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“How are we feeling, Your Highness?” Nigel asked, walking around the king and inspecting his dick which was pressed between two wooden boards, sporting sharp points. He made sure nothing was bleeding and the colour of the squashed dick still looked healthy enough, then snipped his fingers repeatedly at the full balls handing out below the wooden boards.
The king screamed into his gag made out of his own underwear.
“Ah, yes,” Nigel said with fake compassion. “I know it’s very painful, but you were so tense after the audience, and I know how you like to ruminate on your decisions, so I thought I’d give you something else to think about. Hm?”
He gave the king a few snaps, then moved further inwards to where his smoothly shaved pucker was tensing with the pain.
He lavished his tongue over it, and the king moaned.
“Yes, Your Highness. I know you like this.”
Nigel licked broad, wet strokes all over, making sure to put pressure on the perineum, then push the tip of his tongue into the hole.
The king tried to struggle, but his hips and knees were tied down on a wooden block standing in the middle of the royal four-poster bed, and he couldn’t really move at all with his arms tied spread to the bed and the block tied off at four points, too.
“Your Majesty!” Nigel protested. “I know getting hard hurts more, but if you struggle you are not relieving that, you are just making it worse. Now let me enjoy your hole with my tongue and dick before it is destroyed so completely it’ll be worthless.”
The king whimpered, two dark patches on his red blindfold showing that he was crying.
Nigel returned to eating him out, taking his time, shushing him through the whimpers and gently fondling his balls.
“I’ll fuck you with the board on, now, and for the main event, I’ll take the bord off, so you can really concentrate on your rear-end, yes?”
The king was crying so hard by now, that breathing was obviously becoming a problem.
Nigel sighed. “You’re being bad, Your Highness. I put in so much work to make a nice, comfy gag for you, and you go ahead and cry too much for it to be safe. Now I’ll have to push a nasty ring in your mouth to make sure you don’t talk, because talking makes you think too much, and thinking makes you tense. The ring will make you drool, and it will make your jaw hurt, and it won’t look half as pretty.”
Nigel loosened the stocking he had used to tie the underwear in place and plucked the drenched silk out of the king’s mouth.
“Please, please take it off, Master” the king begged.
Nigel stroked his bearded cheek. “But you need the pain to focus on what’s important.”
“I already am focused, I promise. I don’t need it anymore. Please?”
Nigel ran a thoughtful finger over the king’s lips and was rewarded with little kitten licks.
“Alright. We’ll try. We’ll also leave the gag off, then, but if I hear one self-deprecating word out of your royal mouth - one! - or if you start apologising for anything, again, the boards come back on and the gag back in.”
“Yes, Master. Thank you! I shan’t. I shan’t do that. I will not disappoint you.”
Nigel sighed long-sufferingly, taking away his hand to run it through the king’s curly hair. “I am never disappointed in you. I am sometimes cross with you, because you are so bad at taking care of yourself, but I am never disappointed. You hear that?”
“Yes, Master. So-ank you, Master.”
“Hm,” Nigel said. “That was close, but I’ll let it slide. I’m too eager to break your lovely hole in. I’ve been thinking about it all through the audience.”
“Me, too,” the king rasped.
“Are you sure, Your Highness, that you did not rather think about the contraption I will force into you, once I am done?”
The king blushed prettily beneath his red blindfold. “Can I not have thought of both?”
Nigel chuckled. “Oh, you’re a royal whore, I bet you could. It’s too bad there’s no-one there to fuck the contraption into you beside me, or I could take your throat while you ride it. Give you both at the same time, not only in your thoughts."
The king whimpered.
Nigel undressed with the efficiency and orderlyness of a servant, and an elegance only the Groom of the Stole possessed.
“Don’t be disheartened, Your Highness, I have thought of something. If I mount the implement on a wall, I should be able to fuck you by your mouth against it in a way that satisfies both ends, and my humble self, but we won’t be doing this, tonight. Tonight I will come in your arse, and then I will stretch it til you lose your mind the old fashioned way.”
“The board?” The king whined. With the blindfold on, he could not see Nigel’s evil smile.
“Why, certainly, Your Majesty.”
He carefully undid the six wooden screws, keeping the boards pressed together, two in the middle, four at each corner. He did so by increments, all six at the same time, and while he did it, the king was panting and whimpering.
“Almost done, Your Majesty. It’s a nasty device, I know. But so very effective. I bet you did not think about affairs of state at all in the last thirty minutes.”
“No,” the king admitted. “I did not.”
“Very good,” Nigel praised, patting the naked butt fondly.
“Off it goes.”
The king hissed as Nigel first lifted the upper board, then gently peeled his dick off the lower board and put it and all its screws aside for later cleanup.
“Oh, that looks painful,” Nigel cooed. “So many deep indentations. But look at that. It is already rising.”
The king moaned as it did.
“I better not touch it right now. I bet it is mighty sore.”
“Please, touch it,” the king begged. “I can take it!”
“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Nigel said, kissing the royal butt, again. “But I don’t want you to have to do that. I want you to come from your cunt. Can you do that for me?”
The king shivered in his bonds. “I will try, Master.”
Nigel nodded in satisfaction. “You do that.”
He lubed the king up and then himself.
“I know how you like it so very big, Your Majesty. I must apologise again for being of quite average size. I know the lack of preparation makes me feel bigger, but that it’s not nearly enough.”
“Nigel!” the king whimpered. “You know you’re enough. Always!”
Nigel spanked the king hard. “You don’t call me that while we play!”
“Yes, Master. I’m-” He inhaled in shock.
“You are what?”
“I am ready to take you now?” the king said, sheepishly.
Nigel laughed. “Would you look at that? He is learning.”
The king huffed.
“Now don’t ruin it with huffing!” Nigel reprimanded. “Body language can also be self-deprecation.”
“Yes, Master. Thank you for correcting me.”
Nigel fisted his hard dick and sighed in relief. Then he shuffled up to the tied king and forced his dick behind the tense ring of muscle. The two men groaned in unison. “God, you’re so tight!” Nigel breathed.
The king just grunted.
Nigel was quick to find a rhythm he enjoyed. The king clenched down on him as best as he could - which was quite good - while Nigel rode him in abandon. “I’ll fuck you open so wide you can take my fist to the elbow,” he panted. “I’ll make you come from your cunt, just like we said.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” the king chanted. His muscles were bulging with how hard he tried to fuck back into Nigel but couldn’t because of the bonds.
“I know you can’t come like this, Your Highness,” Nigel said, with just the right amount of condescension. “You need bigger. But fear not, I’ve got bigger, and you’ll get it. As soon as I’m done with your hole, it won’t need its tightness anymore.”
“No, it won’t,” the king agreed eagerly.
Nigel buried his hands in the king’s locks and pulled hard. It was this, that the king let him pull his hair, did not even protest but just groaned low, more than the incredible stimulation of fucking his slick hole that pushed Nigel over the edge.
As always, he forced himself in as far as he could go and spent deep, deep inside. The knowledge that his come would mingle with the rest of the lubrication, that it would be fucked deeper by a wooden phallus, was another special kind of thrill for him.
Nigel took the first contraption out of its oil bath. Like the two others, it was made out of the prettiest mahogany Nigel hat ever seen, the wood dark from all the oil but still glistening with a deep, red sheen.
“Seeing as last time I tired before you were destroyed to both our satisfaction, you will ride yourself open on the first two contraptions, and I will use only the biggest one on you “
The king sucked in a shaky breath.
“Yes, Master.”
Nigel inserted the contraption into the pedestal he had devised recently.
“Watch!” he demanded. “I expect you to be able to mount the second contraption yourself, as I am going to take a little nap in the royal bed while you prepare yourself.”
Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the king’s erection jump at the blasphemy. His face, however, was stern and stately. Or at least it tried to be. It was also flecked with embarrassed red and very sweaty. The king hat stopped rubbing his wrists only a few moments ago and now came to stand beside Nigel.
“The base of the contraption goes here. See how I have had it perforated at five points? This is where the pegs go.” He demonstrated. “I told the woodworker making the pedestal that I need it for equestrian training and that it should be able to withstand the shenanigans of an exceedingly headstrong stallion.”
The king cleared his throat, blushing a deeper shade of red.
“Now the three narrow steps are where your feet go. You won’t need the fourth one for the fist contraption, as it is not as high, but you will be thankful to have it for the second one. Now lie on your back, Your Majesty, and I will aid you with lubrication. You will have to relubriacte yourself for the second contraption - and don’t you dare skip that! - but you will already be open and slick, then, and it will be easier.”
Nigel pointed at the floor by his feet, right next to the pedestal that now mounted the contraption.
“You know what position to take,” Nigel said.
The king lay on his back, raised his legs and presented his ass.
Nigel’s mouth watered looking at it. But not now. Now was about getting the king ready.
Nigel took the funnel and pushed it in carefully, as far as it would go. Then he uncorked the fragile crystal bottle holding the olive oil and continued to drip it into the funnel. It rose to the brim and stayed there.
“No, Your Highness, this won’t do at all. You have to relax or the oil won’t go in.”
He watched the king struggle to do as he was told, adding oil little by little as it disappeared into the royal behind.
“That should be enough, I think,” he said after a while, extracting the funnel. “Now push your fist against your opening so that you do not lose half the lubrication and mount the contraption. As it is your first time doing so, I will aid you here, as well, but pay attention. I will not take well to being woken because you have forgotten how to do this.”
“Yes, Master,” the king mumbled. The redness had spread from his cheeks over his throat to his pale chest.
It was a degrading, slow shuffle for the king, getting up with his fist between his buttocks and covering the small distance to the pedestal, then mounting it.
“Your feet go here,” Nigel instructed. “And you lower yourself until the tip touches your fist, then clench as hard as if you were trying to please my cock before taking away your first and substituting it with the tip of the contraption which will then act as a stopper, trapping the oil inside yourself until you have inserted the first bulb into your royal behind. Should you leak a little, it does not matter. It will add to the lubrication of the tool itself.”
The king followed the instructions to the letter, gasping the second he switched his fist for the wooden tip.
The device consisted of five bulbs that grew incrementally larger. While the first was smaller than Nigel’s cock had been, the last one was quite a bit girthier.
“Eventually, you will be able to sit down all the way on the contraption. Comfortably, mind you! I do not want you to hurt yourself! If I find you have tried to force this, going too fast in unbecoming eagerness, I will desist from using the third contraption on you.”
The shadow of displeasure crossed the king’s features but was gone in an instant.
“You will know to switch for the second largest contraption. This one you will have to work into yourself until you can not only sit on it, but rise from it and fall back on it fast, without real discomfort.”
They were in the king’s antechamber, and Nigel walked over to a small sideboard only he had the key for. He took out a slender candle on a stick.
“I expect you to take at least until this candle has burned out. Do not dare to wake me any earlier.”
The king gritted his teeth. “Yes, Master,” he pressed out, and Nigel smiled at him.
“Don’t be too loud, or you’ll wake me. If I find you disobeyed any of my instructions, I will not give you the depraved pleasure you crave, but I will lock you back between the boards and give you a good switching to mend your ways.”
The king’s eyes turned round at this, and Nigel could watch his determination to do as he was told increase tenfold.
Nigel patted the king’s cheek, because the king enjoyed such belittling gestures when they were playing, then he turned around and left the king to his own devices without sparing him a second glance.
Nigel woke to soft kisses to the heel of his feet. He groaned and stretched lazily, setting eyes on the king kneeling next to him on the bed in all his glorious nakedness.
He looked as needy as Nigel had ever seen him, debauched, really, with his hard dick dripping the clear liquid of desire and his eyes dark with it. He had a maddened look about himself, and his breathing was deep yet fast.
“I am ready,” he whispered, as if afraid of his own voice.
“Let me see,” Nigel ordered, and the king turned around and presented his ass. There was a veritable hole where, not too long ago, Nigel’s cock had been, a cavern, really.
Nigel experimentally pushed his fist against the stretched rim, and it went in without too much resistance.
The king whined like a bitch in heat.
“I see you have desisted from completion, Your Highness,” Nigel commented with no little amount of satisfaction.
“Yes, Master,” the king panted.
“Well, well. So much obedience and consideration need to be rewarded immediately. Lie on your back in the middle of the bed and make yourself comfortable.”
Nigel took the third contraption out of its oil bath, wondering, not for the first time, how it could ever fit a human body. But it could, and it did, Nigel had seen it many times before. He carried it over to the king, together with a fresh bottle of oil. True to his instructions, the king had emptied the last one.
This time, Nigel did not need the funnel, he just poured the oil into the wide open anus, watching in fascination as it disappeared, some of it sloshing over and rewetting the king’s glistening behind.
Nigel hefted the contraption against the king’s hole, creating a stopper for the oil, then told him to rotate and place pillows below his hips until his hole was at the right angle.
Nigel braced himself for a most exhausting workout. This part was not for him, it was solely for the king.
The first two bulbs went in without problem - they were as big as the last two of the second contraption - but the third was larger, and there was a little resistance and no small amount of moaning from the king.
“Yes, you are very ready indeed, Your Majesty. I am sure your cunt will have a good time, and your little member will be able to spurt without further assistance.”
In truth, the king’s member was not small. On the contrary, it was fairly big. Bigger than Nigel, in any event, but the belittling just made the king moan all the louder.
Nigel used his body weight to press against the contraption, degrading the king a little further while he pushed it in in increments, telling him what a harlot he was, what a strumpet, worse than the cheapest street whore. How he should try getting fucked by his own horses in the stables, because surely a human cock would no longer be able to satisfy him.
The king did not reply to any of it, other than moaning and writhing and whimpering. Nigel loved it when he reached that place where his speech failed him and he became a puppet to his desires.
When Nigel had managed to push the fourth of the bulbs in, the king came. He was speared open so brutally, he couldn’t move much. He just twitched and spasmed against the contraption like he was having a fit, crying and screaming, then slumped forward, barely conscious.
Nigel very carefully wriggled the contraption out of the king’s ass, who did not put up any resistance, even though it must have hurt. Nigel put the contraption away to clean, later, and gently palpated the king’s rim and hole, checking for blood and tears. Satisfied that the king was not injured, he went to collect the hot water and fresh towels he had ordered from where they had been placed in front of the door and continued to wipe the king off all the filth. He was not sure if the king was still awake and inhabiting this blissful space he often entered when they did this, or if he had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed, his face lax and looking younger than usual.
The king did not make a noise, and Nigel did not speak. He made sure to lock all doors leading to the chamber, then got into bed with the king, both of them still undressed. Skin to skin contact helped with the aftermath of their rough play. Nigel did not know why, but he did not need to. He wrapped his king in his arms and listened to his slow breathing, placing a last, gentle kiss on his exposed shoulder, before dragging the heavy blanket over them both.