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This story, and the characters in it, are purely fantasy works of fiction. But be aware: Sexually active adolescents are explicitly portrayed here. It is NOT intended to be read by underage minors.
~*~
With this theme in mind, I have imaginatively played upon some of its scenarios in an erotic form. You'll find language here both flowery at times of ribald humour. And in this fantasy story I have further embroidered upon what we do know of the medieval Court page with a basic premise much allowing the imagination a free run.
~*~
Every medieval court in Europe engaged boy Pages between the ages of ten to perhaps fifteen and trained them for service. The page had a variety of court duties, and were the personal attendants of the high officials, most particularly the seigneur of the castle, château, or demesne, and were key figures in the smooth running of the domestic affairs of princely and ducal households. The page was an errand boy and messenger, he served at feasts, banquets, hunts and tournaments, and was even present on the battle field.
A boy accepted for induction as a court page, would continue his academic education, together with training for his role. In the medieval Languedoc he would be instructed in the French language of the region which was Occitan, and inculcated in the Cathar doctrine, widely prevalent in the region during this period. He would also be tutored in Latin, elementary mathematica and some philosophy, as well as 'courtly etiquette' and the duties of a page.
As a primary consideration, rather than an incidental one, a prospective page would be chosen for his appealing looks, attractive appearance and manner. It was common to find them slender, leggy, and rather pretty, and they were much looked upon as adornments of status, and a large household might have a complement of fifteen or twenty such Pages.
In the romantic medieval 'Courts of Love', music and verse were in high esteem and Pages were instructed in these arts too, and taught the lute or harp and to accompany it with voice, and dance. After academic lessons, came those of refinement and culture. As the page progressed into puberty he was tutored in the sexual arts: how he might fully express his sexuality with others., have his body enjoyed, and how to render sensual joy in a lover.
There were two designations of medieval page: page Ordinaire and page Corporeal, and the Corporeal was more engaged in intimate personal service to his lord, than was the Ordinaire. If the boy was selected for page Corporeal, his duties and education were extended. The noviceship for page Corporeal was a much sought after and highly coveted position, especially at the splendid courts of important seigneurs. However, only the most comely and attractive were selected. They were often indentured between the ages of eleven and twelve years old, and chosen primarily from the families of other high seigneurs and feudal lords.
Ideally, what the seigneur sought, was a pretty boy of light and fresh complexion, already experienced in the giving and receiving of pleasure, with some wanton forwardness about him. Naturally enough, many such Pages were pretty and effeminate little tarts, well aware of the delights of their young bodies, having perhaps already enjoyed a fulsome sexual licence at home, since puberty.
The attainment of any position as page at a splendid court, was much relished and neither the father, nor his son, would have viewed its sexual environment in any way an immoral arrangement, for in the context of the age it was not of any such consideration.
Though Pages were not enslaved in this office, it was regarded as an honourable commitment, of which the boy's father was particularly aware. It was he who ventured him forth, in the knowledge of his son's attractive qualities, though his concern was not how effectively his pretty son might render his body, but how, by his pleasing ways and appearance, he might advance himself socially and politically.
After his thirteenth summer the page's appearance was checked regularly, and he was depilated as necessary whether engaged in close personal service or not. When serving food and wine at feasts and banquets, he was frequently felt up and for the guest to feel anything but smooth young flesh under the page's tunic, it was taken as an insult.
Fondling Pages was a common and expected practice in the Courts of Love, and a perquisite enjoyed by the lords and dignitaries as part of the proceedings of any festive occasion, feast or banquet. The typical page was a fetching youngster of about twelve or thirteen summers, slender, lithe and leggy, prettily attired and alluring of manner. He was often a precocious nymph too, flagrantly wanton in behaviour, and with the morals of a pansy dolly, well versed in lechery.
When he felt the fondling hands of a dignitary sliding over his thighs, bare bottom and crotch, it was good manners for the page to at least pause before moving on, though much depended on the status of the guest. The page received instruction and advice in how to behave in such situations, was never pressured, but quick to take note of what advantages his peers enjoyed as a result.
As the host, the seigneur oversaw everything, including the behaviour of his Pages, who he considered to be his emissaries at these functions. If a guest was unsure about the relative status of another guest, he only had to observe how the page attended him. This was a truer indicator of his social position than even the sumptuary of his garments.
With a minor official, the page might draw out his courtly attendance a little, briefly submitting to having his bottom stroked, then politely move on. With the more important, he dallied longer, perhaps facilitating his young stiff bare prick being and stroked or sampled through his hosiery, and for a hand to be slid under his crotch. See later about attire, but is was common to many Pages that they did not wear breeks above their hosiery and that therefore, under their tunics their bottoms were bare, as were their pudenda.
For the high-born, the powerful noble, or guest of honour, the young page abandoned all pretence and flaunted himself and lingered by the guest. While serving this dignitary the page might rub against him offering encouragement and pose like a coquette. As he poured the wine he facilitated himself being freely felt up and perhaps sat down upon a lap or two and was kissed and taken advantage of. Then turning he unfastened his hose and gave free access to his naked young cock. Indeed, the important lord expected no less and it was a great compliment to him when the page's cock tumesced in his fingers, if it was'nt stiff rigid. The page would sway and toss as he was masturbated and might be taken across the lord's lap and discreetly fucked from behind.. If the lord was attractive or presentable enough, the page might also voluntarily give him his mouth.
The page's climax and its approach as he romped and was brought off was to the cheers, calls and jolly laughter around of the fellow guests. Of course many dignitaries travelled with their own Pages, but if not, the seigneur would offer one of his own for bedding as dusk descended.
By his fifteenth summer, his physique, looks and voice were changing, and depilating too much a chore for the nurse. The page was then withdrawn from this inner high circle to other services and duties within his lord's domain, or to the estates of other feudal lords, and was no longer a page, for rarely did the seigneur want a page no longer in young adolescence. As they vacated, so they were replaced, and hand picked for their looks, from the households of other high dignitaries. Of those dispensed with, favoured ones rose to high office, or became knights, for there was now the possibility of ascending through the ranks, and this was a good avenue of social promotion, especially when his family were of only minor gentry.
~*~
~*~
Footwear was black Morocco leather pointed toe slippers, with studded cross straps, and upon their heads they wore a jaunty black felt chapeau, tapered at the front with turned up edges, often adorned with little love tokens and trinkets. The Pages Corporeal were differentiated from the Ordinaires by a gold anklet chain worn on the left, and their chapeaux matched the blue of the tunic.
The hosiery of the page was made of fine black silk, or wool in winter, and was a waist high, one piece garment, held fastened by a silk ribbon under the chemise. This arrangement of hosiery was unusual during this period, in not being separate leg stockings attached by 'points' to underbreeks. A deep slanting frontwise fly was provided in the hosiery which ran from behind the scrotum to above the pubis, forming a triangular flap, held tied to one side, in a small bow. When unfastened, the flap would fall aside, exposing themselves, yet was hidden by the frilly flaring of the tunic.
In the way of the court style amongst these horny adolescent Pages, it was a polite observance to leave the fly unfastened if it obscured the genitals, when interested in sexual activity. They took much pleasure in raising their tunics to one another, and being oft erect, it was a signal that they wanted to, at least kiss and rub the other and dally from their duties.
In the evening, after official court duties were finished, around dusk, the Pages stripped themselves of their livery and donned their evening wear. This was a flouncy night gown of fine oriental white silk, which reached down to their ankles, and was otherwise of the same style as the chemise.
~*~
Raymond has three offspring from his previous marriage, two are daughters married off, and then his son and heir who is Jocelyn, a comely stripling of 17 summers.
The year is 1204, and his court and garrison are now replete again, he having returned victorious from the 4th Crusade and the sacking of Constantinople. Raymond, like many of his compatriots, battling in the high heat and filth of Palestine has succumbed to injury and sickness. His leg was wounded and although seeming healed, still gives him trouble walking, and down below, his bowels ache when pissing, and his cock no longer lifts for a pretty face. His ailments show in his ravaged face, that only a year ago was so handsome and that a year hence would see his demise.
He has lately taken a new wife, 13 year old Madeleine before leaving the household to fight. She is sick with worry for him and herself, and she is so pretty. She is his second wife, his first having died of plague. They have an infant daughter of eighteen months, for Madeleine was but 11 ½ years old and enceinte of four months when they married.
Raymond's ailments have brought him low, but his morale was brought lower still, when finding upon his return, he has been cuckolded by a lad and Madeleine is now enceinte of eight months, from the cock of a page.
"How you have whored yourself in my absence," he said.
She replies in an insultingly taunting fashion:
"I was sorely tried, my Lord. Wet and glistening was his cock knob of 7 inches, with which he daily taunted me in my tremblings. For my sanity, I succumbed, my Lord."
Raymond eyed her with a wry smile.
"And you of course Madam are in the knowings, that if I now whip you and kill this stripling, my conjugal duty hereafter, which ought be hard risen and established, lies now barren as the dusts of Palestine."
"M'lord."
"Yet, who?"
"Sire, twas the 14 year old cock of Orvelle, my Lord."
"And as to love?"
"I may say neither yay, or not yay, m'lord, for I have been but his subsidiary for page Orvelle has also daily, and by night the hole of young Pascal he of 12 summers, rooted on his prong in, and out of chambers, M'Lord.
"Of course, maiden. They were deep in love e'en before I left. Is his prong toothsome, my lady, and do you not admire his virile versatility?"
"I feel not as a page, m'lord, for I am ignorant of the ways of boys. I was blind, m'lord, but my hole ached."
"You're both the focken same. Little pretty titty nipples, and an aching hole for cock -- same as a page -- simpering and mewling, fastened on it, then bouncing on the virile jake, wanting a proud belly to show their accomplished lovers." growled Raymond, in bitter anger. "He focked you out of frustration, my dear wife, get hence from my sight."
"Sire, m' Lord."
With venom, Raymond spits out that there's little to tell apart between her and a page of the same age.
~*~
In looks and behaviour, Narcisse is much like a damsel, an exquisitely pretty pansy boy. His complexion is flawless, with cobalt blue eyes, below the perfect arches of a brow curving to a small cute, turned up nose. His features are set in a small, gently contouring face, whose fine set cheekbones gracefully taper round a small cute chin, set below a fulsome, pale ruby and pouty mouth.
In the Narbonne court of his childhood home, Narcisse had spent many happy hours in the company of other boys, peers his age and those a little older. Some were pretty, some were plain, yet all were cute and comely in different ways. They played boy games with each other, and the 12 and 13 year olds would be free to indulge their horny adolescent ways. Their jakes out of their hosiery, barely hidden under their tunics, they rubbed together while kissing, or were sucked, or made out with the younger ones treating them as though they were damsels. As their horniness mounted, pairs would find a comfortable place or pallet and fuck for the afternoon in the other's pert inviting holes. Narcisse increasingly liked being a damsel boy, and by the time he was 10 ½ summers, he was enjoying stiff adolescent jake in his hole, every day.
Whenever talk was bandied around, about Narcisse's future, however, he daydreamed about becoming a page, surrounded by other boys like himself. Approaching 11 summers, and a submissive, sissy little pansy, he is enrolled at Château d'Autignac, and soon becomes its court darling, jaked in every page's bed. He falls in love with the life, its intrigues and romances. They tell him he is exquisite, which he conceitedly knows, and is enthralled to be referred to as a princess.
Jocelyn quickly becomes enamoured of Narcisse, but the darling, now of 12 summers has already given his heart to another. Jocelyn's rival. Jocelyn's rival is Simòn, a stripling page of 14 summers, whom Narcisse professes his love for. He now gives himself to Jocelyn only because he is the Seigneur's son. Yet doubts have lately begun to cross his heart and mind, as to which lad he really prefers. Both satisfy his hole and are careful and loving with their pricks and Jocelyn can be so amusing, and is not rudely demanding. Simon is sometimes quite rough with him, but he knows Narcisse likes that on occasion. However, Narcisse can tell Jocelyn's love for him is very sincere.
In the Great Hall of the château, Jocelyn is presently engaged with him. Jocelyn, naked, is seated comfortably in on a chair and has Narcisse across his lap. The boy is dressed in a in a fine white silk gown and Jocelyn has him arranged contrariwise so as to impale him on his tall stiff cock. His gown flutters, and his long blonde hair, catching the streaming sunlight from a mullioned window, shimmers like illuminated gold as he is being bounced fucked this way. They fuck daily and yet Narcisse is still unsure of where his true heart lies. Jocelyn feels his nethersap rising and squeezes Narcisse as he thrusts up him.
Later, in the Pages chamber.
"Narcisse, do you or don't you, love Jocelyn?" asks Aurèle his best friend.
"Noo... I mean... I don't know. Oh Aurèle," cried out Narcisse, with his knuckles to his mouth.
"Stop being silly. We're sick and tired of this now. Its gone on for months. You're like some silly idiot. Are you married to Simòn in secret?" jested Aurèle, squeaking as his voice rose with emotion. He waved his hand at him again, with a frowning grin
"What is he going to say. What will he do?"
"When you're only Jocelyn's darling, whiling away your idle, naked hours in his satin bed -- nothing.
Besides, your dizzy head will be leagues afar from thoughts of him. Simòn can do nothing to you.
"It's you, you're a naughty little pussy, too pretty to feel honoured. Seventeen year old cock, 6 ¾ inches of it, on the body of so gorgeous a god, and you're dallying about like an old sourquim that's never been focked yet"
"Simòn cares about me though. He looks after me."
"Yes, and do we not all know that. But you know who you want to be in love with, I think, don't you."
"Mmm... oh Aurèle, he takes all sense from my head, e'en from his scent I quiver, but Simòn is my champion. Oh Aurèle, I am lost."
Getting his breath back as he wiped his fingers on his bare thigh. He rolled off him, laughing in shaking giggles. Aurèle made other comments and started tickling.
"You're soaked in spunky nethersap," said Aurèle, eventually making him shriek in hysterics. Then Narcisse accidentally rolled off the bed pallet, which started Aurèle screeching in abandon.
In a little while he calmed down and lying flat on his back with a knee drawn up, he lewdly toyed with himself, gazing into nowhere. Aurèle, propped on an elbow, gazed down at him, still tittering and every time their eyes met he convulsed again, shaking in giggles, now with his gown drawn up passed his nipples so that they were skin to skin with one another.
"Get up please, idiot child," said Aurèle. He did so and leapt on him again, and they deep kissed.
Then suddenly looking up, he eyed Florent who lay on his pallet and he swished over to him.
"Don't bother Jocelyn, he is mine," said Florent, indignantly.
"What?" exclaimed Narcisse in surprise.
"You do not need to bother Jocelyn now," repeated Florent.
"What's the matter with him, Aurèle," he said, calling over to him. Florent looked from one to the other. Aurèle took Narcisse's waist from behind and pulled him to him and spoke into his ear.
"What's the matter now, child?"
"Ask him," said Narcisse. Florent casually pulled his gown down and sat up.
"Dearest Narcisse, did you not see him lust on my mouth? You're a sack of apples to Jocelyn. Did we not see it dropped onto your pallet," said Florent.
"Yes, and each apple, the apple of his eye, dearest Florent. Say nothing more to me now, and I will receive you later, ensconced in his arms, inside his bed... if you would dare spy there." With that, Narcisse turned on his heels and flew to Jocelyn's chamber.
"Oh... now I see, he asked for you." said Aurèle, scratching and preening, as he took Florent in.
"Yes... why would'nt he. Narcisse is a kooky."
"Please abandon it Florent, Jocelyn is in love with him, I suppose... except Narcisse does'nt know who he wants."
"Yes... like a focken kooky, as I said"
Aurèle threw his head back in laughter.
~*~
"Please excuse him, he uses one of his bollocks for a brain," said Aurèle, and they all fell in laughter.
"You're as horny for me as I am for you." protested Berenoise, and Aurèle smothered him in a kiss of agreement.
"Yes, you shall both sleep here. Otherwise I'm sure you would both catch fevers, separated from one another's bodies." said Narcisse, tittering.
"And from our jakes," said Aurèle, and at that, Berenoise kissed his mouth, pulling him into a tight amorous snog. Narcisse, seeing how their mouths and hands lusted over each other, sought his own crotch.
"That just proves you're never wrong about boys, princling," said Aurèle.
"Are you also of five inches, Berenoise?" asked Narcisse, with surprise.
"Yes, and is my blessing."
"We each thought our lengths special on us only," said Aurèle. "And for 12 summers, I think us both blessed." The boys kissed and murmured, then let out, through their opened flies, their jakes, horny stiff and proud, and pushed up their crotches to show them off at Narcisse. He smiled and cooed pleasantly, admiring them, and gently touched each.
"Ah, they are so much the same. Yes, you are both blessed and much know I the joy of my best friend's five inch cock," she said to Aurèle, kissing his best friend's cheek. "I had not seen his before, tis too oft in your hole," she added, and they all giggled and kissed in delight.
From their proffered open crotches, she lightly eased out their young bollocks too, and admired their similarity.
"I will fock with you both, in Jocelyn's bed, when he is not servicing me. How much were you delighted in seeing Berenoise matched you, Aurèle?"
"I could not say at first, for my head was a froth, delighting in his passion, though my noise soon told him how much it pleased my hole."
"He much froths in my hole," said Berenoise, with glee, to more delightful laughter.
"Stop now, you horny tarts, my arsehole is throbbing for Jocelyn now, again.
"I will fetch a new gown for you," said Aurèle, and skipped off to the Pages ward-chamber.
Berenoise was a new Pageboy and had only been appointed since the previous month, to replace a page that had moved on. He was a raging little pansy tart for other boys, and utterly extrovert about it too, without the least reserve. He pulled any boy or lad into sexy kiss on site when he fancied him, and frequently had it returned.
The Court Chaplain had shown him around the busy Château, and Berenoise had already seen many of the Pages about, before he was shown into their quarters. Upon entering, it first looked to him as though it were empty, for the chamber was large, with irregular dimensions. But as he put down his belongings, then looked around, he saw a dream boy.
Aurèle had his tunic off, and was fussing about with his chemise, as he took a breather from duties, for it was a very warm day. He looked over at Berenoise and smiled out of politeness, but felt his willy twitch and tingle, noticing the boy was comely and pretty, like himself. Gazing back at Aurèle, Berenoise was immediately enthralled with ardour. He saw a boy very much like himself, slender and pretty, of about the same height and age, his hair similarly lank and long, though of a darker blonde shade, and saw how sunlight caught and highlighted it in streaks.
Berenoise's dormant willy quickly straightened in the pouch of his hose, and rose stiffly erect, and followed were it led. Approaching Aurèle, he cupped his young bollocks and stroked himself. "I get stuck up 5 inches stiff, near a nice boy," said Berenoise, pushing his crotch out at Aurèle as he came close up to him. Aurèle was lost for an immediate answer but a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. As he glanced down at Berenoise's pronging hose, the confident extrovert boy slid a hand between Aurèle's legs and pulled him into a kiss. Aurèle was stunned by his impudence, but liking it, he responded, and without a word, they began to neck. Their passion mounted and they were quickly feeling and stroking each other up, then rubbing together, as they hectically snogged, stroking each other's peachy rounded bottoms.
"Come, lets knob on the bed" said Berenoise, breaking off as he tugged on Aurèle's hand. He had never heard it put like that before, but with a giggling titter, Aurèle submitted. Then, inbetween their mutual kissing and stroking, they had made their intros. When, in a short while thereafter, Valery, a pretty page of 13 summers entered the chamber, Berenoise and Aurele were clasped to each other, hectically fucking.
~*~
Chapters in the next issue:Celestin, Page Corporeal, The Blacksmith's lad, Roland & Gabriel, coming out soon.