of taking a draught of it now, and his cock, coiled and nestling expectantly in his purple hose, began to stiffen at the thought. His balls hung swollen and heavy with cum, and his tights bulged.

It had been nearly a week since he’d had any sexual release. He’d been working so hard that there had not even been time for a quick wank to relieve himself. How tempting to inhale the potion now and manipulate his prick through the sensous satin of his hosiery and leak his white man juice into the gusset of his tights... But instead he restrained himself. Ultimately, it would be sweeter to prolong his frustration. He had dreamed of this opportunity for a long time. And now it was nearly upon him, he was absolutely determined to make the most of it.

There was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” he called, as he casually moved his beringed hand from his crotch.

“I have the prisoners, Master Alexander,” came Sir Antony’s voice.

“Excellent. Bring them in.”

The door swang open and Alexander turned to survey the newcomers. The strapping Sir Antony, broadsword in hand, entered: no attempt to conceal the grin upon his sunburnt features.

Behind him came Raymond. As per Alexander’s instructions, he had been cleaned up and was now a positive paradigm of perfumed spotlessness. His dark curls were glossy and sleek, his cheeks had been freshly shaved and he was now dressed in a fine grey doublet, slashed down the chest and sleeves to reveal rich black satin beneath. Naturally, the doublet rested above the waist, and from his hips to his feet he wore luxurious silver hose, his package a modest bulge. On his feet were black buckled pumps.

The chastened youth caught Alexander’s eye and tried to convey a mixture of subjugation and camaraderie, as if in that instant he hoped to undo the mischief he had caused and that the older man would both forgive and forget. Alexander returned the lad’s gaze, but he said nothing and his expression gave nothing away.

Behind Raymond, and as surely as the sun follows the moon, came his royal highness, the recently deposed Prince Felix of England. It was an apposite comparison, for the blond youth’s face blushed red with fury just as Raymond’s was pale. Like Raymond, Felix’s hair – falling as ever to his shoulders in golden waves – was freshly washed. His broad and well-muscled torso was adorned with a rich crimson doublet, heavy with gold brocade. And his bulging thighs and calves were encased in a bright red pair of tights. The hosiery had been ingeniously interwoven with golden thread so that the Prince’s impressive legs seemed to shimmer. The eye was inevitably drawn to the spot where lay the royal prick: for now an anonymous swelling in the stretchy fabric. Alexander itched to tell the Prince to turn round so he could drink in the sight of those perfectly peachy buttocks within the scarlet hose. He denied himself that particular joy for the time being.

The Prince padded in, soft suede boots on his feet, followed by Sir Dominic, who also carried his naked sword in his hand.

“Did they comply with your instructions?” asked Alexander.

“Pretty much,” replied Sir Antony. “His Highness whinged a little as he is wont to do. But they appreciated the opportunity to wash and clothe themselves.”

“Although,” added Sir Dominic with a grin, “I think the Prince slightly misunderstood and thought it meant he was being restored to his old position.”

Alexander gave an amused grunt as he watched the Prince seethe.

“You have served me admirably, my friends,” he said. “And you have my eternal gratitude. That will be all I require of you for now.”

The two knights looked a little crestfallen. “Will you be safe alone with the two of them?” asked Sir Antony.

“Have no fear. I can cope with two young pups like these. You may send a guard to wait outside my chamber door if you are truly concerned.”

The knights withdrew, their reluctance, Alexander felt quite sure, principally due to their expectation that they would at least witness, and perhaps even participate, in whatever debauched activity he had in mind for the Prince and his companion.

Felix flicked a glance to Raymond as the door slammed shut behind Antony and Dominic. Was this their opportunity to escape? Raymond responded with a barely perceptible shake of his head. The castle was crawling with Lord Geoffrey’s guards, and the two of them were hardly inconspicuous. How far did he think they would get?

“So, gentlemen,” purred Alexander, “after all this time, I finally have the two of you all to myself. How shall we pass the afternoon, I wonder? A game of backgammon perhaps? Or shall we take our horses and hunt in the forest? Would that amuse you, your highness?”

“I have nothing to say to you, you cur,” spat the Prince. “You will have your punishment both on earth and in heaven for the way you have treated me. And each outrage you commit against my royal person merely adds to the tally sheet.”

Alexander did not reply, but instead took a plain white handkerchief from the pouch on his belt and unstoppered the first of the witch’s potions. He doused the fabric liberally with the liquid and, quick as a flash, he was behind the Prince. He clasped the Prince’s body with one arm, and, with his free hand, he pressed the soaked handkerchief to the young man’s nose.

At once, Felix began to struggle.

“What evil is this?!” came his muffled cry.

“Mmm,” said Alexander. “I like to feel you struggle like that. Yes, you carry on. I’m grinding my hosed cock against the juicy, ample mounds of your bum. And every protesting move you make, tights against tights, serves only to turn me on and make my prick even harder!”

Raymond watched impotently as Felix, eyes bulging, writhed in the taller man’s crushing embrace. He could not help but be aroused at the sight of the beautiful Prince’s legs – looking as if they were painted scarlet so tight were his hose – thrashed and kicked. By rights, it should have been a more even struggle. Whilst Alexander was taller and leaner, Felix was more muscular and he was also a good fifteen years younger than Master Courcey.

“Breathe deeply, my pretty Prince Prick-tease!” whispered Alexander in Felix’s ear. “For soon you will sink into a dreamless slumber!”

The Prince’s eyes widened over the top of the handkerchief as, too late, he realised that he had no hope of escape whilst he inhaled its noxious fumes. He made one last-ditch effort to free himself from Alexander’s grip, a desperate wrenching lunge, and as he did so took a gulp of air. With that, the aroma finally overpowered him, and he slumped into Alexander’s arms.

“That’s it, boy, you have a nice sleep,” cooed the Steward as he cradled the Prince’s limp form against him. Smartly and efficiently, Alexander lifted the young man in his arms, his jewelled palm brushing against Felix’s shapely tights-clad thigh: and the feeling of hard muscle through the sensous, clinging fabric sent a thrill of lust through Alexander’s body.

He carried the unconscious Prince through into the bedchamber, pausing briefly to instruct Raymond: “Come with me.”

Nervous, but intrigued, Raymond did as he was told and stood obediently as Alexander carelessly let the comatose Adonis slip from his grasp and bounce onto the bed. The Steward took a moment to contemplate that Sleeping Beauty – scarlet legs akimbo – lying there entirely at his mercy.

For his part, Raymond could not help but be assailed by memories of this bedchamber. It was here, as a naive sixteen year old, that he, manacled and gagged, his tights pulled down to his ankles, had lost his virginity to Alexander. That occurrence had been repeated in every imaginable submissive permutation and humiliating position over the next few years, whilst the ambitious Raymond had consoled himself with the certainty that he might be the powerful man’s pet but at least he was his favourite pet.

This was the room where he had been put in charge of that conniving little upstart, Will, but also the place he had been cheated of his victory in the kinky ass-stuffing contest between him and the blond page boy, which had seen him banished to the vile Sir Wilfrid’s rooms. And of course – up until only a few days ago – these plushly furnished chambers had belonged to him. The chair in the corner still had its red velvet cushion, slightly smeared with the bananas Raymond had forced up Alexander’s ass. How far away that particular power play seemed now.

As if sensing Raymond’s thoughts, Alexander clicked his fingers at him.

“Strip his Highness of his doublet!”

Raymond knew better than to question an order, especially one issued in that tone of voice. He scurried to the bed and bent over the prone form of his former master, even as his new overlord planted a smart Slap! on his grey hosed buttocks.

“Get on with it, bitch. I don’t have much patience with you, you’ll be surprised to learn...”

Raymond’s mind raced as he fumbled at the finicky buttons on the Prince’s velvet doublet. How long did Alexander plan to keep Felix unconscious, and what precisely did he intend to do to him whilst he was in this condition? It was curious. Raymond had always thought that a big part of the turn on for his kinky master had been to provoke conflicting emotions in his submissive victims: the delicate contrast between sexual arousal and extreme humiliation. Would he achieve the same satisfaction if his sex slave were completely unaware of what was being done to him? He supposed all would be revealed soon enough.

Doublet removed, the Prince lay there on his back in peaceful oblivion, his smooth, muscled chest now naked and exposed.

“Take his boots off,” said Alexander curtly.

Raymond mumbled a “yes, Sir,” and hurried to the other end of the bed. A couple of tugs, and the suede boots were flung on the floor, leaving the Prince with his figure-hugging, glittering red tights as his sole remaining item of clothing.

Alexander looked at the dark haired youth. “There he lies, Raymond. Insensible and ignorant of what might happen to him. What shall we do with him, I wonder?”

Raymond hesitated. Was Alexander speaking rhetorically?

But Alexander clearly was not as unprepared as he had suggested. Reaching under the bed, he fetched various lengths of rope, and, moving swiftly, he tossed one rope across the Prince’s waist and fastened it securely beneath the bed. Then he attached two pieces of similar length to Felix’s wrists, and a further two were tied around his hosed ankles.

Alexander checked that the ropes were knotted well, and then he passed the end of each through the convenient metal rings that he had long ago screwed into the ceiling of his bedchamber. Then he stretched them along an ingenious pulley system, which left the free ends of each rope dangling in the air. For now, however, Alexander left the ropes hang slack.

He looked at Raymond and raised an eyebrow sardonically. “So, young Master StClare. Here we are. A fine situation, eh? And one I feel quite sure we have both been dreaming of for some time. That gorgeous peacock, Prince Felix, lies quite at our mercy. What are we to do with him?”

Raymond looked at the older man with incredulity. Was Alexander actually making him complicit and giving him permission to take advantage of the slumbering Prince? His heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, don’t get too excited, my lad,” chuckled Alexander. “It’s not like I’m going to let you fuck him or anything. You’ve really done nothing to earn that kind of reward. Far from it. But if you promise to do as you’re told, I might let you wank over him.”

Raymond hesitated.

“No it’s not a trick,” the Steward went on. “Slip off those leather pumps and climb onto the bed.”

Raymond did as he had been instructed, and, in his stockinged feet, clambered up onto the counterpane.

“Let’s see whether you can cum to order,” said Alexander, “and how good your aim is. Stand there, upright, one foot either side of our insensible young royal’s hosed hips. You have two minutes to orgasm. And I want to see your hot white jism spattering all over that broad chest and beautiful, chiselled face. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear, Sir,” said Raymond determinedly. His cock was already rock hard at the sight of the beautiful Prince lying knocked out at his feet.

Alexander made himself comfortable in a leather armchair. He picked up a small hourglass from the table next to him, and inverted it. “You may begin!”

With no time to lose, Raymond slipped his hand inside the waistband of his grey tights and began to pump away at his penis.

“Good lad,” purred Alexander, as he. “I bet that makes you feel really horny, doesn’t it? Standing proud and masterful in your tights, towering over that prime piece of royal meat. You could do anything to him now and he’d be completely clueless. He’s like a doll: a lifeless object for your pleasure. Wank fodder for you to use and abuse. Go on, unbutton that fine doublet of yours and play with your tits. I want you to get me excited too...”

Raymond did not need to be told twice. How long had he fantasised about dominating Prince Felix and wiping that arrogant smirk off his handsome face? He squeezed his pert nipple, sending a little thrill of pleasure and pain across his chest. He withdrew his hand from his hose briefly to spit into his palm, and then returned to his crotch, lubricating the cockhead and making it even more sensitive to his touch.

“Stick your bum out, boy!” commanded Alexander. “I need to see that hosed arse pushed out nice and far as you play with yourself, you dirty little slut.” Naturally, he too was fondling himself: his own cock thick and tumescent within the tight constriction of his purple leggings.

Raymond did as he was told, his breathing heavy and his face tense as he gave himself up entirely to lustful thoughts of dominating the Prince. He looked down at that perfect body, and imagined the ropes at Felix’s wrists and ankles stretched taut – the muscles straining under the stress, and the pain and agony etched onto the golden young man’s face.

“Half of your time gone already, boy,” observed Alexander. “I hope you’re coming close. There’ll be trouble if you don’t climax in time...”

However, there seemed little fear of that, as Raymond grunted and sweated with sexual ardour. Up and down the shaft of his cock went his fist, and precum began to leak into the grey fabric of his hose.

“Better get that cock out of your tights, slut. I want your cum spattered all over the Prince’s body.”

“Yes, Sir,” panted Raymond, pulling his tights down to below his balls.

Alexander watched eagerly. As the final grains of sand slipped into the lower bulb of the hourglass, Raymond’s legs tensed, his face screwed up. A pulsing stream of hot white semen sprayed from his cock.

Splat! Splat! Splat!

The Prince was unceremoniously anointed with his former servant’s jism. A big globule landed on Felix’s bare chest and began to slide towards his pink nipples. Another couple of blobs fell on his stomach, and then, as a second wave of Raymond’s cum erupted from his dick, a perfectly aimed emission descended onto the Prince’s face, dropping in a thick trail from his forehead, across his closed eye, full pouting lips, and dripped off his chin.

Alexander rose from his chair and nodded approvingly at the post-orgasmed Raymond, panting and red faced, cock softening in his palm. He looked down on the blissfully unaware Prince, now covered in hot wet cum, rapidly drying on that divine body.

“I think it is time for our Sleeping Beauty to awaken...”