Chapter 22 - Jingle Bells

After his night in the kennel, Will was determined that he would not be the loser in the latest perverted challenge Prince Felix had invented for him and his fellows.

He had seen the way the Prince and his lackeys had treated the Steward. If they dared to do that to Lord Geoffrey’s right hand man, who knows what they would do to a peasant boy like him? If nothing else, Will had learned from Alexander what a man wants to see from a cute boy in tights, and so now he wasn’t slow to display his knowledge.

From the corner of the room, Ulfgar began a steady drum beat that made Will’s heart thud. As the drum pounded out its hypnotic beat, Will slowly started to push his ass out towards his eager audience. He imagined Alexander’s evil potion was coursing through his veins, encouraging him to be the tights-wearing slut he knew the Vikings wanted him to be.

He bent his knees so his ass stuck out even further, his hands resting on his hosed thighs and his head bowed, in a position of lustful submission.

“Stay on your stools, bitches!” ordered the Prince. “Any of you who fall will be penalised!”

This was easier said than done, thought Will. The stools were not particularly stable and the chamber’s floor was uneven. As he sashayed his butt from side to side, he risked a look at the other three young men. Mortimer was distinctly uncomfortable, making a half-hearted attempt to sway from side to side in a manner that was more ridiculous than erotic. Raymond meanwhile seemed to have switched into a different mode altogether and was contorting himself into a variety of erotic poses, tweaking his nipples, licking his lips and moaning suggestively. He teasingly ran his gloved hands up and down his pink, hosed thighs, and stroked his ass cheeks invitingly. Clearly this was where Will’s competition lay in this particular contest!

Suddenly, a clattering sound from behind him made them all turn – only for them to see that Humphrey had fallen from his stool and was sitting on the floor on his ample bottom, his lower lip trembling.

“Carry on, sluts!” called out the Prince. “Work those nubile young bodies for some real men!”

Will watched as Humphrey clambered gracelessly back on to the wobbling stool. Then Odin strode over to the undulating Raymond, and attached one brass bell to each of the page boy’s nipples. The pounding of Ulfgar’s drum joined with the tinkling of the bell, and the sound made Will double his efforts, determined not to lose to Raymond yet again.

  Taking his lead from his rival, Will knelt down on his stool, pushing his hosed bottom out, and reaching behind to spread his cheeks. Then he took one hand and smartly began to spank his tights-covered backside with his own hand. This seemed to be appreciated by the crude barbarian. Before long, he found his tits being fondled through the pink silk of his bodystocking as Odin clipped bells to each of them. The tiny jaws of the clip sank into Will’s boy nipples. He gasped at the stinging sensation, which made the Viking grin.

Will got on to his feet, the bells tinkling at his breast, placed his hands on his hips and began to thrust his groin back and forth. He pulled at the bells attached to him, causing him to gasp again at the painful sensation of his titties being stretched. He was rewarded with more bells: two attached to his balls, and a third clipped onto the head of his cock – inevitably rock hard through the satiny leotard.

The feeling of having tinkling bells attached to the most intimate and sensitive parts of his body served only to accentuate Will’s humiliation. He wriggled his hosed bum and the awareness of the bells made him feel sluttier and more objectified than ever.

What would his parents and his older brother think, he wondered, if they could see him now? Dressed head to toe in a clinging pink bodystocking, with just a gap for his face to peer through! Dancing for the sexual pleasure and arousal of two brutish bodyguards, with no thought for his own dignity or self- respect. His face flushed a deep red with the shame of what his time at the castle had brought him to.

“Enough!” called out Prince Felix. The drum-beat stopped in an instant, and Will froze in the obscenely sexual position he was currently adopting.

“Step down from your podia, worms, and we shall see who has been awarded the most bells – and who has the least.” He paused dramatically. “Well, it seems that our dark-haired worm has been the most alluring.”

Will looked over to see Raymond looking deeply smug: if indeed it is possible to look smug whilst wearing an all-in-one pink tights suit, with bells dangling from one’s ears, nipples, cock and balls. Meanwhile, Mortimer had somehow managed to secure one solitary bell, which dangled pitifully from his cockhead. Humphrey had none.

The fat boy’s devastated face said it all. Clearly the only thing on his mind was the prospect of going another day without food.

The Prince realised the same thing. “Don’t worry, my plump little worm. We would hardly be so unimaginative as to give you the same punishment two days running now, would we?”

Humphrey breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“No, Mistress Olwen shall have instructions to feed you as normal. Indeed, you will have a little supplement to your usual meal.”

Odin stepped forward with a long brown glass bottle, half full of some kind of cordial.

“This contains a powerful laxative,” growled the Viking. “I will administer it to you after you have eaten your evening meal. And I will make sure you drink every last drop.” He laughed at the boy’s desperate expression. “You’re going to have an explosive evening – and I don’t imagine you’re going to be getting much sleep either!”

Ulfgar joined in the laughter. And although Prince Felix’s lip curled, his delicacy offended by the thought of the page boy’s basest bodily functions, he clearly could not help but gain some sadistic pleasure from Humphrey’s obvious distress.

The day’s entertainment over, the four page boys were dismissed, although Will, Mortimer and Raymond were instructed to leave their decorative bells attached to whichever parts of their stockinged bodies they had been secured. The young men, jingling as they walked, hurried away from their torture chamber.

Odin looked towards his master, with lust and hunger in his eyes.

“What is it?” snapped the Prince. “Oh I see. You’re all fired up, now, are you? Imagining what you’d like to do with those slutty little bitches. Well we’ll see. Perhaps you will get some satisfaction.” He added airily, “If I decide you’ve deserved it.”

Odin gritted his teeth in a wide grin and bowed low before the Prince. “Your merest whim, is, as ever our command, your highness.”

“Quite,” sniffed the Prince. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

The pages had all the regular chores to perform around the castle: more so than ever, following the exodus of cleaners, maids and old faithful retainers. Those few who did remain gawped openly at the four lads in their unitards; bells jingling from cocks, balls and tits.

They arrived in the kitchen that evening to receive their meagre rations and Mistress Olwen rolled her eyes at their appearance.

“Downright indecent it is,” she muttered. “All my girls sent out into the world too. And whatever you might think of him – Lord Geoffrey’s own uncle – a man in his eighties and a cripple – turned out into the street. It’s not right. Mark my words, there will be a reckoning.”

Raymond looked up at her from his bowl of gruel. “That bastard deserves everything he gets,” he hissed.

Mistress Olwen clamped her hand to her mouth in shock. “I’m surprised at you, young Raymond! Talking about your betters like that.”

“That repulsive creature is certainly not my better.”

The cook tutted to herself. “Well I’m not making excuses for the state you or any of the other boys end up in after serving on Sir Wilfrid, but even so…”

An awkward silence descended on the gathering at the table.

“And anyway,” Olwen said finally. “It’s not just him, is it? Your poor, sweet sister has been abandoned to the cruel world out there, as well, hasn’t she?”

“Jane will manage,” said Raymond, tersely. “She’s not as fragile as she looks.”

“You’re a callous boy, Raymond.”

“And you are a foolish old woman who needs to learn that the tide has turned and that your loyalties, indeed your very life, depend on the favour of Prince Felix. And if you allow your tongue to grow as flabby as your backside with all your gossip and complaining, then you are even more stupid than I took you for. And I predict your life will last no longer than that of the traitor Alexander Courcey!”

Mistress Olwen’s face turned purple. She spluttered, incoherent with outrage. She was saved from having to reply to the impudent page boy by the sudden appearance of Odin the Viking at the kitchen door.

“What a quaint little scene,” boomed the ogre. “Mother hen and her four wriggly worms!”

The buxom cook recovered herself and dropped into a curtsey. “You are here for his Highness’ supper, Master Odin?” she simpered.

“Indeed,” came his terse reply.

“You should let one of the page boys carry it up to the Prince.”

“Out of the question. Prince Felix’s meals must be tested. We would not trust such as these to carry his highness’ food to him.”

“Tested?!” squawked the cook. “I have fed kings and dukes and I have never” -

She stopped short. Raymond’s warning suddenly seeming all too apposite.

Odin raised his eyebrow, and Mistress Olwen bustled off to fetch the tray of delicacies she had prepared for Prince Felix’s repast.

Then came the moment Humphrey had been dreading. “Time for your medicine, fat boy,” Odin whispered menacingly.

Moving remarkably swiftly for a man of his size, in an instant, Odin had one arm around Humphrey’s plump neck as he produced the bottle of cordial and unstoppered it. Humphrey began to struggle, but it was no use against this giant of a man. Odin gripped the boy’s turned up nose between his massive thumb and forefinger, causing Humphrey to take an involuntary gulp of air. And in that moment, Odin poured the entire contents of the bottle down the page boy’s throat.

The liquid clearly tasted vile, and Humphrey coughed and spluttered as he swallowed the thick brown gunk. Drool seeped from the the corner of his mouth, and tears from his eyes.

Mistress Olwen reappeared with a tray replete with fish, chicken, vegetables and sweets. All this, just for the Prince, thought Will to himself. “Here you are, Master Odin,” whispered the Cook in sufficiently humble tones.

Odin took the tray without a word to her. He glanced contemptuously at the whimpering Humphrey. “Have a pleasant evening, fat boy.”

His gaze came to rest on Raymond. “Hmm, perhaps,” he mused. “After all, if you have an itch…”

And with that cryptic remark, the brutish Norselander left the draughty kitchen behind.

Will watched him go and then turned to look at Mistress Olwen.

“And I wager he’ll not eat most of it as well,” she muttered to herself.

The castle felt so empty now at night time, thought Will, as he drew his blanket over himself: back in his own bed at last. Where once twenty or thirty young men slept, reeking of testosterone and dreaming of bedding young kitchen maids, now lay four neutered page boys: all dressed in the sissiest and most revealing of costumes. Living only to serve and amuse the dashing yet pitiless Prince Felix.

Well, strictly speaking, actually only three page boys lay in the dormitory. Humphrey had run to the stinking garderobe about an hour ago, his stomach gurgling worse than ever, clutching his butt cheeks in their pink stretched fabric, and in desperate danger of soiling his pink body stocking. They all knew the fat page boy had a very unpleasant and uncomfortable night ahead of him.

Will lay there in his tights suit, listening to Mortimer snoring gently in the bed nearby. Raymond had taken a pallet as far as possible from the other page boys. Will was fairly certain the dark haired lad was still awake, no doubt plotting his revenge against someone or other: probably Will himself.

The door to the large dormitory creaked open. Will had the distinctly unsympathetic thought that Humphrey should just stay in the garderobe all night, rather than disturbing the rest of them by creeping back to his bed, only to have to make a mad dash to the toilet again moments later. But as he looked up from his bedcover, he saw a very different form to the podgy Humphrey, silhouetted in the moonlight.

Odin caught Will’s eye and looked at him contemptuously. “Go back to sleep, bitch boy. It’s not you I’ve come for – this time…”

The hulking henchman carefully removed his thick leather jerkin, and pulled his belt from around his leather trousers. Discarding them silently on one of the nearby beds, he spat into his massive hands and rubbed them together eagerly. Will was taken aback by the size of the man’s pectoral muscles and his bulging biceps, all scattered with the same black fuzz.

Stealthily, Odin made his way further down the dormitory. Will waited and listened. Sure enough, a startled cry from Raymond confirmed that Odin had come to claim the prize that had aroused him so much that very afternoon.

Will’s mind was racing, and he had no time to spend contemplating his rival’s predicament. He risked a look at Mortimer. No, the red-haired youth was sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware and undisturbed by the intruder.

Will slipped out of his bed. His pink stockinged feet rested gently on the cold flagstones. Cursing the tinkling of the bells that still clung to his nipples and genitals, he hoped only that Odin would be too preoccupied to notice any sounds from the far end of the dormitory.

Will hurried over to where the giant had discarded his jerkin and belt. In a second, he had found what he had been looking for: the massive iron key ring that Odin kept attached to his leather belt. Grabbing it, he moved as quickly as he dared, slipping through the door that the Viking had left ajar.

Who knew how long he had to carry out his desperate scheme? He hurried out into the castle courtyard, his flimsy pink tights suit affording little protection against the chill of night time. He snatched up the wooden bowl that lay discarded outside the kennel he’d slept in only the night before and dipped it into the well, filling it half-full of cold water.

Then, nipples tingling and jingling, he hurried over to the door that led down to the dungeon. Which key? Which key? He thought in his panic. There were so many of them! It could take an age to go through them all, by which time Odin would have finished his rape of the page boy and discover the theft.

Keep calm, he thought to himself. And try to match the key to the lock. He selected a long iron key which looked right, but was too thick for the hole. Will might have found that coincidence ironic had his gloved hands not been trembling with fear. The next one wasn’t right either, nor the next. But then – hallelujah! –  his fourth choice eased in and with a click, the door was unlocked.

Will hadn’t counted on the pitch blackness as he slipped inside the dungeon. The clammy dark consumed him in an instant and he paused at the top of the staircase lest he fall. At the foot of the stairs, the cell’s inhabitant, alerted by the creak of the opening door, called out.

“Changed your mind, have you? Have you come to murder me in the night after all?”

“Please be quiet, Sir! It’s me, Sir, Will the junior page boy.”

            Alexander gazed in amazement through the gloom as, sure enough, the blond lad, accompanied by a weird tinkling sound, began to tiptoe down the stairs.

The page boy offered his old master the water in its wooden bowl, and Alexander slurped at it greedily.

“But how, boy?” demanded the Steward between gulps.

“I stole the key from Odin. It was spur of the moment. I’ve not thought of what to do next but I know I don’t have long.”

“I see. And what is happening out there?”

“The Prince has sent almost everyone out of the castle. He says that you are a traitor who used Lord Geoffrey’s incomes to enrich yourself.”

“That is a lie, page boy.”

“I know, Sir. But what can I do?”

“The risks are great. But there is a chance you may help me. You must go now and lock the door behind you. Remove the dungeon key and then return the key ring to where that brutish barbarian left it. If you manage to hide the key in among your bed sheets, you may yet be able to visit me and bring a little food and water. We can only hope that having locked me away to die, they do not think to come here again, or indeed notice that the key is missing.”

Alexander took a deep breath. “I need hardly tell you of what the consequences will be for you if you are discovered aiding me in this way.”

Will said nothing. “I understand, Sir.”

“Then you must go at once. Visit me again when you can. Perhaps then you can give me the explanation for your latest costume.” He gave a wry grin. “I have to say, it does suit you. Although perhaps the bells are rather impractical for escapades of this nature.”

“Yes, Sir,” mumbled Will, his mind spinning at the audacity of his actions and the danger in which he had placed himself. He turned to leave.

“Wait!” whispered Alexander. “One thing more. Tell me – why? Why are you risking your own life for me?”

Will hesitated. “I don’t know, Sir. I only know you don’t deserve to starve to death like this.”

On an impulse, Alexander grabbed the page boy’s head, encased in its pink hood and pulled it towards his own. Parting the youth’s full pink lips, he allowed his tongue to explore deep into the sweet mouth of the lad. God, he tasted good. And how he wanted those pouting lips on his hardening cock right now. However, the Steward’s common sense was victorious in the tussle with his libido.

“Go,” he said. “Go now. And good luck.”

Chapter 21 - A knight in the dungeon and a night in the kennel

It was dark. So dark he could make nothing out in front of him. Nearby he heard the relentless drip of water from a broken pipe. He shivered and wished he had a scrap of blanket to wrap around his naked torso. His luxurious black tights provided no warmth and little comfort in these bleak surroundings.

Alexander Courcey sighed ruefully. How the Wheel of Fate turns, he mused. Mere months ago, in this very dungeon, he was forcing the beautiful Arab soldier, Darius, to submit to a daily diet of humiliation and anal penetration. Now here he himself lay, one hand manacled to the wall, on a bed of filthy straw. At least any prisoner kept here under Alexander’s control had been well looked after, fed, watered and exercised. He had wanted to ensure they all remained in good physical condition for whatever sexual torment he intended to mete out to them. He felt sure that his royal highness Prince Felix would not be anywhere near so considerate a gaoler.

All day long he had had ample time to mull over the dramatic shift in his circumstances. Should he have guessed that the spoiled Prince offering up his body so willingly was indeed too good to be true? Had he for the first time in his life allowed his cock to rule his head? No, he thought grimly, the beautiful young princeling had made up his mind to get Alexander out of the way from their very first encounter. Had it not been this way, he’d have found some other method. And at least Alexander had had the opportunity (however briefly) of getting his hands on that fantastic arse.

A noise startled him. Sure enough, the jangling of keys at the heavy door to the dungeon announced the arrival of his first sight of a visitor since he had been unceremoniously dumped there by the Prince’s bodyguards a mere twenty-four hours before.

He had spent the day wondering what his fate would be. Would Felix simply leave him here to rot, or would he make sure he was properly out of the way by slitting his throat? Alexander tensed as he prepared to find out one way or the other.

Sure enough, he was unsurprised to see the lumbering form of Ulfgar leading the way, carrying a flaming torch to illuminate the path for his arrogant young master. Alexander blinked at the unaccustomed light but he could see well enough to make out that the Prince was being followed by his other bodyguard.

Alexander determined not to show any weakness before the Prince and his lackeys. If he were to die, he would make sure he did it with dignity. Reasoning that he might not get a second chance, he decided to launch the first barb.

“Well if it isn’t Prince Prick-tease himself,” he called out hoarsely. “Have you changed your mind again, young man? Decided you do want my cock up your royal rump after all!”

In the dim light, Alexander nevertheless saw the Prince’s handsome features flush scarlet with rage. “How dare you?!” he shrieked, stamping his royal foot furiously.

“Come, come, your highness. Methinks the boy doth protest too much. You’ve been wiggling that hosed ass of yours at me from the moment you arrived here in the castle. Come over here and I’ll show you what a good fuck could do for you.”

Felix looked as if he were about to explode with apoplexy.

“Shall I kill him now, your highness?” rumbled Ulfgar, drawing his sword.

The Prince could barely speak. “Do it. Do it. The man is mad. Slit his throat.”

Alexander tensed himself. His goading had had the effect he expected. Death would come, but at least it would come swiftly. He had faced death before on the battlefield. In these dark and violent times, it was not unusual for a man to meet his end at the point of another’s thrusting weapon…

Ulfgar raised his sword high. In a moment it would all be over.

“Your highness!” whispered Odin from the shadows. “This is what he wants!”

Ulfgar hesitated in mid-swing.

“What do you mean?” hissed the Prince.

“He seeks a quick death. He fears being left to linger and starve. Should your highness grant the wishes of this man – a traitor, a pervert and a would-be murderer?”

Felix looked deep into Alexander’s wide eyes. “You’re right, Odin. You’re quite right. He hoped to enrage me and thus achieve his life was ended swiftly.”

Alexander’s hopes sank as the golden haired Prince exulted over him. “But I am quite calm now. And he has failed. We will lock the door behind us, Courcey. And we will leave you to rot.”

“Lord Geoffrey will not let my death go unavenged, your “highness”. You will pay the price for this.”

The Prince snorted derisively. “You’re in no position to make threats. By the time my Father and my godfather return to this country, your death will be long forgotten. And you, if you are remembered at all, will be recalled only as a grubby traitor. You forget who I am. And I have nothing to fear from your master.” He turned to leave. “Odin. Ulfgar. Maybe we should give the condemned man one final drink. Are your bladders full?”

In a moment, the two Vikings were fumbling eagerly in their leather trousers. Each produced fat, veiny cocks that pulsed with anticipation. Alexander scrambled around on the cold stone floor, but tethered to the wall as he was, he could not go far. His chain was stretched taut as the two gigantic men moved round to stand on either side of the Steward.

Odin let loose first, a steady stream of piss arcing through the air and landing with a splash on Alexander’s silken black tights. The Steward winced as the warm liquid splashed onto the material and seeped through to wet his thighs. He tried to avoid the noxious onslaught but straight away, the other bodyguard joined in, spraying his urine over Alexander’s naked shoulders and his hair.

“Come, proud Master Steward!” mocked Odin. “You must be thirsty. Take a good long drink! It is the last chance you’ll ever get.”

And he directed his cock upwards so that his piss splashed against Alexander’s bearded face. Alexander, for his part, kept his lips pressed firmly shut. He had no intention of swallowing even a droplet of the pungent fluid.

Ulfgar laughed uproariously as Odin continued to taunt the Steward. “Those fine black tights won’t smell so fine now they’re soaked in our stinking piss, will they? Ha!”

Eventually, bladders emptied, the giants put their monstrous cocks back in their trousers.

Alexander coughed and spluttered as he attempted to wipe the droplets of piss from his brow. Finally, he glared defiantly at the impudent young Prince.

 “Why do it?” Alexander demanded. “I have no power compared to you. You could have had me thrown in here the moment you arrived in the castle if that was what you wanted. Why go through the charade of pretending you wanted me to fuck you?”

The Prince looked at the Steward with contempt. “I was bored,” he said blandly.

“We will leave you now. We shall lock the door behind us and we will be the last people you ever see on this earth. Farewell, Master Courcey.”

And Alexander watched the receding forms of the Prince and his guards climbing up the stairs to freedom, before his prison cell was plunged into darkness once more.

At the doorway to the dungeon, Will waited, tethered to a rusty iron ring. He’d been instructed to stay there “like a good little doggy”, and now assumed a mutely meek countenance as the Prince and his flunkeys strode out of the door and locked it behind them, pretending he had not seen and heard everything that had taken place in the cell below. He crouched in his clinging pink bodysuit, his leather collar constricting his throat, fearful now for himself. At least under Alexander’s regime, there had been a kind of order. He’d become accustomed to having his hosed legs and arse fondled or smacked by any horny male who happened to pass by. Alexander’s experience and expertise had kept Will constantly teetering on the boundaries of fear, humiliation and arousal. However, Will sensed that the entertainment required by the bored Prince and his brutal bodyguards would be far more … unpredictable.

“Come along, doggy,” smirked Odin. “Time for you to go to your kennel.”

He untied Will’s leash and gave him a swat across his pink bum. Will hurried to crawl on all fours as Odin dragged him across the courtyard. “Let’s go walkies!”

Will heard Ulfgar issue a grumbling chuckle at the page boy’s discomfort, whose hosed knees skimmed the cobblestones. The bearded bodyguard grabbed a wooden bowl that was lying nearby and quickly dipped it in the well in the centre of the yard. Placing it down in front of Will, he pushed the pageboy’s blond head down towards the icy water.

“Drink, little bitch. Lap up all that lovely water!”

He forced Will’s face into the bowl, where he held it in place for a few moments. After what seemed an eternity, he released his grip and Will shot up, coughing and spluttering for air. This seemed to amuse the two barbarians no end.

The Prince’s authoritative tones cut through their laughter.

“I’m tired. Tie up the dog and see me to my chambers. You can play some more with your pet tomorrow.”

They’d clearly been looking forward to having some sport with Will, but Odin and Ulfgar did as they were told, tying, somewhat regretfully, the lad’s leash to a post by an old and disused wooden kennel. Will slunk miserably inside and curled up on the ratty old blanket that lay within.

“Good night, bitch,” cooed Odin. “Sweet dreams…”

Spring was in the air the following morning as day broke. It took him a moment to work out where he was. Then he smelt the dampness of the wooden kennel and felt the slinky touch of his pink bodysuit and the events of the previous night flooded back to him. The crustiness of his own dried semen at his crotch served as a reminder of his humiliation and his failure.

It had taken Will a long time to get to sleep. The conversation that he had overheard between Alexander and Prince Felix went round and round his head. Will had never believed that the Steward had been deceiving Lord Geoffrey for all those years, and now it seemed that not only had the cruel Prince duped Alexander, he was abandoning him to starve to his death…

Suddenly he heard the crunch of footsteps approaching his kennel, and then the large leather boot of Odin stepped into his view.

“Sleep well, doggy?”

Will looked up at the giant with big, brown, sorrowful eyes. “Woof?” he whimpered mournfully.

“Ha ha! Yes that’s the idea, little bitch. Now, I guess you must be hungry. Here’s a bowl with some dog food for you to tuck into.”

Sure enough, a shallow bowl containing a scattering of dry biscuits was placed in front of Will. “Make sure you eat it all up now!”

            Will was left in his kennel all morning, and the sun was well past midday by the time Odin returned.

“You’re to join your fellow worms,” he leered as he towered over the page boy.

Untying the leash from the wooden post, he tugged Will’s collar sharply. “Boy, are we going to have some fun with you!”

Prince Felix lounged in the plush red velvet throne in the middle of his chambers in the castle. He examined his pale, ringed hand languidly and ran it slowly along his thigh. His turquoise tights were patterned with an intricate diamond design that glittered in the early Spring sunlight. He knew all too well that his body had been lusted after by just about every man in his father’s army. So what if he knew that the fine, figure-hugging tights that took pride of place in his wardrobe only added to the devastating effect he had on such men? He knew that his physical appearance was directly given to him by God. All other men were brutes: animals scrabbling in the dirt, compared to his divinely given beauty.

He smiled to himself. Well, Alexander Courcey certainly learned his lesson. The presumption of the man – to think he could lay his hands on his god-like form! Well, he had his reward: crawling to death in darkness and alone.

And now here were four more grovelling creatures: their shame and humiliation almost palpable as they stood before him in their pink bodysuits. Apprehension was clearly etched on all four faces as they tried to imagine what fresh humiliation might be visited on them this afternoon.

“How are my little worms today? Did you get lots of stares as you went around in your pink tights suits? How did Mistress Olwen’s serving maid get on in her little cap and apron?”

Humphrey flushed as pink as his costume, his tummy rumbling and squelching with hunger.

“And did my dirty bitch dog sleep well in its kennel? I imagine it was humping whatever surface it could find…”

Will studiously avoided the gaze of the other boys.

“But we must get on with today’s little amusement,” the Prince continued.

“Fetch the podia!” he commanded.

At this, Odin and Ulfgar produced four wooden stools and arranged them around the room.

“Come, worms! Climb up!”

The four young men did so, a little hesitantly. Humphrey’s stool wobbled a little: one of its legs slightly shorter than the others. The fat page boy struggled to maintain his balance but he managed it in the end.

Prince Felix glanced out of the window. “As you know, I have introduced a series of austerity measures here in the castle, to make up for the profligacy of your former master. Even now, many of your former comrades and colleagues are making their way into the desolate countryside.”

Sure enough, a slow and miserable line of old men, women and girls were trudging their way through the mud, leaving behind forever the place they had thought of as home. Will followed the arrogant young prince’s gaze, and spotted Jane the kitchen-maid amongst the snaking queue of outcasts. He dared to look across at Raymond to see if his rival had noticed the banishment of his sister. The cold fury in Raymond’s eyes told him that he had.

Felix smirked at his humiliated subjects. “Don’t waste your pity on them. Who knows? By the time we’ve finished with you, you might even think they have the better deal!”

Will heard Humphrey gulp, and the fat boy’s breathing became shallower.

“Now, Odin and Ulfgar here are Vikings as you know. Cruel barbarians, bred to a life of raping and pillaging. Thus far, they have been tamed by the daily parade of young maidens – like that pert-titted kitchen-maid down there – they see around them. But with this exodus of pretty young female flesh, they demand new ways to satisfy their carnal lusts, don’t you, my men?”

The brutish Odin leered at the pink-hosed boys. “Oh yes, your highness.”

“They want to see you dance for them,” he went on. “They want to see you writhing in the most lascivious and suggestive way you can imagine. If you please Odin and Ulfgar, they will attach one of these ingenious little bells to you…” The Prince held up a jingling little brass bell attached to a clip rather like a clothes peg. “…At the end of your dance, the slut with the most bells on their body will be declared the winner. And the slut with the least will be punished …”

Will glanced across at his fellow pages. It would be hard to imagine a less erotic sight than Humphrey in his bulging pink tights suit, he thought.

Prince Felix handed the box of bells to Odin and leaned back in his throne with a smirk.

“Do you understand? Then we will begin!”

Chapter 20 - Pretty in Pink

Will looked around hesitantly at his fellow pages.

“What are you waiting for?” roared Odin. “You were given a command! Remove your pumps and tunics!”

Humphrey, Mortimer and Will, spurred into action, hurried to do as they were bidden. Will slipped off his soft, black leather pumps, and placed his stockinged feet on the cold grey flagstones of the Great Hall. Shuddering slightly, he reached up, tugged at his deep blue, embroidered tunic and pulled it over his head.

He glanced at the others: Mortimer already stripped to the waist like him, standing self-consciously in his bright orange tights: hands cupped instinctively over his groin. Humphrey was taking longer, reluctantly removing his tunic to reveal his pale pot belly, his posterior looking even bigger than ever – round and plump in the stretched green fabric of his hose.

This was all new to them, thought Will ruefully. Aside from the occasional swat on their arse from a horny knight, neither of them had been paid as much attention as had he in their time at the castle. The humiliating sensation of being exposed, exhibited for the pleasure and amusement of the powerful was all too familiar to Will. The coverage afforded by the thin, skin-tight material of his tights was so slight as to be almost irrelevant. As ever, the tights seemed to make him feel more rather than less exposed: more naked, as they clung indecently to every curve of his ass, legs and bulge.

As these thoughts ran through Will’s head, he felt his cock responding to the erotic situation of being viewed like this, and his wayward prick started to harden and bulge in his hose.

“Now we want to see you as naked as the day you were born, lads,” commanded Odin. “Bend down and pull off your tights. And you – on the end – can take off that sack or whatever it is you’re wearing…”

Raymond seemed almost eager to remove his makeshift tunic. Will was a little scared of the defiance in the dark haired lad’s eyes, and once again, he wondered at what his fellow page had experienced at the hands of Sir Wilfrid. Mortimer hesitated but then apologetically began to roll down his orange hose, exposing his naked arse and genitals to the chilly air in the Hall. Will did likewise, regretfully stepping out of the luxurious leggings and discarding them on the floor. As he did so, he was acutely aware of his naked arse rising up on display for the inspection of both the Prince’s bodyguards, as well as Felix himself.

Only Humphrey remained, shivering and dithering. “Please, your highness…” he stammered.

“Do it, boy!” growled Odin. “The Prince wants to see what kind of pathetic specimens he’s taken charge of. And to do that, he must examine you all as naked as babies.”

Jolted into action by the implied threat in the Viking’s voice, Humphrey fumbled to pull down his tights, nearly losing his balance in the process and almost falling flat on his face. Finally, he too stood naked before the Prince and his henchmen, his dimpled flesh wobbling and goose-pimpled.

“What a sorry display,” tutted the Prince. “Not a decent sized cock amongst you. And fatty here – I can barely even see yours dangling below your gut. You, lad,” he said, gesturing towards Will, “seem to be in a state of some arousal. Does it excite your pathetic little boy cock to be standing naked before your superiors?”

Will bit his lip. Was he supposed to speak? His dick seemed to answer for him, bobbing independently and responding to the verbal dressing-down administered by his highness.

Mortimer’s pale skin blushed a deep red at the Prince’s words, and he instinctively moved to cup his hands to cover his own flaccid cock. Instantly, Odin swatted the boy’s hands away.

“There’s to be no modesty here, lad. You’re all to understand just how fully you are owned by his royal highness.”

The four young men stood trembling with the chill in the Great Hall, exposed in their nakedness in the presence of Prince Felix himself. The Prince chuckled smoothly, revelling in the level of power and control he could exert over the pageboys. Will watched the handsome royal closely. The Prince did not seem to be obtaining any kind of sexual thrill from his absolute domination of them. Fas far as he was concerned, the boys might as well have been insects. And the realisation that that was all they were to him made Will feel even more anxious than before.

“Now,” announced the Prince. “I want you all dressed in something far more suitable for your station.” He gestured to the piles of silky pink fabric at the lads’ feet.

“You heard his highness,” smirked the evil-looking Odin. “Get dressed, boys!”

Will watched as Mortimer and Humphrey eagerly reached for the garments, desperate merely to cover their nakedness. Will bent down and did the same. Clearly the clothing was another specialist item from the skilful Master Yorick’s workshop.

It took Will a moment to work out how to put the thing on, but he quickly realised that the silky, stretchy garment was a kind of bodysuit. Fashioned in bright pink, one had to step into it via an opening in the back. Will did so, pulling the legs of the suit over his calves and thighs. With a frisson of excitement, he realised that, like everything that came from Yorick’s workshop, it was made of the finest material, designed to caress and cling to every muscle and curve of the male form.

There was no chance of his cock softening as the pink silk covered it. The suit seemed to be just a little too small for him, so inevitably the material pulled right up Will’s arse crack.

The sleeves of the suit were gloved, and Will plunged his arms inside, ruching up the remainder of the material over his shoulders. Finally, he pulled up the hood that was attached to the tights suit, and slipped it over his head. There was a hole in the hood so that his face remained uncovered, but otherwise the constriction of the tight fabric, covering every inch of his body was thrillingly erotic. It reminded him all too powerfully of the fabulous sensation when Alexander had encased him in tights.

His thoughts strayed briefly to the Chief Steward. What had become of him, he wondered. Was he alive even?

“Here, boy. Let me do you up.” The gruff voice of Odin broke in on Will’s pondering. He felt the coarse, thick fingers of the towering bodyguard fastening the gap in the back of the suit, so that the entire garment now enclosed him.

The giant traced a finger down Will’s back and rested in the crack of his cheeks. He pushed firmly against Will’s tights-clad arsehole. Ye gods, thought the page boy, his one finger feels as thick as any other man’s dick! Will shook his head at the loss of his innocence. Only six months ago, the only cocks he’d ever seen in his life were his and his brothers’. And yet now he was able to make comparisons between the various penises that had been shoved in his mouth and arse since arriving at the castle.

Will looked down the line to see that the Prince’s bodyguards were busy fastening his fellow pages into their outfits. He couldn’t begin to imagine for what purpose Master Yorick had made these unusual suits, but, sure enough, all four lads were now clad in identical and indecently figure-hugging garments.

At the far end of the line, Raymond, thinner than Felix remembered him, but still with a pert bubble butt and strong thighs, filled out the tights-suit nicely. Next to him, Mortimer fidgeted uncomfortably, unused to the total coverage. His skinnier, more boyish body was not so alluring as Raymond’s, but his obvious discomfort in being on display was clearly providing the sadistic young Prince with some amusement. And at Will’s side, Humphrey looked utterly miserable. His flesh bulged in the skin-tight costume, and he looked for all the world like one of Mistress Olwen’s sausages, fat, ready to be pricked and thrown into a hot pan. Inevitably, Humphrey’s considerable bum had never looked bigger or more exposed.

Prince Felix surveyed the pages in their new habiliments in silence for a moment. Then he exploded in mirthless laughter.

“What a ridiculous sight you all make! Look at you all – look at your fellow page boys! Look at yourselves! Dressed in tight pink bodysuits. Every muscle on display. Your cocks outlined by the silky uniform. You look utterly pathetic. Four little sissy boys dressed all in pink. I trust you feel utterly ashamed of yourselves, cringing before real men.”

Will gulped. Somehow sharing his humiliation with his fellows made it worse. The fact that all four of them knew the Prince was telling the truth about how they appeared and how they felt. A quick glance at the others told him that Mortimer was shifting awkwardly from one stockinged foot to the other. Humphrey sniffed. Raymond bit his lip.

Felix leapt to his feet and approached the suffering youths.

“Although I imagine this is something of an improvement for you, is it not?” he smirked at Raymond. “Rather than sprawling around in your own shit for the entertainment of an eighty year old pervert...”

“And you.” The Prince turned to Mortimer. “You look rather like a little pink shrimp. I can’t imagine anything looking less masculine, can you, Odin?”

The Viking chuckled throatily. “No, your highness.”

“Then there’s this fat one. Looking rather like an overstuffed pasty in his tights suit.”

“And finally – well, we’ve already established that this one at the end clearly gets his sexual thrills by being dressed in a sissy pink bodysuit and leered at by real men…”

Will blushed.

“You’ll notice that Ulfgar and Odin do not wear hose as is the fashion in England. Vikings traditionally wear leather trousers – they believe tights are unmanly, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, your highness.”

The fact that Prince Felix delighted in flaunting his perfect physique in a seemingly never ending supply of tights was clearly going to pass unmentioned, thought Will. He imagined when it came to dealing with the arrogant young Prince, it was wise to agree with him whatever he said, no matter how contradictory it might be.

“These suits are to be your permanent uniform from now on,” Felix declared. “You will continue to perform your daily duties around the castle – and you will need to work harder than ever with the smaller number of staff. You will live, work and sleep in your tights suits.”

“The suits have an ingenious opening,” added Odin. “So you will be able to relieve yourselves of your bodily functions without removing them.”

“In addition,” continued the Prince, “the four of you will report to my chambers at three o’clock in the afternoon every day for … my amusement. Inspired by the literature we have discovered right here in the castle, you are going to partake in a series of challenges. At the end of each day, the loser of the challenge will be punished in some fashion. Depending on my whim.

“So now we’ll give you a little taster of what is to come. Ulfgar, Odin – you know what to do!”

Quick as a flash, Will’s knees buckled and he collapsed onto his front, as the burly Ulfgar pushed him to the floor. Rapidly and expertly, the Viking bound Will’s ankles together with stout rope, and then tied his wrists together in the small of his back. Will watched as the giant did the same to the trembling Humphrey, just as Odin was trussing up both Raymond and Mortimer.

“This is your true place, slaves,” continued the handsome Prince. “Lying on your bellies. Like worms. Little pink worms. Humiliated and degraded before your master. And now to entertain us, we’re going to see you race. I want to see my four little worms crawling to the door of the Great Hall and then back here to my throne. And remember – there will be a punishment for the loser.”

Will shifted his body a little, trying to ascertain the best way to move in this new and uncomfortable position. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Raymond edging forward slightly, determined to gain as much advantage as he could from the start. Trust him to be cheating already, Will thought ruefully.

“Are you ready, little worms? Then crawl!!”

All four pages began to move. Will started a writhing, undulating movement which propelled him forward. It seemed to work, as his strong leg muscles meant that he was already half a body length ahead of the struggling Humphrey, crawling alongside him. Raymond, meanwhile, had rolled onto his side and was already streaking into the lead in the bizarre and degrading race. However, in a moment, Odin had put a stop to that, kicking Raymond’s shoulder so that he fell back onto his hose-covered stomach.

“Stay on your belly, worm!” the giant hissed, and as further punishment, he kept his booted foot pressed down on Raymond, allowing the three other youths to pass him and take the lead.

Raymond rocked from side to side, gnashing his teeth in frustration as he was restrained. Eventually, Odin released his hold on the lad, but by now, the others were practically at the great oaken door and ready to turn for the return leg of the journey.

The Vikings began to clap and to holler as they watched the four pink-clad youths wriggling and writhing on their humiliating journey. Their jeers and laughter rang in the page boys’ ears.

By now, Will had made it to the far end of the room practically neck and neck with the wiry Mortimer. The only thing he had not reckoned on was the effect of all this action on his cock. The friction of his dick rubbing against the divine sheen of his tights suit meant that each time he made an undulating movement nearer to his goal, he was effectively masturbating. For a young man kept in a state of permanent sexual frustration, it was growing all too much to cope with.

Every time his tights-covered bulge rubbed against the cold flagstones of the Hall, he was brought closer to climaxing. No, he thought to himself. Control yourself! The pink material would expose all – and Prince Felix would be only too aware if Will did actually cum inside his tights suit. Concentrate, he thought. Just concentrate and win the race!

He was edging ahead of Mortimer now, and the green-hosed calves of his royal master were mere feet away.

“Come, worm!” called the Prince. “Come kiss my royal boot!”

Humiliated, degraded, Will made a final surge, and as he did so, the pressure of the floor against his rock hard cock overwhelmed him. Just as he collapsed at the Prince’s boot, kissing the soft black leather, his hips bucked over and over, as creamy white cum spurted into the crotch of his pink tights.

The Prince gazed down at the page boy’s two round ass cheeks, humping the floor in the throes of sexual abandonment, and he smiled evilly. The book had promised that a certain type of submissive might become aroused by this treatment. The blond page boy appeared to fall into that category.

Will lay there, totally spent: too ashamed and too nervous to move and expose the wet, damp patch in his tights. His cock was softening rapidly. He was aware that Mortimer had crossed the imaginary finish line just behind him. And risking a turn of his head, he saw that by a supreme effort of willpower, Raymond had somehow managed to overcome his disadvantage and at the last moment, was wriggling his way past a huffing and exhausted Humphrey to claim third place.

Prince Felix surveyed with satisfaction the panting lads grovelling at his feet, all four of them in their sweat-stained tights suits.

“Well, well, well. It seems we have a winner – and a loser.”

Then came the order Will was dreading.

“On your feet, worms. And receive your rewards…”

It was no mean task for the youths to clamber upright. Much scrabbling ensued, and at least once, Humphrey fell on his bottom with a resounding thwack. The Prince and his bodyguards of course did nothing to assist the struggling youths. They merely looked on in amusement.

When all four were finally standing, the Prince approached Humphrey. “So you were the loser, my plump little worm.”

Humphrey, already traumatised from the unaccustomed physical exertion, was trembling in terror.

“But you will find me a lenient master. And as this was your first such contest, your punishment will not be so terrible. Mistress Olwen is shortly to be in need of a new kitchen-maid. You will present yourself as her new maid, complete with bonnet and apron, and you will assist her in all the culinary tasks she sets you.”

Humphrey sighed with relief. He had imagined far worse a punishment.

“Oh – one thing more. You are to tell her that you are to go without food for the next twenty-four hours.”

Even Will winced. He knew just how painful that would be for Humphrey.

“But have no fear, my worms. Future punishments will be far less … mundane than this one.”

“Now you have your instructions. Odin and Ulfgar will untie you now and you may return to your regular duties. You will report to me in my chambers at precisely three o’clock tomorrow afternoon for our next bout of amusement.”

Will’s heart leaped. He was going to get away with it! He dared a look down at the treacherous patch of sodden material at his crotch – that traitorous dark pink stain. Once he was free of his bonds, he bowed low and practically skipped from the Hall. He was almost at the door when the Prince’s clarion voice rang out:

“Wait! The blond worm! Come here!”

With a desperate sinking feeling, Will turned on his heel and walked back to the throne. As he passed him, Raymond glanced at his bulge and sneered at him with a look that said, you deserve everything you get.

The door slammed shut behind his colleagues, leaving Will alone and vulnerable with the Prince and his monstrous bodyguards.

“Well, well, well,” drawled Felix. “It seems that you, little worm, were very turned on by being made to crawl along the floor in your revealing little costume – is that so?”

Will hesitated to reply.

“Answer me!”

“Yes – yes, your highness.”

“And you’ve made it very clear what a dirty little bitch you are by cumming in your beautifully clean pink tights. You really are a perverted little slut, aren’t you?”

Again a hesitation.

“Aren’t you?!”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m not sure if a filthy little animal like you is fit to serve in a royal household. You’re clearly subhuman. More like a dog than a man. So maybe that’s how you should be treated for a little while.”

The Prince clicked his fingers, and Odin appeared with a long leather leash and a leather collar.

The giant snapped the collar around Will’s neck and attached the leash to a buckle at it.

“Back on your knees, boy. For the next twenty-four hours, you’re going to be my dog. You’ll eat like a dog, drink like a dog, sleep like a dog, and piss like a dog – cocking your leg against a tree. And that will hopefully teach you your true lesson in life. I’ll warn you – I don’t treat my dogs kindly. They are beaten and whipped and they learn to cower from their master, do you understand?”

Will gulped in fear. “Yes, your highness.”

The Prince withdrew a thin leather riding crop from the top of his boot and, without warning, brought it down sharply on Will’s pink hosed bottom.

“Owwww!” cried the lad.

Prince Felix tutted in mock annoyance. “Now that’s not the sound dogs make, is it, bitch? Let’s hear you ‘woof’”!

Will whimpered in humiliation. Here he was on all fours, collared and leashed, naked save for a pink bodysuit which clung to him, wet and cool at his crotch and exposing more than it concealed, being made to bark like a dog.

“Woof,” he said feebly. “Woof. Woof.”

Chapter 19 - Bedroom of Filth

The following morning dawned bright and cold, and the castle’s residents chattered away inquisitively, their breath steaming in the draughty Grand Hall.

Will glanced around him at the motley crew of females and old men that were the decimated remains of the household. It was unusual to be summoned like this, especially so early in the morning. Mortimer held forth knowingly on what he expected was the cause of the meeting.

“I imagine the King and Lord Geoffrey have overcome the heathens and they want to let us know that they’re on their way home.”

Plump Humphrey shook his head. “Old Daniel in the blacksmith’s forge reckons he heard a commotion near the dungeons late last night. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good news…”

A hush fell over the assembled throng as the large doors creaked open, and Ulfgar and Odin took up threatening positions either side of the entrance.

“Kneel, peasants!” rumbled the shaven-headed ogre.

“Kneel before your illustrious prince,” added the bearded brute.

Along with all the other servants, Will did as he was bidden, but he sneaked a sideways glance to see the slim figure of Prince Felix sweep into the Hall. He was dressed in a jewel encrusted robe that fastened at his throat with a vast emerald. The gown split from the waist to reveal bright green tights that showed off the contours of his muscular thighs and beautiful backside. A black, feathered cap perched jauntily atop his flowing blond locks. But the expression Felix wore across his chiselled features was grim and humourless.

He took his seat in the throne at the far end of the Hall, flanked by his hulking, black-clad protectors.

“Servants,” he began. “It brings me no pleasure to give you this news. But you must accept it with good grace and in the knowledge that all happens for the best. There are to be some changes at Castle de Montford. I have discovered that your master, the former Chief Steward, Alexander Courcey, is a traitor.”

A shocked gasp ran around the Hall.

“He has, for many years, been fleecing Lord Geoffrey, who due to his over-trusting nature, allowed this scoundrel to please himself. Courcey has run my godfather’s lands entirely for his own benefit and enrichment. And so now I find that Lord Geoffrey is deeply in debt and that dire actions must be taken in order to save the de Montford estates.”

His audience remained kneeling in stunned silence.

“I personally shall oversee the running of my godfather’s lands. And this will involve stringent measures. I am forced to dismiss about half of the current staff, who will need to return to whatever family or dependents they have living. The rest of you will find your life much harder than previously. Your food will be rationed and you will have to survive on mere bread and gruel. This is all I have to say to you for the moment. My devoted servants, Ulfgar and Odin, will issue my instructions to you all, and I expect them to be obeyed in all matters. Also, I order you that the name of the traitor, Alexander Courcey, no longer be spoken in this castle. Any who dare to do so will be treated as sympathetic to him and will be shown no mercy. Do I make myself clear?”

Mumbled assent issued from the stunned castlefolk.

“Good. Now, go about your business. I’m sure you all have plenty to do.”

The staff began to shuffle out of the Hall.

“What’s going on?” whispered Will to his fellow pages. But the other two lads could only return his bewildered gaze.

Odin and Ulfgar swept through the castle like a tornado. The brutish thugs thought nothing of shoving or kicking anyone or anything out of their way as they fulfilled the Prince’s wish for a thorough “inventory” of everything in the place.

Everything that possessed even the meagrest of possible value was confiscated as a contribution to the vast financial deficit which Felix claimed threatened all their existences: jewellery, clothing, weapons, furniture: all were hoarded for the Prince to view at his personal leisure. And no nook or cranny of the castle was sacred.

“Open this bloody door!” bellowed Ulfgar at the unyielding timber barrier that stood before him. “Or so help me I will break it down!”

“Be off with you!” commanded a querulous voice from within. “I’m master of my own quarters and I’ll answer to no one!”

“Is that so?” grunted the Viking. And with all the force he could muster, he charged at the door.

Nothing could have resisted that onslaught, and with a splintering crack, the door gave way and shattered into the room beyond it. The bewhiskered giant gagged almost instantly as he was assailed by a powerful and incredibly vile smell. Covering his mouth and nose with his sleeve, he ventured a look into the room.

A shrivelled, little old man sat in the centre of a bed. The sheets were filthy and stained with unidentifiable blotches. The room was littered with fragments of clothing, bits of food, plates, along with a whole host of bizarre and Byzantine objects, the likes of which Ulfgar had never before seen. Some looked like weapons or instruments of torture, with peculiar protuberances, spikes or balls emerging from them. Most were made of iron or steel, although some had leather straps or wooden handles attached to them. In addition, a couple of evil-looking whips and cat o’nine tails lay discarded in the corner.

Along one wall of the tapestry-covered room hung manacles, chains and other restraining devices: ratchets and cogs, tables and platforms that could be adjusted by means of a kind of control panel which lay at the old man’s side.

Suddenly, Ulfgar started at a movement beneath the sheets. Thinking it to be a rat, attracted by the room’s stinking detritus, he raised his dagger to pierce the creature.

“No, you fool!” shrieked the old man. “This one’s got spirit. He has months left in him yet!”

And with that, he pulled back the bedclothes to reveal a young man of about twenty or so, with dark, curly hair. The youth was lying on his front, his hands shackled behind his back and his legs securely bound at the knees and the ankles. He was bare-chested, and his back was criss-crossed with red, angry looking weals. His lower half was naked save for some coarse grey fabric which had been wrapped tightly and fastened around his nether regions to make a kind of loincloth. The nappy was stained, soiled, and stinking, and Ulfgar grimaced in disgust at the realisation that it did not appear to have been emptied of its contents for some time. The nappy and the sheets the slave lay in were spotted with brown and grey greasy marks, as was everything that resided in the hellish bedchamber.

The youth was squirming slightly in his bondage, but unable to move very much due to the fact that on his head was what appeared to be a kind of leather harness. The harness fastened round the back of his skull and then attached to a leather undergarment worn by the old man. Although Ulfgar could not see clearly, the laboured way in which the young man was breathing made him sure that the youth’s head was buried deep in the old man’s crotch, and upon hearing a gagging, wretching sound, he realised that the old man’s penis was clearly lodged deep in the young man’s throat.

It was not a pleasant sight.

“Get out of here, you oaf!” cried the withered old man. “If you have food, leave it outside the door as usual. Don’t you know I have given strict orders not to be disturbed?”

“I only follow Prince Felix’s orders,” grunted the giant. “I’m to report back to him.”

“Well report this: I’m to be left alone with my boy, you understand?” The old man chuckled to himself. “Now, slave – my arse wants some attention. Let’s have you service that for a while…”

He unbuckled his slave from the contraption at his crotch. The dark haired boy slithered backwards down the grimy sheets, coughing and spluttering as the old man withdrew his withered cock from the slave’s swollen lips. Ulfgar caught a glimpse of the boy’s dark eyes – haunted yet still defiant – as he struggled on his stomach to take up his new position at the old man’s anus. Ulfgar’s lip curled in disgust as the old man gleefully clipped the boy’s face harness to the back of his leather undergarment.

The Viking backed out of the room.

“And send someone to fix my damned door!”

Meanwhile, in the near-deserted dormitory, the three remaining page boys huddled together confidentially.

“What do you think Alexander did?” asked Mortimer.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” replied Humphrey. “And if you’re wise, you’ll do what the Prince told you and forget he ever existed.”

“I think it’s an excuse for the Prince to take over running the castle and to do whatever he likes,” ventured Will.

Mortimer appraised his blond room-mate with an amused grin. “I might have known you’d stick up for Alexander. He must have quite a cock. Every lad who gets fucked by him ends up as his willing pet.”

“No, I” – Will began to protest.

“I’m more worried about what’s going to happen now,” said Humphrey. “I just hope I have a roof over my head tonight.”

Will said nothing. He looked down and ran his hand along the silken sheen of his blue hose. He offered up a silent prayer that the new regime would not mean that he would be returned to his previous home: the stinking hovel in his meagre little village.

Prince Felix fondled the treasures that had been deposited in front of him in the Great Hall. The latest chest to be emptied was from the workshop of Master Yorick and contained a vast array of male hosiery – of every colour, fabric and design imaginable.

“The old man said what?” he cried, incredulous at what he had just been told.

Ulfgar repeated Sir Wilfrid’s vituperative command.

The Prince’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Go back to his stinking den. Take his toilet slave from him, and have the boy cleaned up and delivered to Mistress Olwen in the kitchen. In these straitened times, I cannot allow the luxury of a servant waiting on only one person. Then tell the uncouth old fool that he has twenty four hours to gather whatever belongings he can carry and be gone from here.”

Ulfgar looked at Prince Felix with some apprehension.

“You can take that look off your face, man,” snapped the Prince. “I will not be mocked by anyone. What care I that the old fool is the uncle of my godfather? He must learn his place. And by God, learn it he will. Or are you telling me you fear a scrawny old pervert like him?”

“Your wish is my command, your highness. It will be done.”

“Good.”

Ulfgar’s long strides soon carried him from the Hall to see to his unwelcome task.

Prince Felix shook his head. “I had no idea that my uncle had allowed those around him to sink into such sexual depravity. Father will be most displeased when he returns.”

He smiled his cat-like grin and stretched his muscular, green-hosed legs out in front of him, admiring their shape and beauty.

Suddenly he sighed theatrically. “Oh, God, Odin. I’m still so bored! How are we to amuse ourselves in this backwater?”

The Prince’s other bodyguard had his head buried in one of the leather-bound books that had been removed from Alexander’s chambers. He looked up with a golden-toothed grin. “I think I may have found a way for us to have some sport, your highness.”

Felix’s beautiful face lit up with anticipation. “Tell me more.”

“The traitor’s books are undoubtedly illicit but they do have some interesting ideas.” The shaven-headed brute knelt down to examine the pile of tights that had been dumped in front of the Prince. He selected a scrap of bright pink material. “And these costumes will prove very useful, I think…”

Sir Wilfrid’s howls of rage echoed around the castle as he was robbed of his male plaything. Had he been able to walk, he would surely have confronted the imperious young Prince. As it was, all he could do was scream impotently from his detritus-strewn pit.

Will went about out his usual duties, painfully aware that various servants were being issued with the unwelcome information that their service at the castle was to be terminated and they would soon have to make their own way in the cold, cruel world beyond.

He was in the middle of fetching some firewood from the logpile into the kitchen, when a commotion at the door made him turn. Olwen the Cook also looked up to see who had entered. A little nervously, she curtseyed as the towering form of Ulfgar strode into her domain.

The giant was carrying a bundle which he was attempting to hold as far away from him as possible. When he reached the centre of the room, he dropped the dirty grey blanket on the floor.

“See to this,” he snarled at the Cook. “Clean it up and then send it to the Great Hall along with the other three page boys. And do it quick. His highness doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Having abandoned his malodorous burden, Ulfgar was in no hurry to linger.

“What on earth can it be?” enquired Mistress Olwen, wrinkling her nose, and covering her face with a sprig of lavender as she approached the blanket. She peeled back its layers and peered inside.

Will crept up behind her to sneak a look. Inside lay the near naked form of Raymond, his erstwhile nemesis. His face looked grey and gaunt, and his curly dark locks hung damp and limp against his cheeks. His bruised, thin body was naked aside from a full and dirty nappy. Raymond looked Will straight in the eye with an expression of utter loathing. Will’s heart sank. He knew that, whilst things had been bad before, this would only make his relationship with Raymond worse than ever. Raymond would never forgive him for having seen him in this ultimately degraded and humiliated state.

Mistress Olwen had sent Will to fetch a bath and some water, and then shooed him out of the kitchen as she set about cleaning up the broken youth. A mere half hour later, Will found himself anxiously standing outside the Great Hall along with his three fellow pages. Mortimer, Humphrey and he himself wore their usual pageboy livery: orange, green and blue respectively: tunic, tights and pumps.

When it came to Raymond, Olwen had had to improvise. After all, Master Yorick’s vast clothing store had been confiscated by the Prince’s looting session. For this reason, the recently liberated toilet slave was barefoot and dressed in a hessian sack. The sack had been hastily emptied of its contents (muddy potatoes), and holes cut in it for Raymond’s head and arms. The crude smock reached just below his hips and scarcely covered his peeking genitalia, whilst at the back, the hem skimmed his red and sore-looking bottom.

It was plain to see that his time spent in the company of the insatiable Sir Wilfrid had not dimmed Raymond’s spirit. And as the four youths stood in silence, patiently awaiting their fates, Raymond turned a look of utter loathing upon young Will, that made the latter take an involuntarily step backwards.

The doors opened and Ulfgar ushered the four page boys into the Grand Hall.

“Approach the royal throne!” bellowed Odin from the far end of the room.

Tentatively, the youths did so. Will was struck anew by the beauty of the heir to the kingdom: the pale, flawless skin; the perfectly chiselled bone structure; the lithe and muscular body. Helpless, his jaw dropped and he gawped at this vision of beauty before him.

The Prince calmly surveyed the nervous young men, and raised an amused eyebrow at Raymond’s scratchy, uncomfortable, and frankly indecent, garment.

“You are most fortunate, my subjects,” declared Prince Felix. “Your services have been deemed necessary here at Castle de Montford, and, provided you fulfil your duties satisfactorily, you will continue to be given employment and a roof over your heads.”

Will noticed that Humphrey, standing on his right, nearly fell to his knees with relief.

“However, I have been disappointed,” he went on, “with the paucity of entertainment in these parts. And so I am grateful to my loyal and faithful servant, Odin, who has devised a new kind of sport for me. Odin – bring forward the new uniforms for our little page boys…”

The shaven-headed Odin stepped forward, carrying a bundle of pink clothing. Purposefully, he walked along the line of anxious page boys, and deposited one bundle of pink in front of each of them.

“These costumes will better befit your new station in life.”

Humphrey shot Will an apprehensive glance.

“Well, what are you waiting for? It is time for you to get dressed. Strip, boys! Strip!”