A while back I wrote a story called Knight of Dawn. Many suggestions were given to me. I immediately sent the story to the Gods of Lit via the submit new story option, indicating that my original story was Edited. That was close to 3 weeks ago (I think). The story languished for a while in pending status and then disappeared -- no further comment was made regarding it. I expected the original to be updated but this never happened. I attempted to contact the same Gods of Lit to no avail. I am not irritated or anything, just frustrated and concerned. This is not an appropriate way to handle things. I will probably not be using this site any more. I thank all those of you who have made this site an interesting place. I wish the best for all of you.
While much of my work on this site is experimental in nature, I am still serious about it. I want it to be handled with integrity and sincerity. I need to have a story removed when I desire it, changed as needed, etc. I do not see this happening in an organized way. I realize that the Gods are overworked. Perhaps fewer contributors should be involved.
For those who did give me suggestions on my previous version, I am pasting my changes to this thread. I wish this changes could have been reflected int he actual submitted story. Thanks again for your help and suggestions. I will respond to any further thoughts as appropriate.
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Fighting was never the most difficult part of my life. Sure it had danger - the possibility of painful death, the tension just before combat. Yet I was an excellent swordsman and danger was the spice and joy of my life.
It was all the other stuff that bothered me. Why should the greatest swordfighter in the archipelago be required to deal with so much foolishness? The tedium of waiting for the next fight, the struggle with heavy armor, cleaning it, replacing broken parts, lugging it from tournament to tournament, all of it was sometimes more than I could possibly handle.
But today was different. Today was perfect.
My legs stretched long in front of me, vibrating against the grease stained oak floor. A couple of women danced on an elevated platform, their pale blue dresses splattered with dark stains, scarves swirling in time to the music.
A smallish bald fellow was embracing a fiddle, the bow flashing against the strings in a way that reminded me of a novice fighter, one who only thought to strike, never to feint and dart away. Of course that was probably the way of musicians. I knew little of such things.
I did know that the music was grand, the wenches lovely, and my mug almost empty.
”More ale,” I cried in a voice that boomed across the tavern.
A comely lass approached. “And why should I bring more bubbly to such as you,” she said laughing.
“I just won a tournament, defeated all who came against me.”
“Aye you did,” she said. “But what about your coin? I haven’t seen a copper or silver piece all night. Out with it or you’ll never see another brew.”
I handed her a silver piece, enough for drinks all around, all night long. Satisfied, she left.
“I win and I pay for all of you? Is that it?” My voice was quiet now, some of the cheer gone from it. I glanced around at my two friends.
“Of course,” Bob said, his smile revealing a perfect set of white teeth. No one had teeth like that at his age. He must have been over thirty five. I wondered how he did it.
“You won a big enough prize,” Ken said. “Share a bit of the wealth man. It’s not time to pinch it. You’ll get your arse in a bind, constipate yourself.”
Forced to laugh at this point, I glanced at the two of them, the best friends any man could possibly have.
Bob Delaney was the older brother, Ken and I had always wanted. Almost past tournament age, he still made the circuit every year. Only now he spent most of his time helping Ken and myself train. And he always received a good percentage of the winnings.
Ken Albright was the crazy one. Slightly older than me in years, he seemed younger because of his mischievous nature. Sometimes I wondered if he would survive long enough to grow old.
“So what made you pull your horse up before that second fight?” Bob asked me. “You almost lost it that time?”
“An itch under my mail coat. Couldn’t get at it, drove me crazy.”
“Nothing like an itch to drive a fighter crazy,” Bob said. “Drove me crazy once, a year ago it was. I was on my horse, couldn’t reach behind, and it wouldn’t stop. Nothing worse than an itch in the wrong spot.”
“There is something far worse,” Ken said with a voice that had his typical monotone, a preface to some sort of levity. “Ever have to go to the toilet? What do you do, out there in the crowd, the other man bearing down, sword flashing? What do you do?”
“You go before the fight starts,” was my reply. “Prevention, man. You think ahead. You’ll never survive if you don’t think ahead.” My voice had a bit of frustration to it now.
Further talk was ended when the waitress returned with our drinks.
“Big winner,” she said to me. “Congratulations. But the Persuader wasn’t there you know. Don’t go bragging around here.”
All I could think of was to spank her. So I did. She yelped.
“Damn you,” she cried. “You want a piece of that, you’ll need more than a win under your belt.”
“I have something far better under my belt,” I said laughing. “You want me to show you?”
“You crazy man,” she said. “I have a real man at home and a young boy. I don’t work here for you. It’s for them.”
“Don’t worry about my friend here,” Ken said. “You couldn’t find that thing under his belt anyway.”
I reached out to slap him, a half-hearted attempt. He ducked easily. So I grabbed the girl, planted my lips on hers. She felt so fine, I slipped my hand over her butt. She struggled at first then pressed against me. At last I pulled away.
“You bastard. My man will hit me now, he finds out.” She pointed to Ken. “You right. I couldn’t feel a thing under his belt.” She laughed in that carefree way that wenches will, then darted to the back of the tavern.
“Speaking of lovely ladies,” Bob said. “I saw one hand you a note just after you won the tournament. She wasn’t a wench. Such a lovely dress, filmy, and soft, like an angel she looked. Probably a hand maiden to royalty. What would they want with you? Is it a special present for the tournament champion?”
I didn’t respond. He could think whatever he wanted.
Leaning back, I raised my mug to my face and drank deeply. Over the rim of the glass, I let my eyes swing around the room. Yes, tonight was indeed perfect. What better way to spend an evening than with friends, beer, and a wench or two.
That note had been like a gift from my liege lord, an alabaster bowl poured over my head. A lady, a true lady wanted to see me – in private. It could only mean one thing.
She arrived with the swish of silk garments, not like the scarlet dressed hussies who frequented the taverns, fat with tournament trade. She wore white, a long flowing gown, that kissed the steps as she descended the staircase.
"I have but little time," she said with a voice that sounded more like breathing than talking, as though she had just run across the castle when I knew it was merely a winding staircase, taken one slow step at a time, in full view of my assessment below.
"Where can we go to be alone?" I asked.
"You are so naughty - alone - without an escort. It can only be the garden. No one goes there these days."
Moments later, I understood why she chose the garden.
She lay on the soft grass, lifted an arm, a smile creeping over her lips, her legs spread apart.
I descended on her, a hand on her thigh, my lips hot against her softer ones.
"My husband has been long gone these many years," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "It has been lonely here in the castle. He may even be dead. The freedom wars never freed anyone, least of all the wives back home.."
Her words gave me pause for a moment, considering our situation. I was the tournament champion, yet of common birth, she of royal blood but without personal accomplishments, skills, or abilities. Unless the soft shadows showing beneath her filmy gown held special gifts, she was merely a prize to be taken, not a love for the cherishing. I hardly knew her. This was merely a man and a maid with their need for one another. Could anything more be accomplished here, I wondered.
My desire grew and I slid my hand along her thigh, over the smoothness of skin, under her gown, along her stomach, rib cage, to her breast. Under the filmy material, she was completely naked, the way she was born, without artifice, neither rich, nor poor, just a woman in heat.
She sighed as my hand surrounded her breast, massaging it, caressing it. My tongue parted her lips. Her tongue was a snake swirling with the growing need of me. And I responded with equal desire, our juices intermingling with the heat of our craving.
Her gown separated easily, revealing her breasts. I slid the tip of my tongue over her lips, down her chin, to her neck. With the barest of touches, my tongue trailed along the slope of her skin, down her neck, a touch, almost a tickle, the tip hardly tasting her. As I neared her breast, I opened my mouth, engulfing the softness of her mound.
She groaned.
"I never knew." Her whisper was almost without sound but in the stillness of the garden, I heard every word. "Let this last forever," she said sliding an arm against my chest, snapping a button open, then another until my shirt was open.
I pulled back, removing my shirt, staring at her lying on the grass. Her skin was alabaster, the scent of lilacs spreading upward. I opened the rest of her gown gazing down at her, her hazel eyes staring into mine. I let my glance move downward over the perfect breasts the small waist, a wisp of blond between her legs, and such legs. They were white as the rest of her, long and slender. I couldn't resist touching them, sliding my hand over the outside of them, touching her knee, her foot, then returning inside the leg, spreading them, lightly grazing her thigh, and placing a hand on the hair under her stomach.
She was far different from any of the other women I had known. I had no wife, no kept woman. I wandered from tournament to tournament, finding a taste of flesh here and there wherever my path would lead me. Most of them were tavern wenches, the kind that seldom washed, had dirt under fingernails with a bit too much flavor between the legs. As an islander, I had once sworn off women altogether. I liked the fish smell but these fillies had turned it sour, spoiled like rancid butter.
Despite my constant misgivings, the toss of long hair, the strut and swish of ample hips always had me sniffing around for more.
Samantha was different, a breath of fresh air, yet troubling in a way I did not quite understand. As I gazed down on her, I felt my penis quicken, hardening like a broom handle, quivering, wanting her more than thought itself. I would give up all fighting I thought, if I could just have this garden of delights every night.
"Your tongue," she cried. "Lick me, all of me."
I slid my tongue down her breast and along her chest. Like a worm, I wiggled the tip across her skin. She was delicious. As I caressed her with my lips, my tongue flicked between them, tasting her, exciting her, enticing her. Her taste was something I would never forget, a tinge of saltiness and something else, a fruitiness.
As I approached her belly button, I turned my body sideways, positioning my penis near her mouth, so close I could feel her hot breath on it sending a tingling sensation through me. My penis twitched with desire and rubbed against her cheek.
"Please," I said softly. "Suck me."
She placed me in her mouth. She was a novice but her inhibitions were disappearing as fast as the island tides change in the early morning hours. I felt her mouth tighten around me. I pushed forward until my penis hit the back of her throat. Her nose rested against my balls. Then she tightened her mouth and sucked me as though she had been doing it for years. I felt my stomach tighten, a stirring grew deep inside me, craving to let go. But I didn't want it to end yet. There was so much more to do.
My tongue wrapped itself around the hairs between her legs. I slid to the edge of her slit, delicately probing the inner sanctums of her private folds. They were wet and I lapped up the juices like a lapdog, tasting the sweet fragrance that seemed to call to me – fuck me, fuck me. But that would have to wait. I had a meal to finish.
I continued to swirl my tongue over the edges of her slit, inching closer to that little button of love, the nub of desire. As I lightly grazed it, she jerked upward, an act that forced my penis deeper into her throat. I was now past the back of her mouth and several inches down her throat. I wondered how she could breathe properly since with each movement, her throat and mouth clenched my penis. I couldn't believe it that I hadn't shot my load long before.
And for a moment, all I could think about was the delightful way she jerked and quivered each time my tongue touched her little button. And each time this happened I quivered as well, her grip on my penis constricting tight around me.
"Don't come," she cried sliding off of me. "I want you inside me."
My penis bounced up and down, quivering in the cool air. Spreading her legs, I rested the tip against her pussy. She pushed upward and the tip slowly entered her. After a couple of inches it stopped. I pushed downward and slowly her pussy expanded to allow me to enter her further and further.
It had been a long time since she had been with a man. She was tight, so very tight, as though it was her first time. I eased my penis back and then pushed forward again. It went further this time and further still the next. I wondered what this would mean to the two of us. I was a commoner, she a lady, royalty. Sure I was tournament champion, but what value was that against the blue blood of an aristocrat.
She cried as I ripped her apart, my penis embedded full into her, my pelvis rubbing against her button. Then slowly I drew back, my penis encased in as tight a pussy as I had ever felt before. Just as the tip almost exited her pussy, I slid back again.
"Oh," she cried. "It's like fire. Don't stop. It hurts like fire but I want it, all of it."
And I obliged. I slowed my pace down as the eruption of my desire grew closer and closer. She wasn't ready yet. I did not want to release too soon. I wanted her to find the pain and the glory, the sunshine and the rain. I wanted to rock her world, to change her forever, to remove the naïve little grin from her face. This was no love making exercise between two turtle dove adolescents. No this was a man possessing a woman.
Yet my control was almost gone. How I wanted to erupt inside her to feel her pussy convulse around me. We were almost there.
I gripped her shapely buttocks in my arms and pulled her toward me.
"Ahh," I cried as I shot my seed into her.
It was as though my seed had stimulated her beyond her resistance. She came as well, screaming my name over and over. I covered her mouth so the entire castle wouldn't hear us.
And then our passions waned. We lay back in the grass, legs entangled, chests together, a tiredness covering us like a blanket, protective and warm.
Some time later unsure of the time, I shook my head to clear it of sleep. I studied the woman beside me, my thoughts on how different we were. Her station in life was so much higher than my own. She thought herself better than I. It was something that I could not accept and with the passion gone, this stared me straight in my face. I had no desire to fight for her, carry her ribbon on my shield.
Starting late the next day, tired but pleasantly happy as well, I waved good-by to my friends, and led my horse out of town. There was a new tournament a few leagues to the east and my late start would require some fast riding if I wanted to reach the next town by nightfall.
The sun was bright, my armor while never shiny was clean. Yet the years had made their impact on it. Each surface had little dents and scrapes that no amount of hard work could remove.
Early afternoon, I reached a small glen under the shade of a towering forest filled with the yellow trees that were home to the eagles who protected our fair land from air assaults. From across the open area, a knight approached me at a gallop, his shield swaying in the afternoon light, catching a stray beam of sunlight that had fought through the leaves and branches above us.
The crest on his shield was of unknown origin, containing a single robin surrounded by green oak leaves. I had seen nothing like it in all my previous experiences. His armor was black, absorbing the sunlight like a dark cavern. This contrasted with his white horse -- light and darkness together – twins of disparity. What a sight you'd make at the tournament, I thought.
I was in the best shape of my life, armor in perfect order, a well-trained horse, even a bath late into the evening. I flexed my muscles, feeling the blood flood into my fighting arm. It held the pride of my young life, my blade, Blue Sapphire.
As my opponent loomed in front of me, I noticed the size of his horse – 15 hands, small for a horse, any horse. It carried a knight with heavy armor. Yet the horse raced easily, eager for the battle to begin. The rider was smaller than I had first surmised. The contrast to the horse had made me think of a giant knight ready to devour me. Instead, he was much smaller than I.
I wondered what kind of a battle I would have. Would this be difficult or easy? As fine a fighter as I was, I always had this moment of doubt before a contest. Was I still the best? Eventually someone would show up to beat me. Was this the time? Had my speed slackened just a little, that small bit that separated the expert from the mediocre?
As rider and horse reached me I pulled on the reins. "Desist a moment sir," I shouted.
Ten paces from me the horse and rider stopped. We stood there for several moments in silence. Then I spoke.
"I have no conflict with you." My words were loud in the stillness of the glen.
No response.
"Why risk death when there is no reason for it?"
Still no response from the mysterious rider.
I sat motionless for many minutes, studying the equally still rider before me. Neither of us moved or spoke as the other rider adjusted his sword. Pointing it toward me, he kicked his heels into the side of his horse.
Combat using a sword from horseback was a completely different activity from the normal challenge of fighting with two feet solid on the ground. Anything can happen and usually did. So many variables were involved. Yet the most important factor was the horse itself.
Generally, a large and fast horse would win such encounters. The skill of the rider was also crucial, but mainly as it applied to understanding and guiding his mount. When a thousand pound horse barreled toward someone, no skill with a sword made much difference.
Part of this was simply the speed and sheer mass of the animal. But part of the animal’s importance was due to a well understood fighting etiquette. The horse was considered a non-combatant. Anyone who ever deliberately hurt a horse would be tarred and feathered by every able bodied man in the immediate vicinity. It was an absolute rule, like fucking your sister, simply not allowed.
Of course many a man had been known to fuck his sister. I had no big problems with it personally. None of my business I figured. Yet to hurt a horse was far worse, like choking a helpless child, something simply not done.
As we raced toward each other, I raised my sword about waist high, just above the withers, a perfect spot to strike my opponent. Most knights would point their sword straight in front of them, almost like the lances used in actual tournaments. I chose a more subtle approach, sword at my side ready to slash in any direction.
Our horses were approaching each other at a dangerous speed. His horse was even faster than mine, but smaller. I should be able to unseat him. Yet at this speed anything could happen. In seconds both of us could easily find ourselves sprawling on the grassy turf.
A calmness fell over me as I saw my horse race toward the smaller mount of my opponent. It might soon be over, no test of skill, just a larger animal plowing into a smaller one. I braced myself for impact. And then nothing happened.
My horse was past the other animal. Somehow my opponent had made just the right adjustment and swerved around me. As I pulled back on the reins so I could twist around, I heard a clang, and then darkness, nothingness, the blackest of nights with spinning stars the only light.
When my head cleared, I was lying on the ground, my horse standing over me and my opponent a few horse lengths away, waiting.
There wasn't much I could do but try to get up. Only trying and doing were two separate things, especially decked in armor with my head still spinning.
My back ached, my legs throbbed, and the blasted armor seemed heavier than I had ever known it to be.
Eventually I propped myself against a nearby stump and with my back to it, was able to sit up. Then shaking my head to clear the ringing sound, I stood up, barely 30 feet from my opponent.
Rather than run me over as I would have been tempted to do, my opponent simply swung his leg over his horse and leaped to the ground.
As he approached, Blue Sapphire leaped into my hand. His blade was also out, its sharp edges gleaming against the rays of light fighting through the leaves. Again I observed the smaller size of the other knight, his lighter armor, not the full chain mail covering, just a partial. I thought that perhaps this fight would be over quickly.
"I am a swordsman of goodly skill," I said. "I have oft times killed my opponents. I do not want this folly to fall on your head."
The other knight said no words in response, simply closed the distance and swung his sword. It was a lazy tentative swing and I easily blocked it. I decided to surprise him, and swung my sword with as powerful a stroke as I could muster. He didn't even bother to block my swing, simply flicked it aside so the strength of my stroke caused my sword to sweep into the air in an explosive arc of power but only finding empty wind to oppose it. The force of the motion through the air caused me to stumble.
The smaller knight pounced on this opportunity and whipped his sword toward my helmet. I jerked back so the blow was only a glancing one, but it still hit the edge of my helmet leaving my head ringing and almost forcing me to the ground again.
Then I swung at him, a probing swing, not committing anything, ready to parry a stroke, or swing for the kill. I was more cautious now, ice in my veins. This would not be a quick ending. I needed to be careful. So far I had been lucky. I should already be defeated, but somehow I was still on my feet.
For over half an hour, we parried each other, probing the other's defenses, trying to find a weakness that either of us could expose. Both of us were of fairly equal skill. I was the more powerful, but my opponent was quicker. The question of who would win might certainly come down to who would tire first. Of that possibility I was quite unconcerned. I was renown for my endurance. Of course each of my massive strokes did consume more energy than his quick ones, jabbing, slicing, stabbing.
But the end never was a result of any of these possibilities. Like many aspects of life, the conclusion to our affair was decided by chance.
As luck would have it, my opponent slipped on a rock that turned under his foot and threw him sprawling to the ground. Quick to grasp the advantage, I had my sword at his throat in an instant.
"Remove your helmet, knave," I said.
And he did. As the helmet slipped over his head, golden locks of hair fell around his shoulders. That was when I made an important discovery.
"You, you, you're a woman." My mouth was open, jaw slack. If she had possessed a weapon, I would have been a dead knight, I was so shocked.
I helped her to her feet. She began to remove her armor. "It is yours now. You have truly defeated me in fair combat. Never have I lost by the sword. You are truly a master of the weapon."
Minutes later, she stood before me in thin shirt and pants that revealed every contour of her lovely young body. I was amazed that such a young thing could have such skill with weapons. Of course looks can be deceiving especially in regards to age. I myself was not even twenty, considered one of the best fighters in the archipelago. At the moment thoughts of chronological disparities were far from my consideration.
I was staring at the way her chest pushed out against the thin cloth of her shirt. I could see the points of her nipples, poking from behind the thin material. I slipped my hand under her shirt and started to pull it upward.
"You want the shirt too?" she said, her voice rising in what I surmised to be panic.
I smiled. It was certainly not meant to be an evil smile, but my thoughts were certainly focused on my own needs, passions, desires. That she was the object of such interest was merely a matter of circumstance, opportunity that happens seldom and when it does must be grabbed like a lifeline.
So I pulled her shirt over her head. She never resisted, allowed me to expose her pale mounds of softness and joy. Oh how I wanted to run my hands over them to touch them. She was so beautiful and yet I still recalled that this was not a mere maiden found in a tavern, but a fighter as well. She was a woman to walk beside not to drag behind. I had never met her like in my entire life.
She stood there before me, a calmness like a cloak surrounding her, her breasts pale in the flickering light from the canopy of leaves.
"I have never met anyone so fine in battle," I said. "And a woman. I would desire to know you."
"You have my steed, my armor, and now my shirt," she said. "I am vanquished before you. What else do you want?"
"You can have the horse," I cried. "And the armor. I am struck dumb by your beauty. Where did you learn to fight so well?"
She had been staring into my eyes, blazing blue jewels set in the perfect oval of her face. Now she glanced downward. "My father wished for a son but I was all he had."
Then she glanced back into my face full force, straight at me. "There is a lake nearby. I stink."
Soon the two of us were running toward the water, armor and clothes tossed aside. Splashing in the wetness and warmth, I found her near me and pushed her playfully. She slipped and fell under the water. Laughing I walked further into the lake, the water creeping to my chest.
Suddenly, I felt a force on my back. I slipped, fell under the water. Something was on my head forcing me under. I felt her breast in my face and leaped up for air.
She was laughing. "I almost had you," she said the water dripping from her face.
I hardly noticed as my tongue extended to lick a nipple. Soon my mouth had covered her breast. She no longer fought me, her legs curled around my stomach, her arms pressing my face into her chest.
I was drowning now and it had nothing to do with the water around me. Her hands, arms, legs seemed everywhere, under me, around me, entwining me. Hot lips pressed to mine, the softness of her breasts on my chest.
Eventually we ended up on the green carpet of grass beside the lake. Her mouth was around my penis, a hand wrapped around the bottom portion, her mouth fastened to the top. As she slid her mouth downward, her hand would flatten against the side of my leg. Then she pulled up, her hand again grasping my rod, squeezing it like a ripe banana.
Meanwhile with my face between her legs, I licked her thighs. My tongue stroked her skin, moving closer to her labia lips. As I touched them, the juices eased out and fell on my cheeks. I buried my tongue inside of her, curving it to scoop her juices, pulling the liquid toward me, slurping them, swallowing all of it with deep breaths.
My tongue pushed up between her lips, under her nub of love, pushing against the walls of her pussy, the tip inching upward toward that center of pleasure. As I touched it, she gasped. Her mouth pulled away from my cock and a groan escaped from her.
Then she engulfed me again, fully, so that my cock entered deep into her throat, her lips locked around it, her mouth just above my anus. And we lay that way for some time, her lips locked around me, my tongue now slowly circling her button with soft easy strokes.
I knew I was drowning. This was to be no quick round of play, a gasp, a squirt, then fair thee well. No, this was the real thing. I had heard that such an event might happen, a rarity to be sure, but still known to occur. Well, it had finally happened to me.
I broke from our position, crawled over her and engulfed her breast with my mouth. Her nipple was against my tongue and with a circular motion, I slowly grazed the soft point, around and around, then a flick, and finally just sucking it.
One of my hands held her other breast, gently squeezing it, holding her nipple between thumb and first finger. My second hand slid down below, where the juices still flowed, entering her, touching that special place that caused her to jerk up and down.
Her moaning was louder now, her hands around my penis, guiding me to her. I felt the wetness and at first thought it was merely her hands caressing me. Then I felt her thrust upward and I knew that I was inside her.
She was tight as though this was the first time for her. Yet I knew that was not the case. No one with her skill could possibly be a novice. No, this was a woman who had been places, known men. And now it was me she was knowing, knowing in a way that was both wonderful and yet something else, something scary and frightening, like death.
My lips were hot on hers, my tongue deep into her mouth, twisting and swirling like a snake devouring her soul. Only it felt as though my soul was being consumed. I slid my hand down her back, pressing her to me. Her breasts pressed against my chest as though we wanted to merge our bodies together. Sliding my hands down further, I felt her buttocks. Soft and round, not massively large but everything a woman should have with hips that curved from her small waist, to taper back toward her legs.
Pulling her butt toward me, my penis pushed into her as far as possible. I could feel the end rubbing against something, a wall of flesh perhaps, maybe her womb.
Something squeezed inside her and I felt my penis gripped even tighter by the strength of her pussy. And I lost control and pounded back and forth for several minutes. Her passion equaled if not exceeded my own as she met every thrust of mine with a responding movement just as strong and desperate as my own.
"My knight," she cried. "You have won all of me. Now give me that one boon I must have."
"Anything," I whispered, barely able to talk so consumed was I by her silky legs and the tightness of her pussy. "What is it? What do you want?"
"I want your soul," she cried. "You must grovel before me, let me walk over the embers of your wasted life."
"That is one boon I cannot give," I said in return. "I can however give you something far grander, like the elephant is to the mouse, this boon will tower above all other gifts."
"And what is that my Lord," she said softly in my ear, her tongue twisting inside the lobe. Each twist of her tongue caused my penis to jerk as though I was about to erupt.
"My princess," I said. "I want to carry your scarf on my arm as a banner of our endless love. No slave to your demands but Lord to Lady and Lady to Lord."
"But that would be true love," she said jerking against me so I was thrust into her, my pelvis hard against her button.
With my hands on her buttocks I pressed her against me, my penis throbbing inside of her, her clit hard against me. We stayed that way several minutes quivering like a dear and stag in heat, craving the release, almost finding it but allowing it to fade before the onslaught of our contemplations.
"I would you be my slave," she said, "And you mine. I want to feel your hand on the rosy cheeks of my bottom, feel the pain of my naughtiness, then explode into pleasure at your passion."
"You are such a naughty girl, no Lady at all," I said at last. "Yes, I think you should be punished greatly for your sins."
So saying I raised my hand and popped it against the softness of her buttocks.
"Again," she cried. So, I did it again and again.
At the last she cried aloud as if dying. It was the power of her orgasm. As her cries filled the empty forest, shooting across the placid lake, her pussy gripped my penis harder than ever, and finally giving up all hope of sanity, I exploded into her, streams and streams of white fluid squirting into her.
And I collapsed with her on top of me until sleep enfolded us in its loving arms.
As the night slowly faded and the dawn of a new day appeared, I shook my head, pulled myself to my knees to look around
The love of my life was gone, as was her horse, her armor, sword, and shield. Unfortunately, my horse, armor and shield were gone as well.
Only Blue Sapphire remained. So much for true love I thought.
While much of my work on this site is experimental in nature, I am still serious about it. I want it to be handled with integrity and sincerity. I need to have a story removed when I desire it, changed as needed, etc. I do not see this happening in an organized way. I realize that the Gods are overworked. Perhaps fewer contributors should be involved.
For those who did give me suggestions on my previous version, I am pasting my changes to this thread. I wish this changes could have been reflected int he actual submitted story. Thanks again for your help and suggestions. I will respond to any further thoughts as appropriate.
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Knight of Dawn
Fighting was never the most difficult part of my life. Sure it had danger - the possibility of painful death, the tension just before combat. Yet I was an excellent swordsman and danger was the spice and joy of my life.
It was all the other stuff that bothered me. Why should the greatest swordfighter in the archipelago be required to deal with so much foolishness? The tedium of waiting for the next fight, the struggle with heavy armor, cleaning it, replacing broken parts, lugging it from tournament to tournament, all of it was sometimes more than I could possibly handle.
But today was different. Today was perfect.
My legs stretched long in front of me, vibrating against the grease stained oak floor. A couple of women danced on an elevated platform, their pale blue dresses splattered with dark stains, scarves swirling in time to the music.
A smallish bald fellow was embracing a fiddle, the bow flashing against the strings in a way that reminded me of a novice fighter, one who only thought to strike, never to feint and dart away. Of course that was probably the way of musicians. I knew little of such things.
I did know that the music was grand, the wenches lovely, and my mug almost empty.
”More ale,” I cried in a voice that boomed across the tavern.
A comely lass approached. “And why should I bring more bubbly to such as you,” she said laughing.
“I just won a tournament, defeated all who came against me.”
“Aye you did,” she said. “But what about your coin? I haven’t seen a copper or silver piece all night. Out with it or you’ll never see another brew.”
I handed her a silver piece, enough for drinks all around, all night long. Satisfied, she left.
“I win and I pay for all of you? Is that it?” My voice was quiet now, some of the cheer gone from it. I glanced around at my two friends.
“Of course,” Bob said, his smile revealing a perfect set of white teeth. No one had teeth like that at his age. He must have been over thirty five. I wondered how he did it.
“You won a big enough prize,” Ken said. “Share a bit of the wealth man. It’s not time to pinch it. You’ll get your arse in a bind, constipate yourself.”
Forced to laugh at this point, I glanced at the two of them, the best friends any man could possibly have.
Bob Delaney was the older brother, Ken and I had always wanted. Almost past tournament age, he still made the circuit every year. Only now he spent most of his time helping Ken and myself train. And he always received a good percentage of the winnings.
Ken Albright was the crazy one. Slightly older than me in years, he seemed younger because of his mischievous nature. Sometimes I wondered if he would survive long enough to grow old.
“So what made you pull your horse up before that second fight?” Bob asked me. “You almost lost it that time?”
“An itch under my mail coat. Couldn’t get at it, drove me crazy.”
“Nothing like an itch to drive a fighter crazy,” Bob said. “Drove me crazy once, a year ago it was. I was on my horse, couldn’t reach behind, and it wouldn’t stop. Nothing worse than an itch in the wrong spot.”
“There is something far worse,” Ken said with a voice that had his typical monotone, a preface to some sort of levity. “Ever have to go to the toilet? What do you do, out there in the crowd, the other man bearing down, sword flashing? What do you do?”
“You go before the fight starts,” was my reply. “Prevention, man. You think ahead. You’ll never survive if you don’t think ahead.” My voice had a bit of frustration to it now.
Further talk was ended when the waitress returned with our drinks.
“Big winner,” she said to me. “Congratulations. But the Persuader wasn’t there you know. Don’t go bragging around here.”
All I could think of was to spank her. So I did. She yelped.
“Damn you,” she cried. “You want a piece of that, you’ll need more than a win under your belt.”
“I have something far better under my belt,” I said laughing. “You want me to show you?”
“You crazy man,” she said. “I have a real man at home and a young boy. I don’t work here for you. It’s for them.”
“Don’t worry about my friend here,” Ken said. “You couldn’t find that thing under his belt anyway.”
I reached out to slap him, a half-hearted attempt. He ducked easily. So I grabbed the girl, planted my lips on hers. She felt so fine, I slipped my hand over her butt. She struggled at first then pressed against me. At last I pulled away.
“You bastard. My man will hit me now, he finds out.” She pointed to Ken. “You right. I couldn’t feel a thing under his belt.” She laughed in that carefree way that wenches will, then darted to the back of the tavern.
“Speaking of lovely ladies,” Bob said. “I saw one hand you a note just after you won the tournament. She wasn’t a wench. Such a lovely dress, filmy, and soft, like an angel she looked. Probably a hand maiden to royalty. What would they want with you? Is it a special present for the tournament champion?”
I didn’t respond. He could think whatever he wanted.
Leaning back, I raised my mug to my face and drank deeply. Over the rim of the glass, I let my eyes swing around the room. Yes, tonight was indeed perfect. What better way to spend an evening than with friends, beer, and a wench or two.
************************
That note had been like a gift from my liege lord, an alabaster bowl poured over my head. A lady, a true lady wanted to see me – in private. It could only mean one thing.
She arrived with the swish of silk garments, not like the scarlet dressed hussies who frequented the taverns, fat with tournament trade. She wore white, a long flowing gown, that kissed the steps as she descended the staircase.
"I have but little time," she said with a voice that sounded more like breathing than talking, as though she had just run across the castle when I knew it was merely a winding staircase, taken one slow step at a time, in full view of my assessment below.
"Where can we go to be alone?" I asked.
"You are so naughty - alone - without an escort. It can only be the garden. No one goes there these days."
Moments later, I understood why she chose the garden.
She lay on the soft grass, lifted an arm, a smile creeping over her lips, her legs spread apart.
I descended on her, a hand on her thigh, my lips hot against her softer ones.
"My husband has been long gone these many years," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "It has been lonely here in the castle. He may even be dead. The freedom wars never freed anyone, least of all the wives back home.."
Her words gave me pause for a moment, considering our situation. I was the tournament champion, yet of common birth, she of royal blood but without personal accomplishments, skills, or abilities. Unless the soft shadows showing beneath her filmy gown held special gifts, she was merely a prize to be taken, not a love for the cherishing. I hardly knew her. This was merely a man and a maid with their need for one another. Could anything more be accomplished here, I wondered.
My desire grew and I slid my hand along her thigh, over the smoothness of skin, under her gown, along her stomach, rib cage, to her breast. Under the filmy material, she was completely naked, the way she was born, without artifice, neither rich, nor poor, just a woman in heat.
She sighed as my hand surrounded her breast, massaging it, caressing it. My tongue parted her lips. Her tongue was a snake swirling with the growing need of me. And I responded with equal desire, our juices intermingling with the heat of our craving.
Her gown separated easily, revealing her breasts. I slid the tip of my tongue over her lips, down her chin, to her neck. With the barest of touches, my tongue trailed along the slope of her skin, down her neck, a touch, almost a tickle, the tip hardly tasting her. As I neared her breast, I opened my mouth, engulfing the softness of her mound.
She groaned.
"I never knew." Her whisper was almost without sound but in the stillness of the garden, I heard every word. "Let this last forever," she said sliding an arm against my chest, snapping a button open, then another until my shirt was open.
I pulled back, removing my shirt, staring at her lying on the grass. Her skin was alabaster, the scent of lilacs spreading upward. I opened the rest of her gown gazing down at her, her hazel eyes staring into mine. I let my glance move downward over the perfect breasts the small waist, a wisp of blond between her legs, and such legs. They were white as the rest of her, long and slender. I couldn't resist touching them, sliding my hand over the outside of them, touching her knee, her foot, then returning inside the leg, spreading them, lightly grazing her thigh, and placing a hand on the hair under her stomach.
She was far different from any of the other women I had known. I had no wife, no kept woman. I wandered from tournament to tournament, finding a taste of flesh here and there wherever my path would lead me. Most of them were tavern wenches, the kind that seldom washed, had dirt under fingernails with a bit too much flavor between the legs. As an islander, I had once sworn off women altogether. I liked the fish smell but these fillies had turned it sour, spoiled like rancid butter.
Despite my constant misgivings, the toss of long hair, the strut and swish of ample hips always had me sniffing around for more.
Samantha was different, a breath of fresh air, yet troubling in a way I did not quite understand. As I gazed down on her, I felt my penis quicken, hardening like a broom handle, quivering, wanting her more than thought itself. I would give up all fighting I thought, if I could just have this garden of delights every night.
"Your tongue," she cried. "Lick me, all of me."
I slid my tongue down her breast and along her chest. Like a worm, I wiggled the tip across her skin. She was delicious. As I caressed her with my lips, my tongue flicked between them, tasting her, exciting her, enticing her. Her taste was something I would never forget, a tinge of saltiness and something else, a fruitiness.
As I approached her belly button, I turned my body sideways, positioning my penis near her mouth, so close I could feel her hot breath on it sending a tingling sensation through me. My penis twitched with desire and rubbed against her cheek.
"Please," I said softly. "Suck me."
She placed me in her mouth. She was a novice but her inhibitions were disappearing as fast as the island tides change in the early morning hours. I felt her mouth tighten around me. I pushed forward until my penis hit the back of her throat. Her nose rested against my balls. Then she tightened her mouth and sucked me as though she had been doing it for years. I felt my stomach tighten, a stirring grew deep inside me, craving to let go. But I didn't want it to end yet. There was so much more to do.
My tongue wrapped itself around the hairs between her legs. I slid to the edge of her slit, delicately probing the inner sanctums of her private folds. They were wet and I lapped up the juices like a lapdog, tasting the sweet fragrance that seemed to call to me – fuck me, fuck me. But that would have to wait. I had a meal to finish.
I continued to swirl my tongue over the edges of her slit, inching closer to that little button of love, the nub of desire. As I lightly grazed it, she jerked upward, an act that forced my penis deeper into her throat. I was now past the back of her mouth and several inches down her throat. I wondered how she could breathe properly since with each movement, her throat and mouth clenched my penis. I couldn't believe it that I hadn't shot my load long before.
And for a moment, all I could think about was the delightful way she jerked and quivered each time my tongue touched her little button. And each time this happened I quivered as well, her grip on my penis constricting tight around me.
"Don't come," she cried sliding off of me. "I want you inside me."
My penis bounced up and down, quivering in the cool air. Spreading her legs, I rested the tip against her pussy. She pushed upward and the tip slowly entered her. After a couple of inches it stopped. I pushed downward and slowly her pussy expanded to allow me to enter her further and further.
It had been a long time since she had been with a man. She was tight, so very tight, as though it was her first time. I eased my penis back and then pushed forward again. It went further this time and further still the next. I wondered what this would mean to the two of us. I was a commoner, she a lady, royalty. Sure I was tournament champion, but what value was that against the blue blood of an aristocrat.
She cried as I ripped her apart, my penis embedded full into her, my pelvis rubbing against her button. Then slowly I drew back, my penis encased in as tight a pussy as I had ever felt before. Just as the tip almost exited her pussy, I slid back again.
"Oh," she cried. "It's like fire. Don't stop. It hurts like fire but I want it, all of it."
And I obliged. I slowed my pace down as the eruption of my desire grew closer and closer. She wasn't ready yet. I did not want to release too soon. I wanted her to find the pain and the glory, the sunshine and the rain. I wanted to rock her world, to change her forever, to remove the naïve little grin from her face. This was no love making exercise between two turtle dove adolescents. No this was a man possessing a woman.
Yet my control was almost gone. How I wanted to erupt inside her to feel her pussy convulse around me. We were almost there.
I gripped her shapely buttocks in my arms and pulled her toward me.
"Ahh," I cried as I shot my seed into her.
It was as though my seed had stimulated her beyond her resistance. She came as well, screaming my name over and over. I covered her mouth so the entire castle wouldn't hear us.
And then our passions waned. We lay back in the grass, legs entangled, chests together, a tiredness covering us like a blanket, protective and warm.
Some time later unsure of the time, I shook my head to clear it of sleep. I studied the woman beside me, my thoughts on how different we were. Her station in life was so much higher than my own. She thought herself better than I. It was something that I could not accept and with the passion gone, this stared me straight in my face. I had no desire to fight for her, carry her ribbon on my shield.
************************
Starting late the next day, tired but pleasantly happy as well, I waved good-by to my friends, and led my horse out of town. There was a new tournament a few leagues to the east and my late start would require some fast riding if I wanted to reach the next town by nightfall.
The sun was bright, my armor while never shiny was clean. Yet the years had made their impact on it. Each surface had little dents and scrapes that no amount of hard work could remove.
Early afternoon, I reached a small glen under the shade of a towering forest filled with the yellow trees that were home to the eagles who protected our fair land from air assaults. From across the open area, a knight approached me at a gallop, his shield swaying in the afternoon light, catching a stray beam of sunlight that had fought through the leaves and branches above us.
The crest on his shield was of unknown origin, containing a single robin surrounded by green oak leaves. I had seen nothing like it in all my previous experiences. His armor was black, absorbing the sunlight like a dark cavern. This contrasted with his white horse -- light and darkness together – twins of disparity. What a sight you'd make at the tournament, I thought.
I was in the best shape of my life, armor in perfect order, a well-trained horse, even a bath late into the evening. I flexed my muscles, feeling the blood flood into my fighting arm. It held the pride of my young life, my blade, Blue Sapphire.
As my opponent loomed in front of me, I noticed the size of his horse – 15 hands, small for a horse, any horse. It carried a knight with heavy armor. Yet the horse raced easily, eager for the battle to begin. The rider was smaller than I had first surmised. The contrast to the horse had made me think of a giant knight ready to devour me. Instead, he was much smaller than I.
I wondered what kind of a battle I would have. Would this be difficult or easy? As fine a fighter as I was, I always had this moment of doubt before a contest. Was I still the best? Eventually someone would show up to beat me. Was this the time? Had my speed slackened just a little, that small bit that separated the expert from the mediocre?
As rider and horse reached me I pulled on the reins. "Desist a moment sir," I shouted.
Ten paces from me the horse and rider stopped. We stood there for several moments in silence. Then I spoke.
"I have no conflict with you." My words were loud in the stillness of the glen.
No response.
"Why risk death when there is no reason for it?"
Still no response from the mysterious rider.
I sat motionless for many minutes, studying the equally still rider before me. Neither of us moved or spoke as the other rider adjusted his sword. Pointing it toward me, he kicked his heels into the side of his horse.
Combat using a sword from horseback was a completely different activity from the normal challenge of fighting with two feet solid on the ground. Anything can happen and usually did. So many variables were involved. Yet the most important factor was the horse itself.
Generally, a large and fast horse would win such encounters. The skill of the rider was also crucial, but mainly as it applied to understanding and guiding his mount. When a thousand pound horse barreled toward someone, no skill with a sword made much difference.
Part of this was simply the speed and sheer mass of the animal. But part of the animal’s importance was due to a well understood fighting etiquette. The horse was considered a non-combatant. Anyone who ever deliberately hurt a horse would be tarred and feathered by every able bodied man in the immediate vicinity. It was an absolute rule, like fucking your sister, simply not allowed.
Of course many a man had been known to fuck his sister. I had no big problems with it personally. None of my business I figured. Yet to hurt a horse was far worse, like choking a helpless child, something simply not done.
As we raced toward each other, I raised my sword about waist high, just above the withers, a perfect spot to strike my opponent. Most knights would point their sword straight in front of them, almost like the lances used in actual tournaments. I chose a more subtle approach, sword at my side ready to slash in any direction.
Our horses were approaching each other at a dangerous speed. His horse was even faster than mine, but smaller. I should be able to unseat him. Yet at this speed anything could happen. In seconds both of us could easily find ourselves sprawling on the grassy turf.
A calmness fell over me as I saw my horse race toward the smaller mount of my opponent. It might soon be over, no test of skill, just a larger animal plowing into a smaller one. I braced myself for impact. And then nothing happened.
My horse was past the other animal. Somehow my opponent had made just the right adjustment and swerved around me. As I pulled back on the reins so I could twist around, I heard a clang, and then darkness, nothingness, the blackest of nights with spinning stars the only light.
When my head cleared, I was lying on the ground, my horse standing over me and my opponent a few horse lengths away, waiting.
There wasn't much I could do but try to get up. Only trying and doing were two separate things, especially decked in armor with my head still spinning.
My back ached, my legs throbbed, and the blasted armor seemed heavier than I had ever known it to be.
Eventually I propped myself against a nearby stump and with my back to it, was able to sit up. Then shaking my head to clear the ringing sound, I stood up, barely 30 feet from my opponent.
Rather than run me over as I would have been tempted to do, my opponent simply swung his leg over his horse and leaped to the ground.
As he approached, Blue Sapphire leaped into my hand. His blade was also out, its sharp edges gleaming against the rays of light fighting through the leaves. Again I observed the smaller size of the other knight, his lighter armor, not the full chain mail covering, just a partial. I thought that perhaps this fight would be over quickly.
"I am a swordsman of goodly skill," I said. "I have oft times killed my opponents. I do not want this folly to fall on your head."
The other knight said no words in response, simply closed the distance and swung his sword. It was a lazy tentative swing and I easily blocked it. I decided to surprise him, and swung my sword with as powerful a stroke as I could muster. He didn't even bother to block my swing, simply flicked it aside so the strength of my stroke caused my sword to sweep into the air in an explosive arc of power but only finding empty wind to oppose it. The force of the motion through the air caused me to stumble.
The smaller knight pounced on this opportunity and whipped his sword toward my helmet. I jerked back so the blow was only a glancing one, but it still hit the edge of my helmet leaving my head ringing and almost forcing me to the ground again.
Then I swung at him, a probing swing, not committing anything, ready to parry a stroke, or swing for the kill. I was more cautious now, ice in my veins. This would not be a quick ending. I needed to be careful. So far I had been lucky. I should already be defeated, but somehow I was still on my feet.
For over half an hour, we parried each other, probing the other's defenses, trying to find a weakness that either of us could expose. Both of us were of fairly equal skill. I was the more powerful, but my opponent was quicker. The question of who would win might certainly come down to who would tire first. Of that possibility I was quite unconcerned. I was renown for my endurance. Of course each of my massive strokes did consume more energy than his quick ones, jabbing, slicing, stabbing.
But the end never was a result of any of these possibilities. Like many aspects of life, the conclusion to our affair was decided by chance.
As luck would have it, my opponent slipped on a rock that turned under his foot and threw him sprawling to the ground. Quick to grasp the advantage, I had my sword at his throat in an instant.
"Remove your helmet, knave," I said.
And he did. As the helmet slipped over his head, golden locks of hair fell around his shoulders. That was when I made an important discovery.
"You, you, you're a woman." My mouth was open, jaw slack. If she had possessed a weapon, I would have been a dead knight, I was so shocked.
I helped her to her feet. She began to remove her armor. "It is yours now. You have truly defeated me in fair combat. Never have I lost by the sword. You are truly a master of the weapon."
Minutes later, she stood before me in thin shirt and pants that revealed every contour of her lovely young body. I was amazed that such a young thing could have such skill with weapons. Of course looks can be deceiving especially in regards to age. I myself was not even twenty, considered one of the best fighters in the archipelago. At the moment thoughts of chronological disparities were far from my consideration.
I was staring at the way her chest pushed out against the thin cloth of her shirt. I could see the points of her nipples, poking from behind the thin material. I slipped my hand under her shirt and started to pull it upward.
"You want the shirt too?" she said, her voice rising in what I surmised to be panic.
I smiled. It was certainly not meant to be an evil smile, but my thoughts were certainly focused on my own needs, passions, desires. That she was the object of such interest was merely a matter of circumstance, opportunity that happens seldom and when it does must be grabbed like a lifeline.
So I pulled her shirt over her head. She never resisted, allowed me to expose her pale mounds of softness and joy. Oh how I wanted to run my hands over them to touch them. She was so beautiful and yet I still recalled that this was not a mere maiden found in a tavern, but a fighter as well. She was a woman to walk beside not to drag behind. I had never met her like in my entire life.
She stood there before me, a calmness like a cloak surrounding her, her breasts pale in the flickering light from the canopy of leaves.
"I have never met anyone so fine in battle," I said. "And a woman. I would desire to know you."
"You have my steed, my armor, and now my shirt," she said. "I am vanquished before you. What else do you want?"
"You can have the horse," I cried. "And the armor. I am struck dumb by your beauty. Where did you learn to fight so well?"
She had been staring into my eyes, blazing blue jewels set in the perfect oval of her face. Now she glanced downward. "My father wished for a son but I was all he had."
Then she glanced back into my face full force, straight at me. "There is a lake nearby. I stink."
Soon the two of us were running toward the water, armor and clothes tossed aside. Splashing in the wetness and warmth, I found her near me and pushed her playfully. She slipped and fell under the water. Laughing I walked further into the lake, the water creeping to my chest.
Suddenly, I felt a force on my back. I slipped, fell under the water. Something was on my head forcing me under. I felt her breast in my face and leaped up for air.
She was laughing. "I almost had you," she said the water dripping from her face.
I hardly noticed as my tongue extended to lick a nipple. Soon my mouth had covered her breast. She no longer fought me, her legs curled around my stomach, her arms pressing my face into her chest.
I was drowning now and it had nothing to do with the water around me. Her hands, arms, legs seemed everywhere, under me, around me, entwining me. Hot lips pressed to mine, the softness of her breasts on my chest.
Eventually we ended up on the green carpet of grass beside the lake. Her mouth was around my penis, a hand wrapped around the bottom portion, her mouth fastened to the top. As she slid her mouth downward, her hand would flatten against the side of my leg. Then she pulled up, her hand again grasping my rod, squeezing it like a ripe banana.
Meanwhile with my face between her legs, I licked her thighs. My tongue stroked her skin, moving closer to her labia lips. As I touched them, the juices eased out and fell on my cheeks. I buried my tongue inside of her, curving it to scoop her juices, pulling the liquid toward me, slurping them, swallowing all of it with deep breaths.
My tongue pushed up between her lips, under her nub of love, pushing against the walls of her pussy, the tip inching upward toward that center of pleasure. As I touched it, she gasped. Her mouth pulled away from my cock and a groan escaped from her.
Then she engulfed me again, fully, so that my cock entered deep into her throat, her lips locked around it, her mouth just above my anus. And we lay that way for some time, her lips locked around me, my tongue now slowly circling her button with soft easy strokes.
I knew I was drowning. This was to be no quick round of play, a gasp, a squirt, then fair thee well. No, this was the real thing. I had heard that such an event might happen, a rarity to be sure, but still known to occur. Well, it had finally happened to me.
I broke from our position, crawled over her and engulfed her breast with my mouth. Her nipple was against my tongue and with a circular motion, I slowly grazed the soft point, around and around, then a flick, and finally just sucking it.
One of my hands held her other breast, gently squeezing it, holding her nipple between thumb and first finger. My second hand slid down below, where the juices still flowed, entering her, touching that special place that caused her to jerk up and down.
Her moaning was louder now, her hands around my penis, guiding me to her. I felt the wetness and at first thought it was merely her hands caressing me. Then I felt her thrust upward and I knew that I was inside her.
She was tight as though this was the first time for her. Yet I knew that was not the case. No one with her skill could possibly be a novice. No, this was a woman who had been places, known men. And now it was me she was knowing, knowing in a way that was both wonderful and yet something else, something scary and frightening, like death.
My lips were hot on hers, my tongue deep into her mouth, twisting and swirling like a snake devouring her soul. Only it felt as though my soul was being consumed. I slid my hand down her back, pressing her to me. Her breasts pressed against my chest as though we wanted to merge our bodies together. Sliding my hands down further, I felt her buttocks. Soft and round, not massively large but everything a woman should have with hips that curved from her small waist, to taper back toward her legs.
Pulling her butt toward me, my penis pushed into her as far as possible. I could feel the end rubbing against something, a wall of flesh perhaps, maybe her womb.
Something squeezed inside her and I felt my penis gripped even tighter by the strength of her pussy. And I lost control and pounded back and forth for several minutes. Her passion equaled if not exceeded my own as she met every thrust of mine with a responding movement just as strong and desperate as my own.
"My knight," she cried. "You have won all of me. Now give me that one boon I must have."
"Anything," I whispered, barely able to talk so consumed was I by her silky legs and the tightness of her pussy. "What is it? What do you want?"
"I want your soul," she cried. "You must grovel before me, let me walk over the embers of your wasted life."
"That is one boon I cannot give," I said in return. "I can however give you something far grander, like the elephant is to the mouse, this boon will tower above all other gifts."
"And what is that my Lord," she said softly in my ear, her tongue twisting inside the lobe. Each twist of her tongue caused my penis to jerk as though I was about to erupt.
"My princess," I said. "I want to carry your scarf on my arm as a banner of our endless love. No slave to your demands but Lord to Lady and Lady to Lord."
"But that would be true love," she said jerking against me so I was thrust into her, my pelvis hard against her button.
With my hands on her buttocks I pressed her against me, my penis throbbing inside of her, her clit hard against me. We stayed that way several minutes quivering like a dear and stag in heat, craving the release, almost finding it but allowing it to fade before the onslaught of our contemplations.
"I would you be my slave," she said, "And you mine. I want to feel your hand on the rosy cheeks of my bottom, feel the pain of my naughtiness, then explode into pleasure at your passion."
"You are such a naughty girl, no Lady at all," I said at last. "Yes, I think you should be punished greatly for your sins."
So saying I raised my hand and popped it against the softness of her buttocks.
"Again," she cried. So, I did it again and again.
At the last she cried aloud as if dying. It was the power of her orgasm. As her cries filled the empty forest, shooting across the placid lake, her pussy gripped my penis harder than ever, and finally giving up all hope of sanity, I exploded into her, streams and streams of white fluid squirting into her.
And I collapsed with her on top of me until sleep enfolded us in its loving arms.
As the night slowly faded and the dawn of a new day appeared, I shook my head, pulled myself to my knees to look around
The love of my life was gone, as was her horse, her armor, sword, and shield. Unfortunately, my horse, armor and shield were gone as well.
Only Blue Sapphire remained. So much for true love I thought.
