The Prince and his "massage" boys next thoroughly humiliate a pair of British aristocrats.

Arab Royal's Cum-uppance - Part 3
by Richard
Series: Arab Royal's Cum-uppance
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A week after Crown Prince Sheikh Ahmed bin Sultani had concluded his (literal) dressing-down of his Security Guards, he was currently conducting State Business at his Belgravia manse with 35- year-old up-and coming Conservative MP Alastair Drummond-Stewart who was accompanied by his 18-year-old nephew, Nigel Drummond Stewart, the elder stuffed shirt Drummond-Stewart clearly bringing his equally snobby nephew in tow to “show him how it is done.”

The Prince was well aware that Conservative MP Alastair Drummond Stewart was from an “old money” British aristocratic family, but that the family fortune had largely been depleted over the years and further knew that Drummond-Stewart himself was seriously over-extended financially because he insisted on living far, far above his actual means.

However, Drummond-Stewart was still consequently very well connected socially to the crème-de-la crème of British Society, being a member of White’s, London’s oldest and most prestigious gentlemen’s club (no female members), and was socially connected to members of the British Royal Family, including Charles, Prince Of Wales, and Prince William, Duke Of Cambridge, their being members of White’s as well.

Moreover, he had lately risen in the Conservative Party based on his staunch anti-immigrant stance, opposition to gay rights, and opposition to anything remotely “socialist” since, as he haughtily put it, “Britain is far too socialist to begin with.” Further, he had recently shockingly “scored points” by making snippy public comments quoted in The Times about the “unsuitability” of Prince Harry’s marriage to “that Meghan Markle person,” and her “exotic DNA” (barely concealing the racial undertones), further pointing out that she was “divorced and attended a Roman Catholic school,” and was “the kind of woman the Prince would have had for a mistress, not a wife.”

Drummond-Stewart was very pleased with himself, convinced that he had oh-so-cleverly hoodwinked the not-so-smart Crown Prince Sheikh Ahmed bin Sultani into agreeing to a private (secret) oil deal whereby the MP would secretly (and illegally) make a huge profit that would save his family’s declining fortunes, in exchange for the MP using his social connections to ensure that the Prince’s Homeland would receive a lucrative trade deal with Britain. A bit of “influence peddling,” though Drummond-Stewart hated the term since it implied that he was some sort of lowly “peddler” rather than the esteemed member of the British Aristocracy that he most assuredly was.

As Drummond-Stewart delicately nibbled on delicious canapés and liberally sipped a fine Cognac served by a tuxedoed Hakim and Ali, he regaled (actually bored to tears) the Prince with details of his recent holiday in Ibiza with his equally well-connected “Sloane Ranger” wife, Cecily, and their 2 young children as well as boasted about how his nephew, Nigel, had recently graduated from Eton (as had Alastair himself) and that Nigel was soon off to Oxford University.

Drummond-Stewart, in his characteristic “Hooray Henry” voice exuding his loud-mouthed arrogance and air of superiority, continued to boast how his nephew, “dear Nigel here,” was further an “excellent sportsman” who excelled on the cricket playing fields and “keeps himself in perfect physical condition.”

Nigel, whose musculature was indeed evident despite his formal business suit attire, had the good grace to blush a bit at this praise, the stark white skin of his privileged face blushing a bit rosy-pink (further enhanced by his Cognac consumption), under his designer-cut, gingerish hair, as he went “Oh, Uncle Alastair, the Prince is not interested in that!” (which indeed the Price secretly was not particularly interested in, but thought the information had the potential to be actually put to good use).

The Prince therefore responded/lied that “Au contraire, my good friend Alastair, I am always interested in your family’s successes, and I am sure that our little business venture will only add to that success, and admirably so, assuming that our venture is consummated.”

Taken aback, Drummond-Stewart, coughed slightly on his cognac as he sputtered “assuming???- Why, Your Excellency, I was under the distinct impression that it was a ‘done deal’! Whatever do you mean??”

“Well, Alastair, my friend, since this venture involves a great deal of capital that will end up in your pocket, sir, I shall require a demonstration of your esteemed family’s level of commitment and devotion to my Homeland and to me, personally,” replied the Prince, mysteriously.

“Well of course, old chap, my family is deeply committed and utterly devoted to your Homeland and of course to you personally as well!” enthused Alastair in his best “Hooray Henry” voice. “And, er, of course, our family is, as you know, er, in great need of that capital, Your Excellency.”

“So I understand, Alastair. That is why I require a demonstration of your esteemed family’s level of commitment and devotion to my Homeland and to me, personally. As you likely know, my personal servants, Hakim and Ali, who have been serving us today, are almost like family to me as well.” (In fact, the Prince did not regard his servants as anything other than just that, and, in any event, neither Alastair nor Nigel had taken any particular notice of Hakim and Ali at all other than to repeatedly accept their proffered excellent canapés and cognac and secretly size them up as being “low-class camel jockey servants” not worth a second look). The Prince (fully aware of their secret disdain for both his servants and himself) went on: “So, please indulge me first by having your athletically-inclined Nigel here demonstrate his athletic prowess so that Hakim and Ali can learn from him and aspire to achieve his level of athletic superiority.”

“Er, um, demonstrate his prowess, Your Excellency?? Er, in what way?” inquired Alastair, his expression indicating he was more than a bit “at sea” as to what the Prince had in mind.

“Well, first of all, if Nigel would be good enough to remove his shirt and Eton-tie so that Hakim and Ali can inspect his quite evident musculature up close and receive tips on how they might achieve such a result.” replied the Prince, to Nigel’s horror.


“Nonsense, Nigel!!! hissed Alastair, “You know how important-how vital!- this oil venture is to our family’s continued prosperity!!! How dare you defy His Excellency’s simple request? Then in a more obsequious tone to the Prince, “I must apologize for Nigel’s impudence, Your Excellency! He will, of course, comply with your request!” Conservative MP Alastair Drummond-Stewart, abjectly fearing his goddamned nephew was about to screw up the entire deal, a patina of sweat now breaking out on the aristocrat’s forehead that threatened to drip down his face at the very idea that “the deal” might not go through after all.

“Well, Nigel? We are waiting…” warned the Prince.

Not-so-secretly fuming, Nigel had no choice (for about the first time in his privileged life) but to comply, blushing with fury as he duly stood and unknotted his old-school-tie and slowly unbuttoned his starched white dress shirt before removing it altogether, revealing his alabaster white musculature with its sprinkling of light-gingerish chest hair that fanned out over his upper torso, the same light fur that adorned his muscular forearms, his actions further briefly flashing more such body hair that sprouted under his manly armpits. If Nigel only knew it, he bore a strong resemblance to ginger gay porn actor Connor Maguire.

“Splendid! Splendid!” remarked the Prince as Nigel blushed in his half-naked state, furious that his muscular, ginger-hair-flecked torso was being openly and avidly ogled by the lowly but tuxedo-clad Hakim and Ali, whom he detected seemed to have an unhealthy and distinctly peculiar interest in his hunky body. “Now, Hakim, Ali, let us go over to inspect the esteemed young Drummond-Stewart’s musculature!” continued the Prince, to Nigel’s horror.

Nigel thus found himself being subjected to Hakim and Ali being allowed to feel Nigel’s bulging biceps as Nigel was obliged to flex his biceps for them (Hakim annoyingly seeming to sniff in the vicinity of the young aristocrat’s inadvertently proffered ginger-haired armpits as he did so) and to even trail their lithe fingers over the light fur on the snobby young aristocrat’s naked chest to examine its equally impressive musculature, the lowly servants having the audacity to deliberately lightly brush their lithe, teasing fingers over each of Nigel’s ginger-hair haloed sensitive pink nipples causing Nigel to not be able to suppress an unmanly gasp as his pink man-nips hardened into eraser-head points causing Nigel’s manhood to secretly and embarrassingly twitch slightly in his impeccably-tailored suit pants in response to the nip play, as the Prince himself stood nearby as well.

“Splendid! Splendid!” again remarked the Prince. “Now you must demonstrate the musculature on those thighs and calves, young Nigel. Your trousers please…” intoned the Prince, laughing to himself.

“But Uncle Alastair!!! This has gone TOO FAR!! I will do NO such thing!” fumed Nigel, outraged.

“Nigel! You know how important-how absolutely vital!!- this oil venture is to our family’s continued prosperity! Kindly comply with His Excellency’s request this instant!!” again fumed an anxious Alastair, now mopping his sweaty brow with a monogrammed Irish linen handkerchief, as he continued to fear the Prince might not sign the papers if Nigel failed to follow the Prince’s requests to the letter.

Again left with no alternative, Nigel, fuming, was obliged to remove his highly-polished (by his servants) Edward Green oxfords (1,500 pounds a pair) and dress socks whereupon he undid his designer belt and unzipped and blushingly lowered his impeccably-tailored Savile Row bespoke trousers leaving him clad only in his conservative Jermyn Street-purchased Hawes & Curtis boxer shorts.

“Now, Hakim, Ali, let us again go over to inspect the esteemed young Drummond-Stewart’s musculature!” continued the Prince, to Nigel’s further horror.

Soon the bare-footed aristocrat (British men of a certain class simply do not go about barefoot!) found himself again being “felt up” by the overly enthusiastic team of Hakim and Ali who eagerly kneeled and rather-too-enthusiastically ran their lithe fingers over the front and back of Nigel’s tree-trunk thighs, over their wiry ginger body hairs and down his muscular calves to his bare feet as they commented on his musculature, the Prince ordering Nigel to regale his servants about Nigel’s gym workout routines so that they, too, could acquire such results, as the duo continued to disconcertingly run their lithe fingers over his hairy legs. Hakim even naughtily managed to insert some of his fingers under the “hem” of Nigel’s aristocratic boxer shorts coming perilously close to Nigel’s, as yet, hidden and dangling “crown jewels.” Using a more-or-less “Braille” technique since he was unable to actually see what he was doing, Hakim even managed to grab hold of one of the longer ginger pubic hairs that sprouted on the young aristocrat’s unshaven balls from under his conservative shorts, eliciting a startled and angry yelp from Nigel who detected a momentarily disconcerting feeling (not quite sure what) under the cover of his thin cotton boxer shorts as he was nonetheless required to continue his droning description of his workout routine that no one was listening to anyway. Hakim then surreptitiously shared the purloined long ginger “pubie” for Ali’s amused inspection as they knelt down below while Nigel babbled on about how he managed to keep himself in such tip-top shape.

The Prince then confided in Alastair that “You know, Alastair, it just occurred to me that Hakim here was schooled in the art of Greco-Roman wrestling back in our Homeland. Since Nigel is now appropriately, er ‘attired,’ perhaps Nigel would be good enough to show Hakim a few “moves” he no doubt learned at Eton? And I am sure Hakim will oblige by removing his tuxedo as well?”


“Er, well, Your Excellency, it DOES seem that dear Nigel could be of no assistance in that regard. So, now back to signing those papers, eh??” replied Conservative MP Alastair Drummond-Stewart, rather too hopefully, anxious to get on with things. Those papers had to be signed, simply HAD to be!!

“No, I must insist, Alastair. It is a perfect teachable moment, most likely for both Nigel and Hakim. And, Hakim, I believe you indicated that even in our conservative Homeland, since the matches were not in mixed company, as this ‘match’ will also be, that they were conducted just as the Ancient Greeks and Romans did, is that not correct?”

As Nigel and Alastair’s eyes both bugged out, Hakim readily replied (as he had secretly been ordered to do by the Prince himself) “Yes, Your Excellency! Since there were no members of the opposite sex present whose Muslim sensibilities would clearly be offended, our instructors had all of us male participants (including the instructors!) strictly exercise completely free of any clothing at all, which they taught us was all part of the Greco-Roman tradition!”


Alastair however was conflicted. The Drummond-Stewarts (and he personally!) totally needed this oil scheme money to survive. If that meant his “bloody nephew” had to literally “drop trou” and wrestle this young camel jockey both naked as the day they were born, well then so be it! It HAD to be, or else!


Defeated, (how would he afford Oxford without his allowance!!?) Nigel had no choice but to sheepishly and blushingly drop his conservative Jermyn Street-purchased Hawes & Curtis boxer shorts to the floor, revealing his flaccid penis and pendulous balls under an abundant ginger pubic bush, his bare white alabaster-firm bubble butt also divided by a coating of more ginger fur, his bare white alabaster ass also sprinkled with a distinctly discernible smattering of more tiny ginger body hairs, all embarrassing highlighted by the strong rays of sunshine that poured through the large window of the elegant sitting room on this unusually sunny London afternoon, making Nigel feel even more naked and humiliated at the total exposure of his most intimate areas in a brightly sunlit room of impeccably fully-clothed men, all but one of whom (his posh Uncle Alastair) he fully considered to be his complete and total social inferiors.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Nigel, Uncle Alastair could not prevent himself from sharing an unseen-by-Nigel amused smirk by Alastair with the Prince at his nephew’s embarrassing exposure, as Nigel continued to stand there completely naked in front of them, the bright sunlight streaming in and highlighting every square inch of his nephew’s nudity down to the tiniest of body hairs in the most intimate places that are simply never meant to be seen in public! Too ghastly to imagine how he must feel! Imagine standing there naked like that in front of these “damned lowly camel jockeys”! Well “better Nigel than himself” mused Alastair as he liberally sipped more of the Prince’s excellent Cognac, thankful to be comfortably and impeccably quite fully-clad in his Savile Row bespoke suit and tie, his mind focused on getting those damned papers signed no matter at what expense to his college-bound nephew.

Meanwhile, Hakim quickly and eagerly hustled out of his tuxedo and underwear, whereupon the naked Hakim suddenly grabbed the equally naked Nigel by his bare shoulders and threw him onto the exquisite Persian rug that adorned the sitting room where the festivities were taking place, as the two began to wrestle, Hakim careful to make as much contact between their hunky young bodies as possible as the two squirmed on the rug. As ordered by the Prince, Hakim soon had managed to grab and manipulate Nigel’s genitals as well as his own in the guise of being part of the “wrestling” until both had developed embarrassing hard-ons, Alastair horrified by the homoerotic contact and their responses the likes of which he himself had not seen since his own days at Eton.

The entire spectacle reminded Alastair of the tradition of there being “bum-boys” at Eton, as the Eton upperclassmen referred to those unfortunates singled out at boarding school to be disciplined by and to service their elder students at their upperclassmen’s whim. Alastair’s reveries brought him back to fondly recall those days and how much pleasure he had derived from sadistically “lording it over” those unfortunates, caning, flogging, tickling and forcing the many “bum boys” at his disposal to service him sexually. It also reminded Alastair at how he and Nigel had secretly confided in the other that they, too, had had the privilege of being able to lord it over “bum boys” at Eton, using their own physical superiority to make sure that they were always the ones in control (and not the other way round). Neither perceived this as being in the least bit “gay” since it was the power and control they derived pleasure from, not the male/male contact per se (or so they told themselves).

Nevertheless, horrified at the two teenagers’ clear arousal (and at Nigel’s in particular!) Alastair ordered “Enough of this, Your Excellency. With respect, as you can see, your servant appears to be deliberately arousing my nephew against his will! Now let’s get back to business, eh?”



To Alastair and Nigel’s horror, the Prince first gestured and spoke hurried words in their native language to order Hakim to again don his tuxedo whereupon Hakim and Ali were ordered to use some of the equipment items in the “bag of tricks” the Prince had had an anonymous third party purchase for him at a local high-end sex shop in Soho which contained various restraints and blindfolds. The aristocratic duo had not been able to follow the recent exchange in the “camel jockeys’” native language so they were shocked when Hakim and Ali suddenly first stealthily blindfold the unsuspecting Alastair and Nigel’s eyes before using leather cuff restraints to bind their wrists behind their backs before they could adequately react, each being a bit dazed as a result of their liberal imbibement of the Prince’s excellent Cognac.

Hakim and Ali then eagerly literally ripped off Conservative MP Alastair Drummond-Stewart’s impeccably tailored bespoke Savile Row suit to his horror, as he howled in outrage, only to tear off his own conservative Hawes & Curtis boxer shorts until he, too, was now totally naked and on his knees with his wrists bound behind his back, the naked Nigel (who, thanks to his recent naked romp with Hakim, still sported a throbbing hard-on under his ginger bush!) in an identical position.

Then, with the threat of no oil deal combined with the tuxedoed servant duo’s prodding and spanking of the aristocratic duo’s upturned bare asses with leather paddles from the “bag of tricks,” the blindfolded Alastair and Nigel were then forced to approach the Prince’s now open crotch and suck his cock and balls one by one and at the same time, all being filmed on secret cameras as had all video and audio of the entire incriminating proceedings!

The tuxedoed Hakim and Ali, as previously instructed by the Prince (who had engineered and planned the entire scene after overhearing the pompous senior Drummond-Stewart dismiss the Prince and his Homeland as “a bunch of low-class camel jockeys” to a hooting horde of fellow “Hooray Henrys” at a posh event) grabbed the duo of Drummond-Stewarts by the ginger hair of their handsome, privileged heads in order to force them full down onto the Arab Prince’s pant opened crotch to force the horrified, blindfolded duo to perform their unaccustomed task of sucking the Prince’s cock and balls as the Prince thrust his hips to force more of his manhood into their protesting mouths.

“YEAH, TAKE IT, YOU FUCKING STUCK-UP TOFFS! CHOKE ON MY ‘CAMEL JOCKEY’ COCK ,YEAHHH!” crowed the Prince as the duo gurgled comically as they tried to avoid choking on the Prince’s massive boner.

After several minutes of this, the Prince could not hold back any longer and let loose with a huge load all over both of the posh duo’s faces, feeding the copious cum to the horrified Drummond-Stewarts.

After zipping up his own Savile Row bespoke suit pants the Prince further had the pleasure of removing each of their blindfolds as the self important Drummond-Stewarts remained otherwise bound and naked, and informed them both that there never would have been any private “oil deal” with them despite their humiliating efforts to supposedly “show their loyalty and devotion” to the Prince. As this horrifying truth sank in, the Prince further played back excerpts of the duo’s damning admissions as to the illegal scheme caught on audio and video (information that could land both in prison for life for treason) as well as the evidence of their having engaged in nude wrestling (as to Nigel) and in a kinky form of homosexual activity (as to them both) (with the Prince’s face carefully edited out), the Prince further informing them that he would gladly provide the evidence to the British authorities if the Drummond-Stewarts failed to comply with any of the Prince’s future demands!

With that, he gave the “go ahead” to Hakim and Ali to strip out of their tuxedos and “have their way” with the Drummond-Stewarts, casually informing them as he left the room that the servant duo “are a pair of poofs in case you hadn’t already guessed” who would now “make a meal” of them both!

As the Drummond-Stewarts loudly brayed their protest of the “blasted impertinence of it all!” and abjectly begged the Prince to spare them any such fate, the Prince’s response was to cackle like a banshee as he simply left the room to let his servant duo “play” with the aristocratic Drummond-Stewarts (and force them to “play” with the servant duo as well), the Prince further knowing the taped evidence of the racist homophobes’ gay sex would only add to the mountain of blackmail evidence to use against them!

After stripping themselves naked as well, the servant duo, already sporting raging hard-ons of their own that sprang out from their lushly forested dark pubic bushes to the Drummond-Stewarts’ further horror, Hakim and Ali re-cuffed the Drummond-Stewarts with their bound wrists now over their heads as they lay on their backs on the elegant Persian rug, with each of the aristocratic duo’s ginger-haired armpits on full view. The servant duo then used pairs of ankle cuffs connected by a chain that stretched between each of their bare, out-stretched feet so as to avoid the now squirming duo’s attempts to kick them as the aristocratic Drummond-Stewarts each continued to loudly bray their outrage at all of this.

The servant duo then literally jumped their own naked, hairy bodies against those of the braying Drummond-Stewarts, whereupon they proceeded to expertly tongue-bathe their naked bodies, their educated tasters plunging into each of their ginger-haired armpits, over their collarbones and up over their faces, lips and into their ears as they shook their heads mightily in protest, before proceeding further down their muscular, gym-toned bodies (the elder Drummond-Stewart being in tip top physical shape as well, his skin also recently bronzed from his Ibiza trip in contrast to Nigel’s alabaster white form) only to lick, suck, and tweak each of their sensitive nips until they stood up like eraser points on each of their lightly ginger-furred chests, before finally straying into each of their navels, before going down on each of their now rock-hard boners, sucking their balls and rimming their ginger-hair-haloed virgin rosebuds as the Drummond-Stewarts could not refrain from moaning and sighing as a result of their expert tongue-baths of their most intimate areas.

The servant duo delighted in deliberately edging the aristocratic Drummond-Stewarts, making them beg for a sexual release that was not quick in “cumming,” only to back off and laugh at their unaccustomed frustration in not having their orders and desires fulfilled instantly and to the letter.

Worse, the servant duo also then literally each sat their own naked, hairy asscracks onto the Drummond-Stewarts’ outraged, handsome faces and pulled out clumps of their hair until they each were forced to stick out their over-privileged pink tongues and then rim the “camel jockeys’” assholes and suck their cocks and balls, all caught on blackmail tape.

For the piece de resistance, the servant duo then forced the Drummond Stewarts’ ankle-spreader-bound ginger-haired legs into the air whereupon the servant duo took turns fucking each of the Drummond Stewarts while reaching down to tickle their exposed armpits and sides as they howled and giggled and squirmed while they were each fucked up their tight, butch asses before withdrawing and squirting their “camel jockey” cum into the Drummond-Stewarts’ horrified faces and making them lick it all up.

The servant duo then delighted in again edging the Drummond Stewarts repeatedly before finally jerking them to orgasm after they were forced to abjectly beg for it, the Drummond-Stewarts spraying their pent-up aristocratic loads all over their lightly-ginger-furred chests and into their faces and hair, only for each to be hand-fed a mixture of both of their cum scooped up from their heaving chests.

As instructed, the servant duo scooped up the rest of the Drummond Stewarts’ ruined and/or purloined clothes for souvenirs and then telephoned the elder Drummond-Stewart’s residence to inform their staff that “the Drummond-Stewarts each encountered a wardrobe mishap and require that a change of clothes be delivered to the residence of the Crown Prince Sheikh Ahmed bin Sultani.”

While an elegant change of clothes was later received, the Drummond-Stewarts were obliged to get into them without showering, each only too well aware that they reeked of semen, the duo further humiliated by the fact their uniformed chauffeur twitched his nose suspiciously as he drove them to the elder Drummond-Stewart’s stately, if over-mortgaged, residence.

Worst of all, both of the Drummond-Stewarts lived in mortal fear of Crown Prince Sheikh Ahmed bin Sultani’s blackmail material being made public, the elder Drummond-Stewart already having been blackmailed into arranging to have his posh clique invite the Crown Prince Sheikh Ahmed bin Sultani to scores of posh and/or British royalty-connected parties from which he likely would otherwise have been excluded. Even more damning, the Crown Prince Sheikh Ahmed bin Sultani further intended to soon use the blackmail material in order to force both Alastair and Nigel, (either separately or together!) to offer their bodies to satisfy the homoerotic lust of prominent gay men, government officials, celebrities, etc. from Britain and around the world on a regular basis, just to mess with them all the more. They would be/are ruined!!!! thought the Prince as he cackled with glee at his cleverness.

But little did Crown Prince Sheikh Ahmed bin Sultani know that “what goes around can come/cum around” as well, as he was soon to learn….


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