|Illustration by Joe T|
Sometimes the beauty of the world left him breathless. He gently reined his horse to a stop, lifted the steel helm off his head and sat there looking at the panorama. Incitatus, his black stallion, seemed to be appreciating the landscape too, his glossy head held high, breath and body steaming in the early morning air. The life of an itinerant knight was hard, but moments like this were good for the soul. Edwin slowly turned his head, taking in the sight before him.
At the bottom of the valley a silver stream, twinkling and gurgling in the morning sunlight, meandered into the distance, its lush green banks broken occasionally by the brilliant red-and-white splotches of fly agaric mushrooms. To the left, in a clearing beyond the river, a circle of eight pairs of huge stone pillars with horizontal lintels connecting each pair stood like gigantic dominoes, streaked with moss and shining wetly in the morning dew.The sides of the valley were covered with trees - mostly small evergreens, but with the occasional ancient Oak standing proudly above them - and the smell of the pine in the crystal air was as good as any strength potion. Edwin breathed deeply. On mornings like this it was good to be alive.
Beyond the valley, greyed by the mists of distance, was the beginning of a mountain range; and nearer, between the trees, on an isolated hill, Edwin could see the castle. It was not a big one, as castles went, but its dark gothic towers and turrets with their thin, conical roofs suggested possible dangers of more than a physical nature. A shudder ran down Edwin's spine: there was something about the place that, under other circumstances, would have made him give it a wide berth - it seemed to cast a black presence on the otherwise idyllic scene before him. But he had accepted the quest, and he had to go there.
Bored with the view, Inky was grazing half-heartedly on the soft grass around his feet and Edwin smiled, stroking the magnificent animal's neck gently. "We'll be ok," he said, reassuringly.
He wished he could be more certain, though. Young men had been disappearing of late, it seemed. The most athletic, handsome warriors from miles around had suddenly started to go missing - and the rumours were that they had been abducted, bewitched and held - or worse - by Laynor, a dark wizard who owned the castle. Some lads had returned with their memories blanked completely. They spoke vaguely of magic, monsters, and much evil, but when pressed for specifics they were no help at all.
"He's gathering an army," one farmer had told him over a glass of Andurian ale in the inn with the uncomfortable bed last night. "Turning them into fiends of Satan to march against us. On moonless nights you can hear young men's screams coming from that accursed place." Such was the people's fear of Laynor that no-one would go near the castle.
Edwin was a practical, realistic sort of fellow. He respected magic as much as anyone else, but doubted the ability of any one person - dark wizard or not - to entrap so many fit young warriors and use them for his own purposes against their will. The knight made his living by taking on assignments at which others would quail, and so he had gone to see the mayor of Wickham, and offered - for a healthy fee - to find out what was going on and, if possible, to secure the release of any warriors held at the castle. The mayor had been delighted, and had readily agreed to the fee Edwin had asked. "May the gods go with you, Sir Edwin," he'd said - but there had been a sad expression on his face as he'd said it. Edwin was nineteen, athletic, fit, blond, and one of the most good-looking young men the mayor had seen for a long time. Privately, he'd doubted if he'd see the boy again.
And so here he was. He took a final deep breath of the clear morning air, lifted his steel helm back onto his head, and gave the reins a gentle shake. "C'mon Inky, let's get this over with." The horse snorted once, then walked forward indifferently towards the castle, his hooves leaving deep imprints in the soft earth.
The closer they got to the castle, the more brown and leafless the trees became. Swaying gently in the saddle as the horse walked, Edwin was silent, listening. Occasional odd noises, as of unseen animals, came from within the dead undergrowth to each side, and it may have been him imagination, but more than once he thought he saw green eyes watching his progress from the darkness. A cloud had covered the sun, and this seemed a lifeless place - so different from the other end of the valley. A break in the trees offered him a momentary glimpse of one of the castle turrets, and things - were they giant bats? - were flying around it. Edwin crossed imself and gripped his two-handed sword more tightly as they walked on.
Suddenly the trees ended, and he could see the main gate. Instantly Edwin backed Inky up and dismounted, keeping out of direct sight of the castle. He opened a saddlebag and rumaged around inside until he found two vials - one containing a green liquid, the other a red one. Closing his eyes in distaste, he took a large gulp from each in turn. "Oh shit, that's foul." He replaced the stoppers and put the vials back into the bag. The green liquid would give him strength, and the red one would give him some protection against magic for a while. He spat onto the stone path, trying to rid his mouth of the taste, and wondering how something so expensive could taste so dreadful. He ate an apple - slightly better - and then checked his backpack. Everything seemed to be in order.
"Stay here, Inky. Wait for me." He patted the stallion on the flank, nuzzled its head, then set off as quietly as he could around the castle. There was no point trying to get in at the main gate - he'd be seen very quickly.
The walls looked impregnable. Luckily there wasn't a moat, but as he circled the building there seemed to be no way of gaining entrance at all. Edwin was scanning the ground, though, rather than the walls themselves, and using his nose - he knew that more often than not, there was a trapdoor leading to the service areas inside, used for getting rid of the slops, the night soil and other things which any self-respecting owner wouldn't want dumping by the main entrance to his castle.
It was at the northwest corner. He stopped, sniffed, and detected the unmistakable odour of rotting cabbage. Being careful not to be seen, he scrabbled around in the dead leaves and then grinned as his fingers felt wooden planks under the layer of camouflage. Shucking his pack off his shoulders he lay it on the ground beside him and hunted around inside it for his picks. It took him only a minute or two to open the iron padlock and, having replaced the picks and put the backpack on again, he lifted the trapdoor slowly and climbed down the ladder, closing the door above his head. A foul stench greeted his nostrils, and the only light came from a couple of long-burning torches glowing feebly in wall sconces as he made his way along the narrow passageway.
A giant rat as thick as his thigh skittered along the ground towards him, and without thinking he raised his sword, bringing it down hard on the creature. It cut the rat cleanly in two. Grimacing, Edwin scraped the blade clean on some moss, then continued on.
The passageway forked here - to the left or to the right? Squinting in both directions, he decided that neither looked more promising than the other, so he turned left. A little further on he came to another junction. Mazes were fairly common devices to confound invading enemies, and Edwin didn't like them - but it appeared that he was in one now. The gods were evidently with him today, though, because using an arbitary system of choosing alternately left and right turnings, he came eventually to a larger room with crates and boxes stacked against the walls. At one end, a wooden staircase lead upwards to a closed door.
Surprisingly, the door wasn't locked. Very carefully, he opened it and peered out. He was in the castle kitchen, and there was nobody about. Excellent. The sight of a barrel of beer tempted him for a moment, but he needed his wits about him, so regretfully he passed it without sampling its contents.
Outside the kitchen, a corridor led to the main dining hall. Bits of food and empty ale tankards littered the table tops. Edwin listened as carefully as he could - the steel helm made hearing difficult - but there was only silence. Where would the wizard be? Upstairs in a turret or down in some unspeakable dungeon? Edwin had no idea.
Suddenly Edwin stiffened as a scream echoed through the castle. It was not easy to pinpoint its direction, but it had come from a remote part of the building. Deciding that there was no danger from anyone in the immediate vicinity, Edwin quietly removed his helm, to hear better, and waited. A few minutes later there was another scream, followed by quieter, evil laughter. Edwin frowned - he had seen men tortured in many ways, but this hadn't sounded like any scream of pain he'd heard before. And it had come from upstairs somewhere.
Holding his helm carefully so that it didn't clank against his steel platebody or legs, he explored, looking for access to the higher floors. Coming to the main staircase, he paused, then continued on - he'd rather take a less obvious route upstairs if there was one. He passed doors to a living room with a window; storage rooms full of boxes; a cloakroom; a study with shelves of large dusty books. This one he entered, and methodically scanned the oak-panelled walls for secret panels. It was behind the desk, and opened silently with a press, revealing a narrow stone staircase.
Edwin would have liked to wear the steel helm for protection in the event of a swordfight, but he couldn't hear or see properly with it on, and carrying it would mean he couldn't use his two-handed sword, so he put it down just inside the secret doorway. Then, taking a deep breath, he silently climbed the stairs.
The castle had a warren of secret passages, and Edwin had no idea where he was going. However, every few minutes the scream came again, and enabled him to go in approximately the right direction. He passed doorways into other rooms, each with a peephole in it, but all the rooms so far were empty. Then he came to one that wasn't.
Squinting through the peephole, Edwin saw a young man chained spreadeagled to a four-poster bed. He was still wearing his chainmail top and his boots, but nothing else. Edwin blinked in surprise - the boy had an erection like a flagpole sticking up into the air between his legs. Edwin was considering whether to go in and release him or to press onwards to find the wizard, when a strange thing happened. As he watched through the small hole, Edwin saw a pair of hands materialize out of thin air. Each of the hands held a long feather; one proceeded to stroke it up and down the shaft of the young man's cock, while the other hand used its feather to tickle his balls gently. At the first touch, the boy gasped and shook his head in desperation. "Noooo... please.... no more," he moaned. "I can't stand it....." As the feather moved onto the cock-head, stroking and tickling, the boy's voice rose to an urgent, desperate begging. "Pleeease no!!!!! PLEASE STOP!!!!" But the disembodied hands continued their work.
Edwin swallowed, and crossed himself. Magic was most certainly at work here - he must be careful. He wished now that he'd forced himself to drink more of the disgusting red potion. He had never seen anything like this before in his life, and he was disturbed to realize that he'd got the beginnings of an erection at the sight. He reached down and adjusted his cock inside his rough leather leggings.
He passed more rooms, each containing similar sights: good-looking young warriors chained to beds - every one with a rock-hard cock. Some were blindfolded, some weren't; some still wore their leathers - one still had his full plate on - others were naked. And if he waited long enough the hands always appeared. They teased and worked on the boys in different ways: carressing or slowly wanking their cocks; tickling and playing with their balls and arseholes; sometimes squeezing their nipples; if they were still wearing their leggings, the hands moved the leather over the stiff cocks and squeezed them through it. The young warrior in the full plate yelled with lust as one of the hands worked its way up under the steel and tickled the boy's sides as the other hand slowly wanked his cock through his leathers.
He passed room after room after room each with its muscular young man being teased and tormented in various ways. This was clearly where the warriors had disappeared to, but what on earth was going on? He adjusted his own cock - which was now fully erect and leaking pre-cum onto the inside of his leathered crotch - and continued along the passage to another staircase. Thick cobwebs barred the way up the stairs, but he slashed them with his sword. It was a fair bet that the wizard was up there somewhere. As quietly as he could, he made his way up the circular stone staircase.
At the top was a door that didn't look like it had been opened in centuries. To Edwin's relief, however, the cover of the peephole didn't squeak or offer any resistance as he moved it aside. He pressed his eye to the hole and looked.
It was a dungeon. To one side burned a brazier, and torches spluttered on the cold stone walls. Their illumination, however, was drowned by an unearthly red light which filled the room, emanating - as far as Edwin could tell - from a cauldron which bubbled and hissed in one corner. It was not all this, though, which had grabbed Edwin's attention. In the centre of the room there stood a device of sturdy wooden timbers and thick leather straps, which looked exactly like something designed to hold a victim completely helpless. From the peephole Edwin could see that it had an occupant, but the only parts visible to him were the warrior's arms, because Laynor, in blue wizard's robes and hat, was stood between them with his back to Edwin, working on the boy. Every so often the air was rent with a piteous scream from the victim, followed by an evil laugh from the wizard. Edwin couldn't see what Laynor was doing, but judging from the wails of the warrior it must be something pretty terrible. He cursed under his breath and vowed vengeance on the wizard.
Edwin gripped his sword and pushed the door gently - hopefully he could get into the room and close enough to Laynor to strike him before the wizard realized anyone was there. The door opened silently, and Edwin stepped into the dungeon.
Without turning round, the wizard spoke. "Ah, Sir Edwin. So glad you could join us." Another anguished shriek wrenched itself from the warrior victim's lips.
Edwin's sword dropped fro his hand. His entire body had suddenly gone numb, and he was in danger of falling over. Then he felt himself gripped and held upright, as by unseen hands. He was held thus while Laynor finished whatever unspeakable things he was doing to his victim. Between screams, the boy was shaking his head slowly from side to side and moaning. His eyes were closed and he didn't seem aware of Edwin at all.
Seemingly satisfied with the results of his handiwork, the wizard stepped back from his victim. He waved a hand, and for a moment the air above it shimmered, seemed to form itself into a softly glowing yellow ball, and then moved foward and down. Edwin couldn't see where it went or what it was doing, but a frustrated sob came from the warrior. "Back to bed with you," cackled Laynor, and with a snap of his fingers the boy vanished. The leather straps that had been holding him swung for a moment from the now-empty frame.
Laynor turned round, wiped his hands together, and smiled. He looked Edwin up and down slowly. His smile slowly faded, and he licked his lips. "My, you are... beautiful."
Edwin blushed - he'd never been called beautiful before by anyone.
He stepped aside. "Stand in the frame please."
Against his will, Edwin found himself walking towards the wooden frame with the straps. His feet spread and his arms raised by themselves, and the straps closed tightly over his wrists and ankles as if they were alive, holding him defenceless.
"I could hold you still by magic, but it's draining. This allows me to use my skills in other ways, if necessary," explained Laynor. A momentary far-away look came into his eyes - Edwin guessed that he was attending to the guys downstairs - and then his attention was back on his captive knight.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?"
Whatever it was that was holding Edwin made him incapable of speech, so he couldn't answer - but Laynor raised a finger and tilted his head as if listening for a moment. "So, it's the good mayor of Wickham who's sent me another sexy boy. He's so thoughtful." Laynor looked as though he was listening again, then raised his eyebrows. "Ah! So. You come here to undo me. To release my tormented prisoners and to put an end to my torturing of innocent souls! I'm the devil incarnate. I'm gathering forces which I will march, zombie-like, against the people." He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "In this day and age you'd think people would have more fucking sense."
Edwin wanted to speak, but the wizard's spell still bound him.
"Oh, sorry. There - that better?"
The knight felt Laynor's mental hold over him dissipate abruptly. "Yes, thanks," was all he could think of saying. He shook his head to clear it. So far things hadn't gone exactly to plan: he was already in the wizard's power and he hadn't accomplished a thing. So much for that anti-magic potion. He'd be having words with the guy who'd sold it to him - if he got out of this alive. "What are you doing with the warriors you've abducted?"
"Abducted?" The wizard chuckled. "I'll show you, Sir Edwin." He made a complicated pass with his hands, and suddenly Edwin found himself naked but for his boots.
"Oh yes," Laynor whispered to himself, "you are one very beautiful boy..."
The knight blushed bright crimson. "What unholy work is this?"
"Pure perversion, my boy. You'll see. It's always more difficult for me with a new victim - I don't know your body or your mind very well yet - but I'll do what I can. Give me a moment." A far-away look came into his eyes, and then a smile grew on his lips. "Hmm... oh yes, you're suitable. Very suitable. I have to send some away as their... interests are just so limited, but I don't think that will be the case with you. Like many knights, you like leather, I see." The wizards eyebrows rose. "Oh, you like leather very much...! And the touch of cold steel..."
"What???" Edwin had never told a soul about how leather excited him - the sight, the feel, the smell - nor about how the touch of cold steel turned him on. He was mortified with embarrassment that the wizard apparently knew this. "Don't be ridiculous! I have no unnatural liking for such things!"
Laynor gazed at the knight. "Yes you do, and you know it. Please remember who you're talking to. And it's not as unnatural - or as uncommon - as you might think: lots of young knights get turned on by the gear." He stared into the middle distance for a moment, thinking. "Hmm, let me see... leather..." He re-focussed on the boy with a sudden bright smile on his lips. "How about this...?" The wizard waved his hand and his blue robes and hat vanished - to be replaced by a studded leather sleeveless jerkin, tight, bulging leather breeches, leather gloves, and boots.
Edwin stared. Never out of his private fantasies had he seen such a sexy image of black leather.
Laynor gazed at him speculatively. "I wonder - does the sight of me in these leathers turn you on, or would it be more effective to blindfold you?"
"Don't blindfold me."
"I wasn't talking to your conscious mind, Edwin - I was asking your subconscious. That's where the truth is: deep inside. Hmm... That's interesting: the thought of being blindfolded, gagged, and completely helpless under my hands appeals to you a very great deal, I see."
"It most certainly does not!" Edwin felt excruciatingly ashamed of his sexual fetishes. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him. The fact that he was blushing bright red only made it worse.
Laynor laughed. "Then why is your cock hard already?"
Edwin looked down at himself. "You've bewitched it!" But both he and the wizard knew that wasn't the case. Leather did turn Edwin on like crazy, as did the feel of cold steel - that was the main reason he'd become a knight, And, if he were truthful, the idea of being rendered totally helpless by the dark wizard was a wonderful thought. He looked up at Laynor, who was just stood there waiting, a slight smile on his lips. It was clear the wizard could read his thoughts as easily as a book.
"Yes all right, I admit it!" There was no mileage in lying to a dark wizard who could read your every thought, but even so, it had taken a supreme effort of will to admit that Laynor was right. Edwin's mouth was dry at the sight of the wizard before him. His breeches were clinging to his muscular thighs like a second skin, the front a soft leather codpiece which molded itself to the man's form, showing extremely suggestively the steel-hard cock and the large, spherical balls that were stretching it from inside. The boy had often had dreams of gear like this, but it had never been so detailed in his mind - the wizard's leathers perfectly exploited his most perverted fantasies. Laynor was, he had to admit, a very goodlooking man - and in those leathers, unbelievably attractive.
"What wicked magic are you using to make me feel like this?" Asked Edwin belligerently.
The wizard regarded him for a moment. "It would be easier for you, wouldn't it, if I told you I was using magic to make you feel horny, to make you want me. But I'm afraid I'm using no magic at the moment. The only magic working on you is your own lusts. Deal with it."
The implications of this disturbed Edwin. He'd known many men who enjoyed sex with other men - it was a fairly common occurance - but Edwin was straight: on the rare occasions that he'd even thought about it, he most definitely preferred the thought of bedding women. He'd had a good number of them, had fucked them quickly and efficiently, and he wanted more. The thought of having sex with another man didn't appeal in the slightest. At least it hadn't up to now. But looking at Laynor in those leather breeches and studded jerkin made him want to see his bulging black leather codpiece from every angle, to play with it, to lick it, to feel the leather against his bare skin, the man's strong arms around him, the cold steel studs of his jerkin biting into his flesh. And more than anything he wanted to feel the wizard's leather gloved hands gripping his cock, wanking him off quickly to a momentous orgasm.
Laynor smiled. "That could be arranged," he said slowly, "but that's not what you really want, is it? You don't actually know what you really want, boy. But I do, and I'm going to show you..."
Leather brushed his bare thigh, and his heart pounded in his chest as he saw it was the wizard's bulging codpiece. Smiling gently into the boy's eyes, the man pressed it against him, and Edwin could feel the warm resilience of the cock beneath the black leather. It jerked once, and that almost made the knight cum. Laynor chuckled quietly.
The wizard gripped Edwin's nipples, squeezing, twisting, pinching - at first gently, then progressively harder. The knight's face contorted in pain - but to his amazement the pain became pleasure - and then ecstasy. He wanted the wizard to squeeze harder, to crush and twist his nipples...
But Laynor let go. Edwin waited, tensed, ready. What was the wizard going to do now?
Without taking his eyes off the boy, Laynor's leather-gloved fingers began stroking Edwin's balls and inner thighs lightly. It tickled, but it also felt wonderful. He badly needed to cum. The wizard's other hand wrapped very gently around Edwin's engorged cock shaft. Quite involuntarily, Edwin found himself thrusting his pelvis, fucking the hand, trying to get friction enough to cum. But the hand followed his movements exactly, giving not the slightest chance of orgasm. Edwin found this excruciatingly frustrating - his cock was enclosed by a leather-gloved hand but no matter how hard he thrust, it wouldn't fucking move against his cock. With a whimper he gave up thrusting, and now the hand began to stroke up and down slowly, never touching the head. Edwin was hyperventilating - he had never felt anything like this before. Sex for Edwin had always been about fucking - as quickly and as roughly as possible. 'Foreplay' was a word not in his vocabulary. But at the moment he needed to cum so badly it almost hurt.
The hands were removed. Then the wizard embraced the boy in a bear-hug, squashing their bodies together - the leather breeches in contact with Edwin's bare legs and thighs, the bulging codpiece crushing his own cock, the pointed steel studs in the leather jerkin biting viciously into his chest and stomach. Edwin threw back his head in an ecstasy of cold steel, black leather and pain. To cum like this would be transcendental...
But the wizard had not the slightest intention of allowing the boy to cum. With impeccable timing, he released Edwin who, at that moment, gave vent to a scream just like he'd heard earlier, from downstairs.
The wizard whispered into Edwin's ear. "If I'd told you earlier that the other boy was screaming not because I was torturing him, but when I stopped working on him, would you have believed me?"
Edwin was too far gone to be able to answer, but he understood now the nature of the screams he'd heard when he'd been downstairs. They'd been screams not of pain, but of unbearable frustration.
Laynor poured warm oil over the boy's cock, then began stroking and carressing the head. Edwin was circumcised, but his cock-head was still extremely sensitive, and it didn't take much working on to make him cum. Either by magic or by experience, it seemed that the wizard knew this, as his touch was feather-light. The smooth black leather glided on the film of oil, lightly teasing. Low moans started in Edwin's throat, building gradually as the wizards fingers tickled his balls and thighs, and worked on the cock-head, sliding over the glossy purple glans with deliberate slowness, holding it gently at the sides, teasing the ridges, rubbing the frenum, and tickling the piss-slit.
Every so often Laynor's fingers would speed up slightly, wanking the knight to the edge of orgasm - only to stop just before the boy could cum.
Edwin was cross-eyed with lust. His moans had changed into guttural, urgent noises, then into begging and pleading, and finally into piteous screams of frustration every time the wizard stopped, denying him the relief he so desperately needed. He had never in his life dreamed that the need to cum could be so absolutely, so overpoweringly compelling. It was an intensely acute, raging hunger that had to be satisfied now - no matter what. Each time the wizard's fingers stopped moving on his cock-head, Edwin would cheerfully have sold his own death warrant if it meant that he could cum. He gasped with pleasure as Laynor touched the cold steel blade of a sword gently against the very top of his inner thigh, at the side of his balls. Oh fuck, he needed to cum. He needed to cum so badly...
He lost track of time completely as the wizard played his body like a musical instrument, causing him pleasure of an intensity he'd never experienced before. Oiled leather fingers tickled and teased his horny, dripping cock, caressed his balls, squeezed his nipples, or clamped over his mouth, gagging him, while they explored his arsehole gently... And all the time Edwin's eyes were feasting on the sexy black leather of the wizard's breeches, jerkin, boots.
Over and over again Laynor brought him to the very brink of orgasm, only to stop just before the boy could explode violently and pump his spunk all over those skintight black leather breeches. And each time Edwin gave vent to a scream of frustration which was identical to the one he'd heard from downstairs. This was torture of a kind he had never imagined.
Eventually the wizard stopped yet again - leaving him once more poised breathless on the verge of cumming - but this time he didn't begin again. Instead, Laynor waved his hand and the yellow ball of light Edwin had seen earlier materialized in his hands. Smoothly and silently, it sank downwards and enveloped the knight's cock and balls, then disappeared into his body. There was no sensation. "You will not be able to cum now, until I remove this spell," whispered the wizard. "Time for you to have a lie down for a while."
There was a flash of light, and the dungeon vanished. Edwin found himself lying on one of the four-poster beds he'd seen through the peepholes. His wrists and ankles were strapped to the corners, and to his amazement he found that he was wearing the same studded leather jerkin and shiny leather codpiece breeches that Laynor had had on - or ones identical to them. The soft leather clinging to his thighs and legs felt wonderful, and the codpiece - which was even thinner still - was stretched into a tall, tight pyramid above his crotch by his fully-erect cock. As he moved in his restraints, he realized that the breeches must be shiny leather on the inside as well, as at first it clung to his skin and then let go, sliding sexily over his legs. The feel of the leather made him want to cum.
At the sound of a groan, he became aware that he was not alone. There was a second bed in the room, next to his, and a cute, muscular boy lay spreadeagled and naked on it. His long, dark hair fell over his leather blindfold in a fringe, and his pelvis was thrusting in wild fucking movements. Suspended just beyond his cock, were his leather leggings - crumpled up and hanging in mid-air. With every thrust of his hips, the boy's cock slid into their folds, enveloping the head and half the shaft in the cool black leather. One of the legs of the breeches was hanging down between his thighs, and with every movement, the leather caressed and teased his balls. The boy's knees opened and closed rhythmically as much as his restraints would allow, as he tried to grip the sexy leather between his inner thighs. But it was clear that the folds of the breeches were just a little too loose to provide enough stimulus to allow him to cum.
Edwin found the sight unbelievably horny - but his attention was diverted from the boy when the disembodied hands appeared over his own body. They held a black leather hood, and before the knight could resist, they'd pulled it down tightly over his head, plunging him into total darkness. He struggled and fought, trying to get it off his head, but a simple drawstring at the neck ensured that he couldn't. In silent, but horny fury, he stopped struggling and waited. He didn't have to wait for long.
Two fingers began tickling the back of his balls, and then the other hand started to slide his cock around inside the thin leather codpiece. They gripped the base of his shaft and moved it slowly from side to side, causing the sensitive head to slide against the interior smooth, shiny black leather surface. At the same time, more fingers (how many hands were there??) stroked up and down his thighs, tickling and teasing his erogenous zones through the thin, supple leather breeches. Within seconds Edwin was on the point of orgasm, but the fingers kept him there...
The knight heard an evil chuckle, and then the fingers working on his cock gripped the head firmly, and suddenly started wanking him hard and fast. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the most momentous orgasm of his life.
Except that he couldn't cum. He got to the knife-edge, and couldn't go any further. He screamed. The second hand gripped his balls hard through the leather codpiece, massaging them, and the extra fingers were all over his legs and thighs - he was being raped , and if the wizard's spell hadn't been on him, he would be jerking against the restraints in the throes of a shattering, helpless orgasm. But he couldn't cum. His heart pounded in his chest and he was on the verge of passing out. The fact that he was restrained helpless, hooded, and totally incapable of controlling either what was being done to him or his responses to it, only served to turn him on more and make his need to cum even worse. Edwin was in a place that was both heaven and hell. He wanted it to stop NOW! And he wanted it to go on forever...
Then the hands were gone. Edwin lay there, breathing hard, staring wildly into the black leather of the hood, and suddenly it was gone too - as was the gear he'd been wearing. Naked, he blinked in the light. The boy on the next bed was now lying face-down, his tight, round bubble-butt being fucked gently and slowly by what looked like a rubber cock. His long, drawn-out moans of pleasure were muffled by the pillow.
Edwin jumped as something dark appeared suddenly over his spreadeagled body. Suspended in mid-air above him were several sets of the studded jerkins and leather breeches. With a slapping sound they fell onto him, completely covering his naked body in black leather. At the same time he felt the restraints holding his arms and legs loosen, and he could move more. The leather gear appeared to be alive: it slid over his skin, the legs of several pairs of breeches coiling and snaking between his thighs, wrapping themselves around his cock, his balls, his arms, calves, before changing positions and moving to other places. He writhed in a sea of moving black leather. The studs of the jerkins scratched over his nipples, his stomach and chest, and forced their way underneath him until he was lying on their sharp points - the cold steel digging into his flesh. One pair of breeches made their way up to his head and wrapped around his face tightly, blindfolding him, the codpiece pressing hard over his mouth and nose and cutting off his air. He couldn't breathe - and what little air he could get smelled of leather. Again, he was going to cum...
And again, he couldn't. This was even worse than being wanked earlier - this was exposure to his most intense fetishes, and he was incapable of resisting. He existed in a place of pure leather fetish, where only one thing mattered - only one thing was important: to cum.
But he could not cum.
Over the next million years he was subjected to a seemingly never-ending array of stimulus carefully designed by the wizard's fertile imagination to make him need to cum more and more and more. Several times Edwin passed out. But unbelievably intense as all this was, he eventually became aware that what he longed for more than anything was physical contact with Laynor himself in the leather, rather than just the leather itself.
At the moment that realization finally hit him, there was another flash, and he found himself back in the frame, in the dungeon upstairs. Laynor - still wearing the same gear and looking mouthwateringly sexy, smiled gently at the boy. "You see? You know what you want now. Fetishes like leather are all very well, but they need to be animated. They need to have soul."
Edwin, half-insane with lust but still rational enough to understand exactly what the wizard was saying, nodded. He licked his lips and then, drinking in the sight of Laynor standing before him, brought himself to say what he really wanted. In a voice hardly more than a whisper, he said: "Laynor - I want you."
The wizard raised an eyebrow. "But I'm a man. You're straight."
The boy no longer cared. He knew what was important to him now. "I know. But I want you. Desperately."
Edwin had come here to stop - and even possibly to kill - the evil wizard, but now he realized that he felt something very deep for Laynor. Whether it was magic or not he didn't know, but he felt that it wasn't. The wizard had been honest with him, and had accepted Edwin's deepest, darkest secrets without batting an eyelid. Edwin liked him. In fact more than that: he'd got a crush on the wizard. Laynor was turning him on more than anyone ever had. How could anyone be evil, who gave so much pleasure willingly?
Laynor stood for a moment, looking at him, then waved his hand. "Well, you shall have me, beautiful boy." He moved close to the knight, embraced him, pressed his leather-clad body against the naked youth and kissed him deeply. Edwin returned the kiss violently, closing his eyes in ecstasy. It was a long kiss, but time had no meaning just then.
Eventually Laynor drew back, and smiled. Edwin blinked in the strange red light, and feasted his eyes on the leather-clad wizard, who looked good enough to eat. The way he felt at that instant, Edwin couldn't think of any perversion he wouldn't do with the man. Laynor made a pass with his hand, and the yellow ball of light appeared, moving out of Edwin's genitals and back into the wizard's hand. In a moment it was gone. "Close your eyes, Edwin."
Edwin did so, and waited. After a few moments the wizard told him to open them again. The boy smiled again at the sight of the leather-clad man. And then he saw what the wizard was holding in his hand.
It was a branding iron. Fresh from the brazier, it glowed a brilliant, terrifying red. Edwin stared at it open-mouthed, wanting to shake his head, wanting to scream, wanting to get out of here... but something stopped him from doing any of these things - and it wasn't magic.
Calmly, Laynor said, "look at it. Look at the letter".
Edwin focussed his eyes on the back-to-front capital "L".
"What does it stand for?"
The boy could hardly speak. "L-Laynor?"
"It stands for Laynor, and it stands for Leather. You will never again be ashamed of your love for either." The wizard knelt down, took Edwin's cock into his mouth and, looking up into the boy's eyes, pressed the glowing brand onto the front of the knight's left thigh and held it there.
Edwin didn't scream. His body stiffened, his face contorted into a mask of pain the like of which he'd never experienced before, but he didn't scream. Instead of being unbearably, hideously agonising, it was infinitely, inexpressably wonderful.
The instant the brand touched his flesh, his cock erupted, and bolt after bolt of pent-up spunk shot into the skilfully sucking mouth of the leather-clad wizard. Laynor held the brand in place until the knight's balls had pumped every last drop of spunk out of his insanely jerking cock and the boy had collapsed unconscious in his restraints. Then, with gentle hands, he took the knight down from the frame and carefully lay him on a blanket. He looked at the beautiful boy's face for a while, then bent down and kissed him softly on the forehead.
* * *
Edwin nuzzled Inky's nose; the stallion was exactly where he'd left him. Grimacing from the pain of his thigh, he mounted, and with a last look back at the castle, nudged the horse back the way they'd come. When they reached the end of the valley, he turned the horse and stood in the same place as before, looking over the landscape. The small river still gurgled, the standing stones were dark in the setting sun, and the sky - red and gold and pink - silhouetted the castle in the distance. Somehow it didn't look so evil now.
The horse snorted impatiently, and Edwin laughed, patting the animal's sleek neck. He lifted his helm back onto his head. "What are we going to tell the mayor, Inky? We can't tell him the boys are staying because they want to."
Inky had, apparently, no suggestions to offer.
Edwin could easily have stayed at the castle. So easily. But he was 19 years old, and there was a lot of the world to see. Other quests awaited - a knight had to earn his living. He knew he would return before long, and he knew that Laynor would still be here.
"Come on then. Let's not go back to Wickham, eh?" He turned the horse and with a gentle prod with his heels they set off down the path.
The brand on his thigh hurt like blazes, but it was a good hurt. And the wizard had been right: Edwin knew now beyond a doubt that he would never again be ashamed of his love for anything.