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The dining room of Pirkstein’s upper castle was peaceful that night, only the quiet sounds of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of old wood breaking the usual evening lull. The two glasses upon the table were slightly rocking, while the wine inside was gently swaying back and forth along with the rhythmic rocking of the dining table. His head resting very close, Henry was trying to focus on the perilously perched cups and keep quiet, as Lord Radzig was casually fucking into him.
It was Henry’s duty, to come and help out his liege in any way he was able. It had been a great honor bestowed upon him, when, months ago, the powerful Lord of Skalitz had offered to take him under his tutelage, as his squire. It was a wonderful opportunity, for a commoner like him, and Henry was so very grateful. He hadn’t known much about the job then, of course: a boy like him had never even seen a knight, let alone known all the hard work needed to take care of one. But Sir Radzig had been very patient with him, and Henry had learned a lot since his younger days.
Right now, his duty was to help the nobleman relax during a meeting concerning matters of the land. His job was simple: lay where he was instructed, meaning on his back on the dining table, and keep still and quiet as he was used, while the Lords worked. Sir Radzig’s hands were not on him: they were holding various papers and missives, as his hips worked in small and calculated humps against Henry’s bum. His gentle and fatherly face was focused on the words Henry’s simple mind could not read, entirely uncaring of the boy he was fucking. Which was just the way things were meant to be between a knight and his squire, as Radzig had wisely taught him, when Henry had been even younger: back then, he had begged and cried and even screamed upon being penetrated by his large stalk for the first time, causing his Lord great shame.
Thankfully, his Lord was very patient, and very forgiving. Now, Henry could keep quiet even under the worst of duresses: he was, after all, often surprised by a sudden penetration in his sleep, in the war tent on the road, when noble Sir Radzig had heard distressing news, and barely made a sound any more. He would cry, surely, especially because Sir Radzig would often quickly and brutally use his fragile little hole, since his distress was often quite great in these moments: but he always kept it silent, and was very proud of himself for it.
He was still focusing on his Lord’s glass of wine, still standing besides his rocking head. Henry would have to refill it very soon: his duties were many, and he had to fulfill them at all times, after all. He tried to think on how to refill the cup without disturbing his Lord’s work nor dislodge his large cock from his hole, but the thoughts quickly escaped him. It was very difficult for Henry to think while he fulfilled his role of squire. He was meant to look impassive, and unbothered, and always remain calm and calculated even during the most stressful of situations: keeping calm and listening to possible information, especially if a rival Lord was using him.
But it was quite hard: even now, his young, pretty face was showing signs of pleasure he was struggling to hide. His Lord’s instrument was quite large, and despite all the lessons he had been given for all these months of training, it was very difficult for him not to succumb to the sinful pleasure it was forcing upon him. Sir Radzig, various nobles and passing knights, and even Rattay’s priest had told him, repeatedly, often as they used his little hole, that feeling pleasure during such serious duty was a sin: that his work was as much to appease his betters’ sinful bodily urges than to teach him to control his own, and that the nobility was terribly generous, to offer to try and fix his unnatural pleasure during the act of sodomy. But Henry’s pleasure had unfortunately only grown bigger as the months went by, as he had confessed to the poor priest as he’d serviced his cock with his tongue in the confessional: the priest had sighed, and had forced him to choke on his stalk until Henry passed out, in order to help in his training.
Radzig’s own thighs were simply unlaced at the crotch, to allow minimal contact with an impure commoner such as Henry. Henry’s own were opened at the back, thanks to a small bum flap that could be unlaced to allow any noble quick access to his anus for a fast bout of relief: it had been a gift from Sir Radzig, to facilitate Henry’s work, especially while they were traveling on the road. The tailoring of the interesting garment had taken them a good afternoon: Henry had not been entirely sure why a simple cut and re-sewing had taken so long, but when Sir Radzig had taken him to the Rattay tailor, the artisan had been very insistent upon it. He had asked Henry to stand nude in the back room of his shop, his hands wrapped obediently behind his back, and had measured all parts of his lower body for it: his old veiny hands had forced Henry to spread his legs, had rubbed his small cock until it was hard in all its unimpressive length, and had fingered Henry’s hole for long hours, all while speaking of local affairs with Sir Radzig. He had then instructed Henry to bend over, his hands wrapped around his thin ankles and his head hidden between his legs, in order to measure the canal of his anus. He had warned Henry that his instrument would be very long, and very hard, in order to get a perfect measurement: but even with a warning, it had still been an unpleasant inconvenience for him, that left him limping for a few days afterward. Thankfully, the clever little flap made it quite worth the effort.
He was interrupted in his thoughts by a high pitched voice, squealing next to him: “Oh…Please, uncle…Give me some- some rest…”
Henry turned his head on the table: next to him, his fellow squire in training, the noble Sir Hans Capon of Pirkstein, was similarly occupied; lying in the same position as him, his back against the table, his thighs lowered just enough to allow access to his little bum while keeping decent in public. His long legs were up high and straight in the air, both his fancy pointy shoes bouncing helplessly upon the large and strong shoulders of his uncle and guardian, Sir Hanush of Leipa.
“Enough, boy,” the large man growled, interrupted in his discussion with Radzig by the impertinent youth. “Why can’t you be more like young Henry there? Keep your mouth shut as your betters talk.”
“Y-yes.”
“Yes, what?,” asked the angry Lord. As correction, he sped up his hips: hitting the smaller man underneath him with almost bruising strength.
The delicate blonde tensed and yelped: pushing his hands against his uncle’s large belly, as if to push him away, to no avail. “Yes, sir! Yes, sir!”
Henry’s small anus pulsed in sympathy at the sight. Sir Radzig was well-endowed, but nothing like Sir Hanush: his blade was so large that most bathmaids could not take him, and he had had to train his nephew from a young age to satisfy his needs, so as not to hurt a poor innocent commoner, or worse, a noble damsel with his urges. It showed: Hans’ little flower had long since turned almost inside out with the brutal use. It was deeply abused, red from constant penetrations by his uncle and various different nobles. Even now, it stretched tight around Hanush’ large instrument: Henry realized, with a slight shudder, that it was the size of Hans’ forearm.
The poor little hole could not even close anymore: it just winked prettily, red and constantly leaking from various gentry’s noble emissions. Which didn’t help the beautiful boy one bit, as the sight often spurred on his elders to use him even harder, and more often. Many times had Henry been redressing after servicing a noble in a private room at a feast: only to see an exhausted Hans lying face down on a piece of furniture, crying softly and uselessly, as noble after noble stepped between his legs, for a long night of use.
Sometimes, a generous knight or another would ask noble Sir Hanush if he’d allow a servant of theirs to empty themselves in the little noble: Hanush would often agree, the clever politician that he was, in order to garner alliances. It made Hanush quite popular amongst the serfs of the region: but being abused by a commoner was even worse for poor Hans and his dignity. He had already gained a moniker within the tight- and, hopefully, discreet- circles of noble knights and their servants: Rattay’s toilet.
Right now, both his delicate hands go back on his bum, holding his small cheeks open wide for his uncle’s use: Sir Hanush was a very busy and very tired man, and did not like to work for his entertainment, and so, his little nephew was carefully instructed to keep himself available and accessible at all time, to minimize the large man’s effort.
Sir Hans’ face was showing clear signs of exertion and distress. Just as Henry, his greatest trial in his apprenticeship was controlling his emotions: he was even worse than him, in fact, often loudly crying and begging for mercy. Thankfully, his uncle seemed to like it: it allowed him to punish him much more often, with slaps and bondage, which was one of Hanush’ great delights in the matters of the flesh.
Feeling a pang of sympathy, Henry turned to his liege: “My Lord, if I may?”
Sir Radzig hummed thoughtlessly, spurring Henry on to ask, his voice as stable as he could manage despite his body being suddenly more powerfully rocked back and forth: “May I help Sir Hans with his duties?”
Radzig sighed, then turned to Hanush: “If Sir Hanush allows it.”
“Oh, why not,” Sir Hanush grumbled. “If it keeps the brat calm as I finish.”
Softly, Henry reached out: taking one of Sir Hans’ hand from his white-tight hold on his bumcheek, and holding it softly between their two bodies. “It’s alright, Sir Hans: remember your lessons, and it’ll be alright.”
Hans shook his head: his pretty blonde hair was limp against his forehead, the bright color darkened by all his sweat. His eyes were open wide in panic: but, Henry noticed, his eyebrows were pinched high together upon his brow, and his mouth was opened and panting softly. Hans was very bad at hiding his emotions: he very obviously was lost in unwanted pleasure. When Henry looked down, his small penis was clearly hard: hard and bouncing quite happily upon his flat belly. “I…I just want a rest.”
“Sir Hans, you know you are not allowed.”
“But…Just a few minutes…I can- I can use my hand, and-”
“He has not asked for your hand. If your Lord uncle wants your bum, you have to give him your bum.”
“But- but it hurts…”
Henry looked at the other squire sternly: the effect a bit wasted with his heavy lidded eyes and red cheeks. He did still give a very pointed look at Hans’ little cocklet, bouncing quite happily on his stomach. “I don’t think it really hurts. I think you’re lying to get out of work. But- even if it does, if a noble wants to hurt you, he’s allowed to hurt you.”
“Fuck,” Sir Hanush groaned then, his hips suddenly going much harder against the little white bum of his nephew. Henry watched as Hans’ mouth and eyes opened wide: taken by surprise by the sudden unexpected pleasure inflicted on him. “Fuck, Radzig, you really did a good job on that one. So fucking naive, he’s even helping us out.”
For a short moment, Henry was a bit confused at the words: even more so when Sir Radzig laughed lightly above him. “Yes. Henry is a bright eyed, obedient thing.” He gave a little hum of approval, as his own hips went a little faster: Henry gave a little yelp at the increased rubbing. “He’s very much like his dear mother, in this regard.”
Sir Hanush gave out a bark of laughter. “You dirty fuck. I can’t wait until you tell him.”
“Henry, why don’t you remind Hans of his duties as a squire?” Sir Radzig continued in a voice much more familiar to Henry: the kind, fatherly one, that always made him feel calm and safe, even now as he was being plowed with almost aggressive force. “I’m sure it’ll relax him just to talk.”
Henry nodded, and turned his head towards Hans on the table again. The poor boy was now really panicked: his eyes were wide and wet, and his free hand was pushing against Hanush’s belly again. He was even wiggling his lower body, as if trying to get away from the forced pleasure. But that wouldn’t do: they are not allowed to run. “Sir Hans: remember what we’re here for. Our duties serve the people of Bohemia as much as our Lords:
“I know! I just- I- I don’t like this!”
“But you want to be a knight, one day, don’t you? A noble in charge of your estate?” Hans nodded desperately, his wide eyes riveted to Henry’s face. His mouth was wide open and panting harder now, that his uncle was really plowing him. “Well, you have to go through your training of squire, first-”
Henry was interrupted by another yelp. Sir Radzig’s pumps were starting to gain in intensity now, as if, for some reason, spurred on by Henry’s words.
Instinctively, he tried to crawl away, his mind still sometimes panicking at being used: but he quickly corrected himself, falling back down on the table, the whole time keeping his wide eyes steady on Hans’ face. Hans was staring back at him with eyes just as wide: the both of them trying to fight their pleasure, to no avail. His own mouth was starting to pant, and it was getting a bit hard to keep talking in the dignified manner he was taught. “-F-first, and then, once your- your liege has deemed you well-trained, you can become a knight.”
“Mm,” Sir Radzig hummed over them both. He lowered the papers he was holding to the table, putting both his hands on Henry’s hips instead to hold him steady as he plowed harder. Henry, now well accustomed, recognized the signs of an incoming peak: and dutifully tightened his anus, to increase his Lord’s pleasure. Sir Radzig hummed again in approval at the sensation: making Henry preen, even as he panted. “And- why are squires required to help noblemen in such a way, Henry?”
Still staring into Hans’ panicked eyes, Henry continued to explain: “Because a squire’s duty is to help and support their liege…”
The pumping became harder in punishment: bad answer. Henry let out a yelp of surprise. “But why in this way, specifically, boy?”
“Because Knights stay far away from home, and their wives. And they need- ugh- they need comfort during the long nights…In camp…”
“That’s right, Henry,” Radzig said, very patiently. “And why are young squires the most apt to replace wives?”
“Because wenches aren’t supposed to follow men into war…Because…Abusing bathmaids is…A sin…”
“And?”
“And…augh…Hn…” Sir Radzig’s hips were now pumping quite hard, tearing little moans of both pleasure and despair from the younger man. Henry wanted to tell him to stop, or slow down, at least, because he couldn’t focus on his lesson, and it hurt a little bit: but he, of course, wasn’t allowed to interrupt a noble’s pleasure. In front of him, Hans had started softly crying: staring at him as they were rocked back and forth in tandem. Their liege Lords were so kind, to plow them at the same pace, so they could still talk. “Because squires…Are picked for…For…”
A hand left his hips, and forcefully slapped his bum. Henry yelped again. “Focus, boy.”
“For their- their submissiveness! Their unnatural femininity!” He panted harder at the unrelenting pace. “Their- Squires benefit…By learning their…Their places-Oh! Oh!…Under a real man…Learning how to be…Men.”
“Very good,” the Lord nodded. “That is why I selected you, Henry, among all my subjects: because from the start, I could clearly see you were lacking as a man.” The hand he had used to slap Henry now reached towards Hans, and he used it to squeeze his small sack, causing the boy to jump in additional shock. “Just as our little Lord, right here.”
Next to him, Hans tried to speak: but instead, he only let out a long moan of both pain and pleasure. Henry let out a tiny moan of his own in sympathy, still staring into his eyes.
“Henry,” Sir Radzig said, in his kind, fatherly voice. “Why don’t you help sir Hans some more?”
Henry almost didn’t understand: he was too lost in unbearable pleasure by then. But Sir Radzig, kind as he was, guided him: pulling him by his hips, so he’d be closer to Hans on the table. Their wide opened mouths met: at first, they just panted into each other’s mouth, helpless to do anything else: until Hans, still softly crying, gave a kittenish little lick to Henry’s upper lip, looking for comfort. Henry answered by instinctively licking at his tongue in turn, until they were softly licking into each other’s mouths: softly moaning and crying against each other the whole time, their eyes still wide open and staring at each other.
“Oh fuck,” Sir Hanush groaned. “Look at the little pups go.”
Sir Radzig hands tightened on Henry’s hips: a proof of approval. “You’re doing wonderful, Henry.”
Oh, he’s going to say it, Henry thought to himself, entirely lost in pleasure. Oh, oh, oh, yes, yes…Oh…
“Mmm…If only your parents could see you now…” Radzig hummed thoughtfully, his hips going a bit harder at the thought. “I’m so proud of you, son…”
The intense sensations, combined with the wonderful, mysteriously pleasing word, finally became too much for Henry. His eyes rolled back as he spent himself on his shirt, a long, low pitched uhhh leaving his mouth as he did so. The whole time, Sir Radzig kept pumping into him: entirely uncaring of his orgasm.
Lost in his pleasure, Henry still turned his head to the side to watch, as Sir Hans was pulling on his hand: only to realize it was only pulling on account of the way the other boy was being brutalized. His body was rocked back and forth so hard his head was hitting the table in a manner that looked painful: and his uncle’s hands were holding both his ankles painfully down, almost to his ear, to keep him from running away.
“Look at me,” his uncle groaned threateningly. “Look at who’s making you come, you worthless little whore.”
The boy was now staring mesmerized at his uncle, eyes and mouth wider than ever. He looked almost shocked by what was happening to him, as if taken by surprise by his own enjoyment: until it all came crashing down on him. First, his eyelids began to flutter, his eyes crossing in unwanted pleasure: and then, his head was thrown back, eyes still crossed ridiculously, his mouth opening wide as he let out a cute, almost feminine little ah, ah, ah! No! Uncle! of reluctant delight, and as his little cock spurted wetly on his fancy favorite golden gambeson.
Just like Sir Radzig, Hanush didn’t let up: taking the rest of his pleasure just as brutally. Henry kept staring at the sight, fascinated: it almost looked like rape. But it couldn’t be rape, of course, because it was their duty: you couldn’t rape a squire, as Sir Radzig had explained to him, just like killing a pig wasn’t murder: it was what they were for, after all. And in any case, even with all his moaning and struggling, Hans was clearly enjoying it, now fucking himself back against his uncle, his little bum giving lazy volleys against the fat hips, eager for more.
Henry let out his own little plaintive moans of pleasure at the sight: tightening his hand around Hans’ in sympathy, as his own Lord was still fucking hard into him despite his orgasm.
At the sight of Hans’ reluctant orgasm, Sir Radzig finally tensed up: and, with a final thrust, slammed himself painfully into Henry, and came.
“Take it, son,” he said, casual as ever, sounding barely affected. “Take my noble seed. Be honored.”
Breathless and panting, Henry nodded: next to him, Sir Hanush gave out a long groan of pleasure, and came as well. He didn’t stay inside his nephew for long: again, the Lord of Leipa was a busy one, and he soon pulled out, letting half his sperm spurt out with his exit. Hans’ legs fell down upon the release: falling against the table, wide apart at the knees, one of them falling against Henry’s side.
Hanush wasn’t as caring as Sir Radzig about his precious seed: it leaked out from Hans’ destroyed flower, along with the loads of Captain Bernard and others, the gaping hole unable to close anymore and keep it all in.
A little fart escaped Hans’ traumatized anus: and a bigger spurt of sperm shot out with it, falling wetly onto the floor. The young man was too out of it to notice, practically unconscious on the table. Next to him, his uncle picked up his miraculously still full cup of wine: and casually drank it, entirely uncaring of the state of his ward.
Henry was quite glad to be Sir Radzig’s squire: he was acting almost like a father, to him, and Henry quite liked it. Just as he thought so, his liege pulled out of him: fast enough that it made Henry hiss in pain: but still, it was better than Hanush.
And- surely, Sir Radzig didn’t do it on purpose, anyway.
“Now, young squire,” the nobleman said gently as he laced back his thighs. “What do we say?”
In a trembling voice, Henry said: “Th-thank you…Thank you, my L-Lord…”
The gentle lord smiled. “You’re welcome, my squire.”