A Game Of Switch And Bait

Miracle Max shoved Westley’s coins back across the scored wooden table and spoke loud enough to be heard above the din of the crowd in the dingy little tavern. “Look sonny, I’m not your personal miracle worker here. I came for some ale, an MLT ... this place is known for its mutton... and some peace of mind. You buzzing around me means no peace... now shoo off.”


Coins clinked as Westley dropped a few more on top of the small pile in front of him. “I’m not asking you for a miracle.”


“Bringing you back to life, now that was a miracle. Getting you inside Cliff Hold is like asking for ten miracles and liable to get me on the bad side of Humperdink. Oh wait, I already am... so it can get me killed.”


“You only have to pretend to produce a miracle. I have a plan.”


“Pretend?” Max eyed the money then gave Westley a crafty look. “That’s peanut shells, I never work for less than twice that.”


“Done.” Westly added four more coins onto the table and shoved them toward the miracle worker. “You’ll need to be at the Plump Sausage Tavern before sunset tomorrow, I’ve made all the arrangements. Humperdink will be there.”


“Wait, wait, wait... your brain must still be partly dead, that place is–“


“Yes, a house of ill-repute.”


“Well isn’t that like calling a burning forest a little flame! It’s for men!”


“Yes, most houses of ill-repute are for men.”

“But no... I mean those with ill-reputations... the ‘for sale’ items... they’re men too.”


“Yes, that’s admittedly a bit different. Though technically, they’re only ‘for rent.’”


“Prince Humperdink... you’re sure?” The thought had never crossed Max’s mind before, but in a way, it made sense. He’d never seen the Prince’s eyes light up at the sight of a woman and he was one of the few royalty who didn’t have a reputation for being a randy womanizer.


Westley nodded. “I’m quite sure.”


“Oy vey...” He shook his head. “And it won’t bother you to go there?”


A slight smile finally crossed Westley’s features. “Remember, I was a sailor.”

* * *


Prince Humperdink entered the unassuming thatched tavern suitably called the Plump Sausage. As always, it was tightly packed with men and boys.


Rich men dotted the bar and lined the long tables, arms around the boys they’d rented for the night. Some wore partial masks, others didn’t. It was an unwritten law amongst them that what happened at the Plump Sausage stayed at the Plump Sausage. Though Humperdink wore a scarf tied over his eyes with holes to allow him to see out, he knew it wasn’t the greatest of disguises and it often came off after he’d been well plied with enough wine.


This place was a refuge. He could be himself and no one cared, or whispered about his duties. Duties. The one that made him blanch was his husbandly duties to his wife who still pined after that pirate who should have died in the pit of despair. All he needed to do was beget an heir from her, then he’d never have the distasteful task of laying with her out of a sense of duty to his throne again. A dark flush stained his face. Thus far he hadn’t successfully lain with her once as his body refused to cooperate. How could it when she’d whisper about her true love and compare him to her damned Westley? The humiliation was hard to bear.


He took a heavy wine goblet from a tray that was being circulated and drank deeply. All he had to do was get her pregnant. Once she bore him an heir, he could throw her off the cliffs. His subjects already believed her to be depressed and nearly gone mad. It wouldn’t take a lot of convincing to have them believe she ended her own life.


To better times, he took another swallow and tapped a long haired man in a poet’s shirt on the shoulder. When the man bowed, he knew that he’d been recognized. No matter, it only got him better service... and this one... by the look of his cranberry lips... would service him just fine.


Noises from the other side of the tavern drew his attention. A crowd had gathered and occasionally, gasps would fill the air. Then an annoyingly nasal voice would speak over the sounds. A very familiar voice... though he couldn’t put his finger on it.


“What is going on over there?” he asked the boy, ”Adam, am I right?”


The long haired youth flushed with pleasure at having been noticed by the Prince. “Aye. That’s a washed out has-been wizard who’s still got a few surprising tricks up his sleeve.”


“Tricks? Miracle Max... that’s who it is.” Humperdink’s jaw clenched. Putting his hand behind his companion’s back, he walked over to see what miracles that crackpot was offering tonight.


A fleshy man with quivering jowls shoved his companion forward. “I’d like him to be tall and beautiful,” he said, tossing money into a tin cup.


“That’s it? Just beautiful? You don’t want him to look like someone?”


The man shook his head no. “Wait! Buford, I want him to look like Buford.”


“I’m sorry... who in tarnations is Buford, I can’t turn him into someone I don’t know. Now, do you have any other requests? Time is money.”


“Make him look like the pirate who stormed the castle,” the man whispered, ringing his hands with anticipation. “That lovely hair...”


“And a nice ass to boot.” That and other ribald commentaries erupted as the slender young man stepped into a curtained area. Max’s hand wildly gyrated as he uttered magical phrases like no one had ever heard. Including himself.


Humperdink gripped a nearby railing. The pirate who stormed the castle. He realized the request had been for a Westley shaped companion.


Minutes later, Westley walked out of the curtained area and waltzed upstairs in the arms of the ecstatic client who’d dropped more than one piece of gold into the wizard’s hand..


Suddenly, everyone wanted the pirate. Gleefully accepting payment, one by one, Max turned various companions into Westley. Humperdink’s gaze never wavered from the trickery that was taking place.


Coming out from behind the curtain for the tenth time now, Westley felt the weight of Humperdink’s hot gaze. Unfortunately it was hot with jealousy and rage, not desire. This plan had to work. He couldn’t accept another failure.


“Oh, you turned out well. Let me see the teeth.”


Westley just barely prevented himself from biting the fingers that prodded his mouth. Each trip up the stairs to the bedchambers had been an interesting exercise in trying to avoid the groping. He’d arranged for actors agree to ask for their companions to be changed into the pirate, but he hadn’t dreamed the regular patrons would ask for him too. Right now, there were about five companions tied up in the stables, and a greater number of customers he’d knocked out and tied in a pile in the corner of a room upstairs.


As he walked toward Humperdink, Westley held the prince’s gaze, but spoke to the man who’d rented him out for the night. “You hate this pirate and you will now have your way with him, make him do as you bid. Brilliant plan, I couldn’t have thought of a better one.”


“What...what are you talking about? Come on, give us a kiss,” the short man who’d had his fingers in his mouth said. The man might not have gotten it, but the idea sank into Humperdink’s head. Or so Westley hoped as he put his arms around the man and accepted the noisy kiss, never taking his gaze off the Prince. Hopefully that had done something for the Prince, he thought as he climbed up the stairs and prepared to knock unconscious yet another slobbering idiot.


Revenge that had been denied him, was close. Humperdink shoved the long haired boy, Adam, toward Max. “I want him changed–“


“Let me guess, you want Count Rugen. You’ll have to tell us if six fingers are better than five...” Max fanned his fingers high in the air.


“No.” The single word was said with the authority of his station. “I also want the pirate.”


“Which pirate? There are so many.”


“The one everyone else appears to be... having tonight.”


“Oh you mean the one who stormed the castle.”


“Yes.”


“And made fools of the entire brigade guarding it.”


“Yes... yes...him.”


“The one who humiliated the Prince by stealing his bride...”


“Yes, now get on with it,” Humperdink growled.


Max raised his hands. “Alright, alright...oy vey, what is the rush.... the spell lasts for twenty four hours no matter when we start.” He pulled the curtains open for Adam. “Step inside and relax.”


* * *


Pulling the rough woolen cloak tightly around his body as he waited behind the prince for the prince’s coach, Westley tried to keep from laughing. They’d gone upstairs together and just as Humperdink sat down and demanded to be kissed, a nerve wracking sound, a cross between a loud saw, a wood pecker, and a tom cat in heat, reverberated incessantly around them. Quite the mood killer it was, thanks to his friends who’d seen to it. It seemed the prince had issues with the mating call of the made-up critter that had ‘taken up residence’ in the thatched roof of the Plump Sausage. It had been just the thing that pushed the Prince to take ‘Adam’ to Cliff Hold. Perfect.


When the horse drawn carriage arrived, Westley followed the prince inside and sat across from him. Humperdink apparently liked his comfort, that much was obvious. The seats were of red velvet and matched the curtains, soft pillows were thrown here and there, and a tray was fixed to the wall, with a pitcher of what he assumed was wine, and goblets sitting on it.


With a jolt, the carriage took off. Feeling Humperdink’s gaze on him, Westley met it. His pulse quickened. Did the prince see through this trickery? The people at the Plump Sausage were quite naive, but was Humperdink? After all, the man was devious himself, having hatched the fake kidnaping of Buttercup, and then stealing her back after she’d made her choice of leaving him for Westley.


They stared at each other in silence. The gentle swaying almost lulled Westley until they hit a rocky point in the road and the carriage rocked to one side. Their knees collided. When he would have moved away, Westley felt Humperdink’s hands on his thighs. This time, the heat in the Prince’s eyes had nothing to do with rage.


Wondering just what the prince had been imagining, Westley licked his lips and felt the prince’s fingers suddenly bite into his legs. Damn, he’d hoped to stave this off until...


“Westley–“


“Adam...” Westley corrected.


“Play along, you fool,” Humperdink glowered at him. “Westley, take your cloak off.”


“Alright.”


“Alright what?”


“Alright your highness.” Westley shrugged the cloak off, squirming slightly when the prince still didn’t let go of his legs. The man was feeling him out, probably enjoying the movements of the muscles under his hand.


“Shirt. Open it.” Humperdink demanded, his gaze clinging to every move of Westley’s long fingers as they unbuttoned the flowing white shirt and revealed slightly tanned skin a little at a time. “Faster,” he growled when the hand slowed at about mid chest.


“Yes your highness.” Westley undid the last button, and the silky material parted. His stomach clenched as the cool air slid over his skin. It was quickly replaced by Humperdink’s warm hand brushing over him.


“You’ll do everything I say Westley. You are my servant. I am your Lord. This is your punishment for going against me.” Humperdink crowed as if this was reality and he had power over the bane of his existence. “You want me, don’t you?” Eyes narrowing slightly at the lack of enthusiasm, he cupped Westley, mollified only when the companion hardened under his touch.


“Yes and.... yes.” Westley sighed a breath of relief. He’d wondered if is his distaste for Humperdink might work against him. But a touch was a touch, and as far as reactions went, the prince had nothing to complain about.


“Yes what?” Humperdink snapped. As if it wasn’t enough that the real Westley was a rebellious ass, this one wasn’t doing a great job of being subservient.


Westley groaned. “Yes, your majest.... my lord... ruler of all beings... master of the universe... the highest power on the planet...lord and master of....”


No, it couldn’t be sarcasm, the prince decided. Whatever it was, he was enjoying it, because his own pants were bulging. Throbbing and aching under the tight confines of his clothes, he straddled Westley’s thighs and stood on his knees, gripping Westley’s shoulders for support. “Free me.”


Westley’s cheek and mouth ghosted over the bulge in front of his face. “What? Your majesty?”


White-hot heat spiraled through him. Humperdink jerked forward, rubbing against Westley’s face for a bit of relief. “Open my pants, you fool.”


Very slowly, and taking incredible care not to put the slightest pressure on the prince’s member, Westley undid the pants. Impressive... he hadn’t expected the prince to be so large. He just hoped Buttercup....


“Touch me!” The prince impatiently jerked forward again. “Now.”


“Yes your majesty.” Westley ran his hands up and down the prince’s thighs, staring up at him, only a hint of rebellion in his eyes.


Humperdink went rock hard. His buttocks clenched as he imagined being taken into Westley’s mouth. But what was this? A battle? Surely the man knew what he wanted. Why was he making him ask for it? “Not there,” he said through clenched teeth.


“Yes, your majesty.” Westley ran his hands across the prince’s stomach, lowering his head as the prince jerked forward again. He kissed his thigh, instead of where the man was almost crying to be touched.


Not at all used to being forced to wait on what he wanted, Humperdink gripped Westley’s head and guided him. “Lick....” The lightest sensations made him buck forward and growl, “harder!”


“Yes your–“


“Don’t talk. I said harder.... now suck...” Eyes closed, Humperdink’s hands searched for some support. He found the handles at the top of the windows of the carriage, pulled himself up higher and rode his enemy’s mouth with a vengeance. Pleasure and pain wracked his body. He was mastering his enemy. He was taking his enemy, having him, branding his mouth as he would brand the rest of him. Higher and higher he went, moving with increased violence. “I win.... I win.... I.... win....” he moaned his release finally, then slumped back in his own seat.

* * *


A smug smile was fixed firmly to Humperdink’s face as they entered the impregnable fort. Westley estimated the number of guards they walked through to get inside. There was no way any attack would have worked. This really was the only way in. He was sure the Prince would take him back to his quarters. Once there, he could tie him up, find out where Buttercup was, get her, hold the Prince at sword’s point and force him to have the gates opened...


His planning was cut short as two guards joined them, flanking them as they headed deeper into the fort. Why did the Prince need a guard inside the fort ...


“New plan.” The Prince said, when they stopped in front of a door. “Guards!”


Right, he’d been caught out. He could take the first guard’s sword, then swing around and... and he wasn’t being arrested. Westley lifted a brow. “What plan?”


The guards left them and marched to either end of the long hallway, turning their backs. “What plan?” he repeated, perplexed.


“You will have sex with my wife–“


“What?!?” Westley’s mouth hung wide open.


Humperdink opened the small window on the door. “Go on, take a look. That’s princess Buttercup. She’s pining for... “ he stabbed his finger into Westley’s chest. “Ironic, that both of us should want him instead of each other, and that the answer was right under my nose. After this, I’m going to restore Miracle Max to his title as castle wizard...”


“Ah...” Peering inside, Westley saw Buttercup asleep on a large bed. She was hugging a pillow.


“I need an heir. You will go in there, pretend you are her precious Westley and get her pregnant. Go on... don’t fail me,” he opened the door and whispered, “and don’t spend yourself entirely on her, I’ll have need of you again...”


Westley glanced over his shoulder at the now closed door. A flash of light told him the small window was still open. No doubt the prince wanted to make sure he obeyed these new orders of his.


Dropping his cloak, his shirt, and then his pants onto the ground, Westley got on the bed. “Buttercup?” He shook her shoulder gently.


“Mmm, who is it?” She knew that touch too well.


“Your true love.”


“Oh good, its not that vile Prince who gets on top of me and huffs and puffs, gets sweatier than a pig ... and accomplishes nothing,” she opened her eyes and smiled.


“Is that what he does?” Anger coursed through Westley at the thought of the Prince handling Buttercup, but he did at least have the satisfaction of knowing the Prince had been unsuccessful. “Do you mean he doesn’t kiss you like this?” Revenge would be sweet. He gave her a long, lingering kiss, and felt her arms wind around his shoulders.


“What are you doing here... how did you get in... are we getting out?” she asked, slowly coming out of her deep slumber.


“Soon, not for a while,” Westley said. “We have some time to kill.” Slowly, he pulled the covers down her body, kissing her, then trailing his mouth down her throat and chest, “and I know just how.”


“How?” she asked playfully, stretching out.


“Obviously not in the ways the wretched Prince kills time.”


“Mmm... I think he must spend all of his time with himself, he had no idea what to do with me,” she said, laughing as she stroked his back.


Standing outside the door and watching them, Humperdink stiffened. They dared make fun of him. Damnations, did every incarnation of Westley have to find ways in which to do that? If she weren’t responding, he would have pulled the fellow out and taught him what was what. But perhaps this was how Adam figured he could get Buttercup to trust him and loosen up.


Humperdink’s face flushed dark as he watched her do just that. That Adam was too skilled for his own good. In exactly the same way as he’d made him almost beg for release in the carriage, he was putting his mouth to use and drawing groans and pleas from Buttercup. Fool. He hadn’t told him to pleasure her, he wanted him to pump her with his seed and get out. There were so many more games he’d wanted to play with Westley himself.


“He doesn’t do this either?” Westley asked, lifting his head.


“No.”


“Do you want me to...”


“Yes, oh yes, yes, yes...”


“As you wish...”


Humperdink gripped the door handle. When would it be over? All that foreplay... hadn’t he told the fellow not to spend himself too much? The writhing bodies, the labored breaths. He wanted the boy in his own bed dammit. He wanted him in a bad way, bucking and crying out... In sheer frustration, he pressed his face against the little window.


How much time had passed? Perhaps hours? Finally the two figures had stopped making love in every way imaginable. She seemed to have fallen asleep, and ‘Westley’ was looking toward the door.


The Prince opened it slightly. “Come on,” he whispered.


Westley gave a languid smile and crooked a finger. “You come.”


An angry flush darkened the Prince’s face. “You’re done here, come.”


Westley lifted the bed cover and gave the Prince an eyeful of what was waiting for him. “Three is triple the pleasure, and who is to say then that any child of hers is not yours.”


Humperdink’s gaze was transfixed on what awaited him in that bed. “Yes... oh yes...” he nodded, and undressed faster than he ever had in his life. It was quite unfortunate that the minute he entered the bed, he found his mouth stuffed with strips of bed cloth, and his hands bound to the frame.


Impotent with rage. Always impotent where she came into the equation, Humperdink struggled furiously, futilely, as she put on the clothes that Westley had been in, and Westley.... her Westley ... dared put on his own Princely attire.


“Ah... understanding dawns finally.” Westley pulled the royal cape into place, and held a smiling Buttercup at his side. “You look uncomfortable... doesn’t he look uncomfortable?”


Buttercup followed his gaze to Humperdink’s heavy arousal. “Funny... he never bulged like that for me.”


“Didn’t he? Well maybe you don’t know the game of ‘master and servant,’ I’ll explain it to you...” The door slammed shut behind the couple.


No one dared stop the Prince and his companion. No eyebrows were raised when he asked for his carriage and headed back to the Plum Sausage. No one was a bit surprised when Westley and Buttercup left the kingdom to find their own happily ever after...


As for what happened to the real Prince... that is a story for another time.


THE END