Bootslutgirl
Virgin
- Joined
- Jan 3, 2006
- Posts
- 2
The Knightesses: Feedback, artist wanted (long, explicit)
Here is my first serious attempt at a story. I have two versions: one quite quick, one much more detailed. They do describe slightly different scenarios. I'd like to know which works better. Also, I'd like to know if anyone has a talent for drawing, as I'd love to have pictures accompany the final product (but alas, I cannot draw). Warning: very explicit and extreme. Thanks,
Bootslutgirl
Version 1:
We wear crotch-high patent leather boots, with pointed toes and sharp heels; long white gloves, thick and heavy but still feminine, running all the way up to our shoulders. We have golden body armour that is in form an impenetrable corset that accents our luscious breasts, and a long skirt of fine chains that shimmers and brushes the tops of our boots when we stand. Sleek golden helmets protect our heads.
We are known for being merciless - just the other day an enemy was begging for mercy, and I threw him down and stabbed him through the throat with the heel of my patent leather boot; you took another who was kneeling before you, and laying your massive gloves on him you twisted his head, breaking his neck with a satisfying crunch, and threw him to the dust. On horseback with our lances, we have slaughtered thousands - whole armies that oppose us, peasant villages that we chose to eradicate, innocent brides on their wedding day, parents in front of their children, anyone. We were unstoppable.
When we mount our horses, the saddles are of fine silver, with a clean, thick phallus sticking out - we impale ourselves on it so we can keep our balance as we ride and fight. It is not uncommon to have several orgasms as we ride to the slaughter; you get used to balancing after the first few waves hit you.
As we charge, the orgasmic cries of our sisters are ringing in our ears as they, one after another, feel beautiful eruptions between their thighs owing to the phallus that penetrates them deeply and to the rhythm of our galloping steeds. We see our enemy, and confidently descent upon them, our lances lowered; but this time is different. A strange swish cuts the air, and the knightess between us is struck between the legs, her cunt split open by a thick shaft of cold steel. She looks at you with an expression of surprise at this new sensation, and begins to grasp helplessly at the shaft with her massive gloves, finally crying out in orgasm. We see the cum spurt down the steel before her dark blood mingles with it. She falls to the ground, her boots and gloves still shuddering with the force of her cumming. But now the enemy is all around us, the long steel shafts propelled at us from every direction. We are no match for such numbers, and we see our sisters falling all around us. We hear their orgasmic death-screams, and are turned on all the more at seeing them cum.
Behind us the battlefield is strewn with hundreds of bodies of our sisters, their pussies impaled, their gloves grasping at the shafts. Some fall such that the butt end of the javelin is forced into the ground and the tip is driven out through their breasts, cumming explosively. Others orgasm upon penetration, but when they fall have the strength to lay their massive gloves on the shaft and masturbate to a second orgasm as the life goes out of them.
As we approach the enemy lines, we bear down with our lances, but they set their spears and cut through our horses - hundreds of knightesses fall to the ground in mere seconds, impaled on the steel shafts. Seeing this, that we are completely undone, I raise my gloved hands above my head and spread my booted legs. My end comes quickly - a barbarian sees me, and brandishing his shaft, he rams it up inside me. I bear down on the shaft now splitting my dripping cunt apart, driving it deeper inside me. My eyes roll back into my head as an orgasm washes over me; and the last sight I see, as I fall to the ground with a clatter, is the cum spraying from your pussy as you are impaled too.
A. The Sacrifice
Every so often, there is an initiation of new knights - sisters who are virgins, who rip through their hymens by slamming their sweet pussies down on the phalluses of the saddles. But as part of our tradition, we sacrifice one new virgin sister. She stands on the parapet; she stands with the lance held in her massive gloves, her thigh-high boots spread wide, working it into her pussy.
She undertakes her task well; she knows what is expected of her. She stands on the parapet looking down at the new virgins who have yet to mount their horses, working the lance inside, teasing her pussy, her cries reaching orgasmic pitches. She begins to cum, and it flows down the shaft - and takes two steps forward so that her shining boots leave the parapet and she falls, cumming hard, as the butt of the lance sinks into the ground and is driven up through her pussy, the tip bursting through her breasts from the inside; her orgasmic deathscream is heard miles away. The new virgins look at her, knowing she is a virgin like them, but has sacrificed herself. The impaled virgin is still shuddering on the lance, her cum still runs down it, her massive gloves still seem to grasp helplessly at the lance, her boots shudder, suspended as they are above the ground.
But the enemy has planned for this: they are on the walls, and launch a massive attack against the new knights, cutting down many of them as they stand, their pussies ripped apart by the silver shafts launched at them. Many run to their horses but are pathetically cut down, their orgasmic screams echoing in the courtyard. One standing near the middle we see is almost on her horse, almost ready tear her tender hymen on the phallus of the saddle, when a barbarian comes up behind her and robs her of this pleasure - thrusting the shaft up her cunt. We see her eyes roll back in her head as a massive orgasm sweeps through her body: the blood of her hymen, followed by her cum, followed by the blood of her body slide down the shaft, and her armour body, shuddering, clatters to the ground. In all, no fewer than a hundred virgin knights lost their lives that day; in all, no fewer than a hundred young female knights came out their essence. The courtyard was strewn with their bodies, many still shuddering; many gripping with their massive gloves the merciless shafts.
Version 2:
From time immemorial, the glorious knightesses of this land have been loved for their beauty, and feared for their ferociousness. It is said that the mere sight of a knightess on her steed is a bad omen, and that death is sure to be near at hand. My story is the tale of their merciless slaughter and the ensuing hunt that saw every last one of the knightesses brutally exterminated.
A knightess is magnificence personified. She wears black patent-leather crotch high boots, unadorned except from the delicate zippers that run along the inside of each boot from the arch of her foot to top of the towering shafts. Her boots have a slight platform, pointed toes and sharp heels. As she strides forward, patterns of light dance on the highly reflective leather. The inner shaft of her boots rise to peak that brushes against her pussy lips. This design gently stimulates her as she moves, and encourages her searing juices to begin slowly dripping down her boots.
Long white gloves protect and adorn her hands and arms, running from her slender fingers to her shoulders. Her gloves are remarkably constructed: massive and heavy, able to deflect the blow of a sword, but as feminine and attractive as the long leather gloves worn by a debutante at her presentation. A sleek golden helmet adorns her head. There is no visor to obscure her pretty face, and her long thick hair flows from underneath.
Her body armour is one piece of golden metal, ornately wrought, being in form a corset at the top and a short skirt of fine chains at the bottom. Her nipples stand erect against the cold metal as she dons her corset and pulls it tight. It reveals a perfect figure, the strapless sweetheart shape caressing pushing together her full breasts, showing off her ample cleavage. The corset extends down her body, broadening over her hips, giving way to the chains.
In battle, a force of knightesses are unstoppable, merciless, and destroy all those who oppose them. I have seen them ride to the slaughter of thousands: heavily armoured barbarians, an outpost defended by archers, villages of unarmed peasants, children in front of their parents. I have seen the ride to the slaughter of one: a virgin the day before her wedding, a princess who betrayed them.
A knightess relishes the death of her victims, and delights in flaunting her sexuality. Often a knightess will incapacitate several victims and masturbate in front of them, working three fingers of her massive gloves into her pussy until she orgasms dramatically. She then puts her hands on the head of one of her victims, allowing the slippery perfume of her juices to permeate the air and quickly twists, breaking the neck with a satisfying crunch. Or perhaps she holds out the fingers of her massive gloves that were so recently buried in her pulsing cunt, and watches the glistening cum drip into the shafts of her boots, allowing her victim to see the glistening nectar run slowly down the patent leather just before she rams the sharp heel of her boot through the throat.
A. The Sacrifice
Part of the ritual initiation of the knightesses involves sacrifice. After the completion of their training, when the women are reading to become full-fledged knightesses, they dress for the sacrifice. The virgin initiates don their armour, gloves and boots - with the exception of ten of their number, who put on beautiful wedding gowns: strapless corseted bodices, full satin skirts, shimmering veils, their customary long white leather gloves. The brides ascend to the parapet, aroused and with their cunts aching in anticipation; but they do not ache for long. On the parapet, ten sybians stand ready, each with a massive silver phallus thrusting from its centre, each vibrating vigourously. Each bride carefully lifts her skirts over the sybian, and kneels down so that the tip of the phallus breaches her pussy lips; this stimulation causes her warm juices to drip onto the cold silver shaft oscillating between her thighs. Her breath becomes uneven as her excitement builds, and finally she bears down on the phallus. It slides up inside her and she shrieks in pain as her tender hymen is brutally impaled. But the pain quickly subsides, and she takes the full length of the phallus into her voracious cunt, her pussy spasming with pleasure, her body rocked by uncontrollable shudders. She begins to moan as she rhythmically fucks the sybian.
As the ecstasy of the brides builds, ten knightesses chosen to perform the sacrifice mount the parapet and stand in front of the kneeling brides. The knightesses are already dripping from the sight and sound of the brides, but they begin to satisfy their longing by thrusting three fingers of their massive gloves into their trembling cunts. The knightesses work quickly, each bringing themselves off multiple times, at first so gently that their juices slide down their thighs into the tops of their boots, but eventually so explosively that their fluids squirt down the outer shafts of their boots. But this is more than the virgin brides can bear, and they begin to orgasm as well.
When she sees her bride cumming, each knightess draws her sword, pushes the bride off the sybian, and sinks the weapon deep into the bride's cunt. The bride begins to convulse violently, her eyes roll back into her head, and she cries out in an orgasmic deathscream that can be heard by everyone. The knightess twists the blade in deeper and looks into the contorted face of her dying sister, glorying in the translucent cum and dark blood is flowing from the cunt of the shuddering bride, soaking the shining white satin skirt of the wedding gown. Finally, the knightess turns her attention to her own clit and, as she starts cumming she steps over the still moaning bride and throws herself from the parapet onto the field of set javelins below. One of the javelins mercifully finds its target - the alluring cunt of the magnificent knightess, She cums explosively as the javelin is driven up inside her and bursts through her breasts. Ten brides remain lying on the parapet with silver swords buried in their cunts to the hilt. Ten knightesses remain impaled on javelins in the courtyard, their gloves and boots still shuddering with the force of their orgasms, gripping with their massive gloves the merciless shafts.
Here is my first serious attempt at a story. I have two versions: one quite quick, one much more detailed. They do describe slightly different scenarios. I'd like to know which works better. Also, I'd like to know if anyone has a talent for drawing, as I'd love to have pictures accompany the final product (but alas, I cannot draw). Warning: very explicit and extreme. Thanks,
Bootslutgirl
Version 1:
We wear crotch-high patent leather boots, with pointed toes and sharp heels; long white gloves, thick and heavy but still feminine, running all the way up to our shoulders. We have golden body armour that is in form an impenetrable corset that accents our luscious breasts, and a long skirt of fine chains that shimmers and brushes the tops of our boots when we stand. Sleek golden helmets protect our heads.
We are known for being merciless - just the other day an enemy was begging for mercy, and I threw him down and stabbed him through the throat with the heel of my patent leather boot; you took another who was kneeling before you, and laying your massive gloves on him you twisted his head, breaking his neck with a satisfying crunch, and threw him to the dust. On horseback with our lances, we have slaughtered thousands - whole armies that oppose us, peasant villages that we chose to eradicate, innocent brides on their wedding day, parents in front of their children, anyone. We were unstoppable.
When we mount our horses, the saddles are of fine silver, with a clean, thick phallus sticking out - we impale ourselves on it so we can keep our balance as we ride and fight. It is not uncommon to have several orgasms as we ride to the slaughter; you get used to balancing after the first few waves hit you.
As we charge, the orgasmic cries of our sisters are ringing in our ears as they, one after another, feel beautiful eruptions between their thighs owing to the phallus that penetrates them deeply and to the rhythm of our galloping steeds. We see our enemy, and confidently descent upon them, our lances lowered; but this time is different. A strange swish cuts the air, and the knightess between us is struck between the legs, her cunt split open by a thick shaft of cold steel. She looks at you with an expression of surprise at this new sensation, and begins to grasp helplessly at the shaft with her massive gloves, finally crying out in orgasm. We see the cum spurt down the steel before her dark blood mingles with it. She falls to the ground, her boots and gloves still shuddering with the force of her cumming. But now the enemy is all around us, the long steel shafts propelled at us from every direction. We are no match for such numbers, and we see our sisters falling all around us. We hear their orgasmic death-screams, and are turned on all the more at seeing them cum.
Behind us the battlefield is strewn with hundreds of bodies of our sisters, their pussies impaled, their gloves grasping at the shafts. Some fall such that the butt end of the javelin is forced into the ground and the tip is driven out through their breasts, cumming explosively. Others orgasm upon penetration, but when they fall have the strength to lay their massive gloves on the shaft and masturbate to a second orgasm as the life goes out of them.
As we approach the enemy lines, we bear down with our lances, but they set their spears and cut through our horses - hundreds of knightesses fall to the ground in mere seconds, impaled on the steel shafts. Seeing this, that we are completely undone, I raise my gloved hands above my head and spread my booted legs. My end comes quickly - a barbarian sees me, and brandishing his shaft, he rams it up inside me. I bear down on the shaft now splitting my dripping cunt apart, driving it deeper inside me. My eyes roll back into my head as an orgasm washes over me; and the last sight I see, as I fall to the ground with a clatter, is the cum spraying from your pussy as you are impaled too.
A. The Sacrifice
Every so often, there is an initiation of new knights - sisters who are virgins, who rip through their hymens by slamming their sweet pussies down on the phalluses of the saddles. But as part of our tradition, we sacrifice one new virgin sister. She stands on the parapet; she stands with the lance held in her massive gloves, her thigh-high boots spread wide, working it into her pussy.
She undertakes her task well; she knows what is expected of her. She stands on the parapet looking down at the new virgins who have yet to mount their horses, working the lance inside, teasing her pussy, her cries reaching orgasmic pitches. She begins to cum, and it flows down the shaft - and takes two steps forward so that her shining boots leave the parapet and she falls, cumming hard, as the butt of the lance sinks into the ground and is driven up through her pussy, the tip bursting through her breasts from the inside; her orgasmic deathscream is heard miles away. The new virgins look at her, knowing she is a virgin like them, but has sacrificed herself. The impaled virgin is still shuddering on the lance, her cum still runs down it, her massive gloves still seem to grasp helplessly at the lance, her boots shudder, suspended as they are above the ground.
But the enemy has planned for this: they are on the walls, and launch a massive attack against the new knights, cutting down many of them as they stand, their pussies ripped apart by the silver shafts launched at them. Many run to their horses but are pathetically cut down, their orgasmic screams echoing in the courtyard. One standing near the middle we see is almost on her horse, almost ready tear her tender hymen on the phallus of the saddle, when a barbarian comes up behind her and robs her of this pleasure - thrusting the shaft up her cunt. We see her eyes roll back in her head as a massive orgasm sweeps through her body: the blood of her hymen, followed by her cum, followed by the blood of her body slide down the shaft, and her armour body, shuddering, clatters to the ground. In all, no fewer than a hundred virgin knights lost their lives that day; in all, no fewer than a hundred young female knights came out their essence. The courtyard was strewn with their bodies, many still shuddering; many gripping with their massive gloves the merciless shafts.
Version 2:
From time immemorial, the glorious knightesses of this land have been loved for their beauty, and feared for their ferociousness. It is said that the mere sight of a knightess on her steed is a bad omen, and that death is sure to be near at hand. My story is the tale of their merciless slaughter and the ensuing hunt that saw every last one of the knightesses brutally exterminated.
A knightess is magnificence personified. She wears black patent-leather crotch high boots, unadorned except from the delicate zippers that run along the inside of each boot from the arch of her foot to top of the towering shafts. Her boots have a slight platform, pointed toes and sharp heels. As she strides forward, patterns of light dance on the highly reflective leather. The inner shaft of her boots rise to peak that brushes against her pussy lips. This design gently stimulates her as she moves, and encourages her searing juices to begin slowly dripping down her boots.
Long white gloves protect and adorn her hands and arms, running from her slender fingers to her shoulders. Her gloves are remarkably constructed: massive and heavy, able to deflect the blow of a sword, but as feminine and attractive as the long leather gloves worn by a debutante at her presentation. A sleek golden helmet adorns her head. There is no visor to obscure her pretty face, and her long thick hair flows from underneath.
Her body armour is one piece of golden metal, ornately wrought, being in form a corset at the top and a short skirt of fine chains at the bottom. Her nipples stand erect against the cold metal as she dons her corset and pulls it tight. It reveals a perfect figure, the strapless sweetheart shape caressing pushing together her full breasts, showing off her ample cleavage. The corset extends down her body, broadening over her hips, giving way to the chains.
In battle, a force of knightesses are unstoppable, merciless, and destroy all those who oppose them. I have seen them ride to the slaughter of thousands: heavily armoured barbarians, an outpost defended by archers, villages of unarmed peasants, children in front of their parents. I have seen the ride to the slaughter of one: a virgin the day before her wedding, a princess who betrayed them.
A knightess relishes the death of her victims, and delights in flaunting her sexuality. Often a knightess will incapacitate several victims and masturbate in front of them, working three fingers of her massive gloves into her pussy until she orgasms dramatically. She then puts her hands on the head of one of her victims, allowing the slippery perfume of her juices to permeate the air and quickly twists, breaking the neck with a satisfying crunch. Or perhaps she holds out the fingers of her massive gloves that were so recently buried in her pulsing cunt, and watches the glistening cum drip into the shafts of her boots, allowing her victim to see the glistening nectar run slowly down the patent leather just before she rams the sharp heel of her boot through the throat.
A. The Sacrifice
Part of the ritual initiation of the knightesses involves sacrifice. After the completion of their training, when the women are reading to become full-fledged knightesses, they dress for the sacrifice. The virgin initiates don their armour, gloves and boots - with the exception of ten of their number, who put on beautiful wedding gowns: strapless corseted bodices, full satin skirts, shimmering veils, their customary long white leather gloves. The brides ascend to the parapet, aroused and with their cunts aching in anticipation; but they do not ache for long. On the parapet, ten sybians stand ready, each with a massive silver phallus thrusting from its centre, each vibrating vigourously. Each bride carefully lifts her skirts over the sybian, and kneels down so that the tip of the phallus breaches her pussy lips; this stimulation causes her warm juices to drip onto the cold silver shaft oscillating between her thighs. Her breath becomes uneven as her excitement builds, and finally she bears down on the phallus. It slides up inside her and she shrieks in pain as her tender hymen is brutally impaled. But the pain quickly subsides, and she takes the full length of the phallus into her voracious cunt, her pussy spasming with pleasure, her body rocked by uncontrollable shudders. She begins to moan as she rhythmically fucks the sybian.
As the ecstasy of the brides builds, ten knightesses chosen to perform the sacrifice mount the parapet and stand in front of the kneeling brides. The knightesses are already dripping from the sight and sound of the brides, but they begin to satisfy their longing by thrusting three fingers of their massive gloves into their trembling cunts. The knightesses work quickly, each bringing themselves off multiple times, at first so gently that their juices slide down their thighs into the tops of their boots, but eventually so explosively that their fluids squirt down the outer shafts of their boots. But this is more than the virgin brides can bear, and they begin to orgasm as well.
When she sees her bride cumming, each knightess draws her sword, pushes the bride off the sybian, and sinks the weapon deep into the bride's cunt. The bride begins to convulse violently, her eyes roll back into her head, and she cries out in an orgasmic deathscream that can be heard by everyone. The knightess twists the blade in deeper and looks into the contorted face of her dying sister, glorying in the translucent cum and dark blood is flowing from the cunt of the shuddering bride, soaking the shining white satin skirt of the wedding gown. Finally, the knightess turns her attention to her own clit and, as she starts cumming she steps over the still moaning bride and throws herself from the parapet onto the field of set javelins below. One of the javelins mercifully finds its target - the alluring cunt of the magnificent knightess, She cums explosively as the javelin is driven up inside her and bursts through her breasts. Ten brides remain lying on the parapet with silver swords buried in their cunts to the hilt. Ten knightesses remain impaled on javelins in the courtyard, their gloves and boots still shuddering with the force of their orgasms, gripping with their massive gloves the merciless shafts.
Last edited:
) and early example, the imagination and command of language exhibited suggests, in my humble opinion 
