swashbuckling knight

(Preface)

It was a stormy night. Thick tong clouds converged on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a storm before dawn. From time to time, lightning illuminated the overcast sky, reflecting the tall buildings of the castle, a massive stone tower surrounded by a thick wall. The castle looked so impregnable that no enemy, no hostile force, could do anything about it. This was Castle Camelot.

The raging night wind tore at the stone walls outside the hall and whistled against the windows. Snowflakes drifted down, swirling through the icy air like vain and violent dancers. In the hall, King Arthur sat around the great round table with his eight favorite knights. They looked anxious because Merlin, the wizard, had disappeared. He was King Arthur’s guardian and the magical defender of the kingdom. It had been weeks since he had left Castle Camelot and no one knew where he had gone. Only his charms, whose magic is growing weaker and weaker, are warning everyone that he is in danger.

The magical barrier he had put around the castle was growing weaker by the day. Castle Camelot would soon be completely unprotected and thus exposed to the sorcery of the evil wizards of the enemy.

Wherever Merlin was at the moment, his life must have been at stake, and he had to be rescued.

“Holy knights of the great round table, I command you to keep your eyes and ears open and pay attention to do as I say. For this night you will learn the shocking truth, the rot and filth that lurks in the depths of your hearts.”

The voice came through the mist like a cold flame at once fiery and voluptuous, yet with a chill of eternal allure. The knights looked around, but saw nothing but the swaying shadows on the cold stone walls and the restless horses on the woven rugs behind the raised platform where Arthur’s crown was placed.

Finally, they saw it. A shadow, darker than its surroundings and at first seemingly invisible, slowly transformed into a tall female figure as they watched. She was heavily veiled, her naked body sloped only in a black velvet cloak glittering with gold and silver stars.

“Stand still!” King Arthur called out, leaping to his side to construct his trusty Excalibur of Excaribe. “Who is there? What evil have you brought?”

The woman turned to face King Arthur, raised her arm, and said in the same cold, seductive voice, “Sit down, you can’t hurt me at all.”

King Arthur instantly felt a great force firmly grip his shoulders, forcing him to sit back down. His knights squirmed in their seats, struggling to get up and reach for their swords as well, ultimately finding themselves powerless to defend themselves. They could only stare helplessly at the gorgeous carcass in front of them, longing to touch and see more of those ample breasts, those firm brown nipples. And those smooth and powerful thighs, enough to make any man’s soul fly out of his body. Even the holy Knights of the Round Table were no exception.

“Struggling is futile. You are already under my control. Your wizard Merlin cannot protect you anymore.”

“What do you mean? You know where Merlin went? What evil magic did you cast on him?”

King Arthur asked in a loud voice.

“Look into the crystal ball and you’ll see.”

The veiled woman placed a large crystal ball in the center of the table. He shook his hands with rattles on the crystal ball a few times and whispered an incantation under his breath. It was as if King Arthur and his knights felt a wisp of cloud swirling around in the depths of the crystal ball, which in turn gradually separated into two naked human figures frolicking on a pile of furs. The naked woman was veiled and naked, and she sat with her legs apart on top of the naked man, whose robust manhood was hidden inside her. The woman rode the man excitedly, and the man screamed with pleasure. The knights gazed into the crystal ball, only to see the man’s face become clearer and clearer, and everyone realized that it was a face that spoke of middle-aged man’s robustness and majesty, the same face that Merlin had before he left them.

As he watched, the scene changed in the crystal ball. The man was now on top of the woman, licking her body, two fingers probing her pussy. His face seemed to have aged and his hair had turned gray.

The scene is constantly changing. With each change, Merlin appears older, and his vigor continues to be lost. Eventually, he seemed to become an ugly old man who could only lie under his lover and let her suck him to orgasm.

“Damn witch, what the hell have you done? What the hell did you do to Merlin?” Galahad screamed.

“It’s a trick,” King Arthur warned, “she’s showing this to us to upset us, nothing more, beware of women’s deceptive tricks.”

“It was no trick,” replied the veiled woman; “if you do not believe in what you have just seen, you should always believe in what is before your eyes, should you not?”

She turned to face the hall door and raised her arm. Her fingertips flashed two crossed lights. The door opened with them. Snow and wind rushed into the hall. In the midst of the blizzard, a short figure with a bowed back, leaning on a cane, appeared in the doorway, not much bigger than a shriveled parcel.

“Merlin!” King Arthur called out under his breath, barely recognizing his guardian.

The shriveled old man shuffled his feet into the hall as he lifted those eyes full of eye fluid to look at the veiled witch. His voice was raspy and frail, “What is it that I am asked to do for you, my queen?”

“Stand before the king.”

The old man dragged his feet and moved to the place where King Arthur was born.

“Is it Merlin?”

“Touch it and you’ll know it’s indeed him,” the witch pontificated.

King Arthur did as he was told. He knew it was really the Merlin Wizard, but he had become so unrecognizable, so aged. He was panting hoarsely and could hardly stand. The sorceress motioned for him to sit down, and he sat gratefully on the steps leading to the throne, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

“Darling, I did what you said,” he gasped, “Now suck on my manhood, it wants you so badly.”

“In a moment. First tell the king how you got this way.”

“This marvelous witch conquered me. She seduced me and became my lover. Now she has control over my desires and I am all but surrendered. Every time she satisfied herself in me, I became a little weaker. My strength was exhausted. Yet, as soon as she kissed my dick and let me swim in her warm, moisturized paradise I couldn’t resist.” The king was shocked, “Is there no way to save you? Is there no way to bring you back to me and restore your strength?”

“There is only one way,” replied the witch, “I am tired of him. He is too drained to raise my spirits, and I would have someone to take his place. Your knight may volunteer to be my lover. But take care that you do not offer yourself rashly, for you have seen the result of my hungry love, and whoever comes to my bed shall not be seen again in these palaces; I shall drain his energy and vitality.”

“I volunteer!” Sir Kay called out.

“I do too!” The shouts of volunteers echoed through the hall.

“Be patient!” The witch whispered, “Haha, so willing to die in my arms. But there is one more condition, it has to be chosen by myself, and my way of choosing is very special. I ask you all to do this one thing below. Each of you must tell the story of your best sexual experience. In this way, I will learn who is most worthy of being my lover. The poor wizard can then return to you. Start now, be quick, time is limited, and see, he is aging.”

“Me first!” Lancelot exclaimed, “I am honored to give my life for my dear King and Castle Camelot. I will tell how I conquered the beautiful Elena and saved her from a fierce dragon. Tell me how she tried to give herself to me with gratitude as a parting gift.” He secretly calculates: no problem, I’m the only one who knows the truth, a little harmless lie will turn the story of my seduction into a grand praise of this gratifying experience. Who else would understand the truth but me?

He could not have anticipated what perilous luck would befall him just as he was about to open his mouth to lie.

“Excellent, Sir Lancelot: you may begin to speak. But first let me put my hand on your shoulder you will perceive that my touch will inspire you.”

The witch’s hand was gently placed on Sir Lancelot’s shoulder, and at once, Lancelot felt a tremendous force penetrate his body, like a bolt of lightning striking his flesh in pursuit of the messenger into the earth. The witch’s soft, sensual rouge body pressed against his back, and his prick then stood up as straight as a mast. But it was only when he opened his mouth to speak that he realized how powerful the hand resting on his shoulder was, its power racing through him. He couldn’t lie, he could only tell the truth as it was.

(i)

The story of Sir Lancelot and Lady Elena.

I terrified the maids in my mother’s house when I was born. As soon as I was born, my manhood was incredibly large.

When my poor mother saw it, she could not help crying, saying that I would never in my life find a woman of noble birth as a wife, and that they would not give up their virginity to my gigantic meat-arrow.

But my father and his warriors scoffed at these foolish fears and swore that any woman, whore or noblewoman, could be conquered if I wanted them.

Gosh! As I got older, I came to realize that my mother’s fears might not be unjustified. I grew up with two cousins who had been orphaned and placed under my father’s guardianship, and I became increasingly close to them. One summer day when I was sixteen, we played a more transgressive game in my father’s cherry orchard.

Argiveth was seventeen and her sister Olavi was sixteen. Though of noble birth, my father gave them an open education.

He knew that it was impossible to climb into a good marriage without a dowry, and so, to escape the expense, he secretly hoped that whichever of them might conceive a child with some honest farmer and become the farmer’s wife, so that the father himself would not have to pay out of his own pocket.

I knew that the two sisters were no longer virgins, as they often bragged about their experiences in front of me. I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the idea of having sex with them, and at the moment I was sick of my own virginity.

It was a hot summer afternoon when we were resting under a tree after picking cherries in the orchard. Our hands and mouths were covered with the nectar of the cherries because we had craved them while working.

The sharecroppers had gone back to fetch bread, cheese and light beer. They thought we were all sleepy and left us alone in the orchard to doze off. When we realized we were alone, our eyes opened wide and we laughed and played innocent games. As we played and fooled around, we grew bolder, and the banter became less innocent and a bit raunchy.

“Look!”

Argiveth purred, wrenching her sister forward and lifting her skirt, “Here are two more watery peaches I forgot to pick!” She nibbled gently on her sister’s bare buttocks.

The sight made me so horny that I lest my face burn as the young, energetic job reared its head between my legs as if begging me to let it out and show its passion.

Finally, Olavi laughed so hard she could barely breathe before she broke away from her sister, her blonde hair falling loose over her snow-white shoulders.

“Mumble, where are your two big pears?” She asked as she undid Argiveth’s tight girth and pulled out a pair of king tits.

Although Algévez was still young, she already had a pair of very full breasts, like two ripe, mouth-watering peaches.

“No one wants to try these two incredibly delicious peaches? Then I’ll taste them myself!”

Olavi began to suck on her sister’s ample breasts, her fingers caressing the left nipple while her greedy mouth sucked on the right.

I noticed that Algévez’s breathing had become rapid and her feet were drifting apart as if trying to clear the way for something to come. And at the moment my disenfranchised manhood was desperately trying to break through the pants barrier, with only my extra-long tight pants to hide it from the dead eyes of my two sisters. But how could it hide?

“Hey, little Lancelot, isn’t there anything you can do to draw us in and fascinate us?”

Algernon asked, not hiding anything, and sat down across from me, spreading her legs, her skirt rolled up to her knees as she climbed the tree to pick the fruit: this allowed me to feast on all that Algernon had so generously revealed as a fabulous pool of color in the wet black triangle of her stunning inner thighs.

“What do you want me to show you?”

I answered back with a dry mouth and a small amount of misgivings – I had never shown any woman my job since I could dress myself.

“I don’t have any watery pears, and my peaches aren’t much to move around.”

“Brother, we want to see the long, sap-filled branch that reaches between your legs,” replied Olavi.

Before I had time to react, the two girls jumped on me and ripped off my wool leggings, exposing my pussy completely to the midday sun.

After a terrible silence, the two girls sobbed silently after a scream.

“What’s bothering you guys?”

I asked this with my mouth but in my mind I immediately realized why they were crying and screaming.

“Never… never seen one so big and thick!”

Arjowise cried out, “I swear there was no way I could let that thing inside me, it would have torn my pink pussy door apart ripe as a fig, a wound like that can never be healed.”

“My sister speaks the truth,” echoed Olavi, “dear Lancelot, listen to me, no noblewoman can bear that thing between your thighs. Our mother told us when we were children that noblewomen have delicate, tiny body parts, and one as big as yours would surely tear our delicate flesh.”

In extreme disappointment, I stared down at my job and chewed on its highly abnormal lump. Why did I have to suffer such monstrous pain? Alas, I may never find a woman willing to accept it. At once, I was in despair.

Fortunately, the sisters were sympathetic enough not to leave me alone, leaving that unsatisfied manhood to suffer. They had another way, they had me lie on my side, with Argives kneeling in front of me and Olavi behind me, and then they began to stroke me passionately, and I immediately let out a moan of pleasure.

Algévez ran her hands over my spear, rubbing it vigorously back and forth, her own bare breasts dancing like wasps and butterflies on the breasts. I played with them, rubbing my fingers over the nipples and sucking on them like a helpless baby.

At the same time, one of Olavi’s hands plunged in from the rear and began to search boldly in the forbidden area of testicles and anus. Her pointed forefinger suddenly reached into that forbidden back door, and my face instantly flushed red and I couldn’t help but scream out in excitement, my whole body trembling with it. With a satisfying call, I shot my cum onto Arjowise’s hand and breasts.

Then the three of us lay on the floor in a tight embrace.

For a long time, we stroked and laughed softly and spent the time stealing the forbidden fruit – until the two girls leapt up and said they wanted to perform for me how a woman satisfies herself.

How marvelous! They spread their legs and pressed their fingers to their clits, digging back and forth, one hand indulging in rubbing their already hard nipples even harder.

But how I wish they’d let me have that job inside them! For I have long looked forward to losing my virginity in a woman’s lubricated hole.

A week later, my father’s female cook called out to me as I was passing the barn. She was there gathering eggs for dinner.

“Hello, young sir,” she smiled.

I couldn’t help but think: how beautiful her lips, her breasts, hips and thighs were.

“Hello Freya!”

I replied, embarrassed to realize that my job had swelled up, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m picking eggs, sir,” she replied, “but you know the work is tedious.

I can’t help but wonder if I wouldn’t prefer to go into the hay with you and play somersaults.”

Her bluntness took me by surprise, but I wasn’t scared at all. If anything, it was that my job swelled even bigger when I heard her say such nasty things.

But a pang of sadness pierced my beating heart: yes, once she saw the size of my thing, she would never do that with me.

I dismounted anyway, tied my horse to one side of the barn, and followed Freya into the cold, dark barn. The only sound in there was the squawking of chickens scurrying about on the haystacks, dirty and smelly with the stench of chicken poop, which I didn’t really care about, maybe in this dim place it would be too late by the time she realized I was too big for that job.

As soon as we entered the barn, Freya turned her back to me and asked me to help her undress. I shuddered as I went to undo the rough tunic she was wearing, and had a hard time getting the straps off. She shrugged my unskilled hands away and pulled the tunic, and the linen shirt, down below her hips herself, then left the clothes on the barn floor and turned toward me. She smiled at me, the straight, honest smile of a country girl, an expression that was straight to the point of offering.

Since Freya was willing to let me do as I wished, I hastily pulled off my clothes in front of her. However, deep in the back of my mind there was still an innate worry, one that had become stronger due to my most recent experience with both of the Argiveth sisters.

I had managed to remove my short tunic, shirt and riding boots, leaving only a pair of leggings undone, and I was already guessing what kind of consternation, excuses, refusals and even escapes the young woman would have. But I felt that there was no stopping now, my live brother was as alive as the heart of a giant beast, and I knew in my heart that I had to have this girl. I also knew that it wasn’t too dark in the barn and that nothing I did would escape Freya’s shrewd eyes. She would see the scenery of my job, and what would be her reaction? I’d just have to wait and see.

I was surprised to hear Freya’s cry of joy as my huge prick slowly emerged, “Oh my God! You’ve got a great tool!”

She screamed and fell to her knees, kissing it reverently, “It’s marvelous! I’ve never seen one so big.

Those fine noble ladies will be torn in two by this spear.”

“But… what about you?” I asked sharply, “Aren’t you afraid to sleep with me? Aren’t you afraid of being torn in half by me?”

Freya smiled sweetly, shook her head and said: “Lowly born girls, whether milkers or whores, are trained in the grass and hay for a long time, and as soon as they learn to suck on that prick, they will be very old at it. But, I believe, the noble ladies of noble birth fear the big ones, and only dare to ask for the small ones, because they are easy to get in and out of. Poor ladies are deceived, they don’t know what a pleasure it is to be stuffed and filled with love juice. They’re afraid your big prick will hurt them. They are right, I suppose, they are born so delicate and fragile, and their lower lips are as tightly closed as their little cherry mouths.”

She pulled my head down and kissed me, and I felt her soft, sensual mouth and secretly wished her pussy down there was so plump. I had finally found a woman who wanted me with pleasure, not fear.

Freya laughed and lay on her back on the haystack, pulling me towards her as I leapt down onto her in excitement.

I was young, and my job was too sexually charged to make any more moves, and I dove headfirst into her tantalizing, wet pussy.

Freya encouraged me excitedly, and my implement barely pushed in, and it was such a pleasure to be tightened. I pounded hard and she met me. I was giving her pleasure!

I had thought I would never be able to experience this kind of pleasure for eternity, and after a sharp burst of pumping, I gave out.

I knew that I was still young enough to launch another attack on her pussy door after only a moment’s rest.

This time, with one hand between her thighs and the other kneading her soft breasts, I brought her to orgasm, her nails flaming into my back as I ejaculated for the second time.

From that day on I vowed never to sleep with any lady or noblewoman again; I could not bear the indignity of their rejecting me. I vowed to make love only to women of lowly birth, women who had tasted the phallus of many men and who would welcome the passionate, violent thrusts of my huge weapon, but I did not seriously think of a scheme to deal with Madame Elena.

One day, just ten years after Freya had made a man of me, I had the honor of spending a few days cooped up at Aidenthorpe Manor. In this northern land, the king rose down to just subjugate the lawless populace to his laws.

Aidenthorpe was a gift from the king to Sir Bors, the king’s most trusted knight, and his wife, Lady Elena, a beauty known throughout the kingdom.

But I have not come on this journey to admire the beauty of Madame Elena, and I have sworn not to associate with any woman of high birth.

On the first evening I joined my companions at Sir Bors’s table for the delicacies of swan and wild boar, while the Lady Elena and her ladies-in-waiting dined in the attic, which, being out of sight of the rude warriors, was more suitable for them.

I had only glanced at this beautiful lady, and her jealous husband had ordered her to wear a veil in order to keep her out of the sight of greed. At this moment, I still deeply regret it.

The days at Aidenthorpe were enjoyable, except for one thing that didn’t quite work out.

Sir Bose is a stickler for morality, believing that fornication is the first of all evils, and he does not hesitate to kill anyone on his estate who engages in misbehavior.

And as I am a man with an exuberant lust that must be constantly satisfied, I do not wish to insult any lady or respectable dame, I just want to sleep with a milkmaid, or a lowly woman who cleans the kitchen floors, or even one of those transient prostitutes who wander from village to village exchanging flesh for food and lodging.

But there were no such women in the land under the jurisdiction of the noble Sir Bose, and I began to think that if I was not smothered, I must collapse for want of vent.

However, on the third night, I received a puzzling little note that read: “Sir Lancelot, I want to tell you that my husband and I are not of the same mind, and I believe that the virtues of knighthood should be extolled, and that chivalry should be rewarded, not suppressed. I know you are the finest knight in the kingdom of Camelot. If you will do me the honor of coming to my chambers at three minutes to midnight, you will receive a warm welcome from me.”

I knew that Mrs. Elena had taken a great risk in sending me these notes, and it was with great regret that I replied: “Mrs. Elenore: I am deeply grateful for your invitation, but I cannot accept your kind offer. If you ask around, you will easily find that I only seek the company of women of humble origins and prostitutes.

I would never dishonor a noble lady like you. Your most loyal servant. Lancelot.”

I sent the note back to Madame Elena by the maid who brought the letter; the maid was plain-looking, but I would have hated to share her joys with her, if only she had been willing to give them to me.

Her appearance of hurrying away reminded me of how carefully and thoroughly the venerable Sir Bose had instructed all his maids to put an end to carnal desires. I began to regret my refusal of Lady Elena, though I knew well enough in my heart that for the sake of my pride alone I could not break my oath.

It was not finished, however. That evening, another note arrived from Madame Elena. This time, in order to solve my dilemma, Madame proposed a more acceptable solution.

“My dear Sir Lancelot: I have inquired about you, and I fully understand your difficulties. Therefore, I take no offense at your refusal. However, I would be honored if the best knight in the kingdom would allow me to express my admiration in another, easily accepted way. If you will come to my private prayer tonight, you will find four maids waiting for you. They will, I am sure, fulfill any request you may have. Their only condition is that they wish to wear masks so that their Sir Bors will never find out that they have done something against his will. Please let the girl who sent the letter to you bring a message back that you can trust her absolutely.”

I thought hard about the implications of this strip. What if I walked into a trap set by a jealous Sir Bors to find out if I was a pure knight in the flesh? Lady Elena wouldn’t be so reckless and foolish as to write me such a note, would she?

However, knowing that I couldn’t refuse, I scribbled on the back of the note I sent, “I’ll be there.”

I excused myself as too tired, said good night, and went to bed early, but I neither undressed nor slept, lest I should miss my appointment.

Near midnight I got up and felt my way down the back steps of the house to the hall, walking past the servants sleeping on the hall futon. I was relieved that no one woke up except for a dog who raised his head and gave a low grunt. Once safely through the hall, I gingerly slipped behind the curtains blocking the attic and passed through an empty room to the aisle leading to Lady Elena’s private prayer room. I carefully pulled the large door open so as not to make a noise.

At first glance, the house was empty, with only a few candles burning by the altar to honor the knights who had given their lives in the recent battle.

My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and it was then that I realized there were several shadows moving about. In fact, it wasn’t so much shadows as it was naked women. They came out of the darkness and went to the door to greet me. I hurriedly slipped inside and closed the door behind me.

The women stood right in front of me, and I could see that they were indeed wearing masks. I counted five, not four as Mrs. Elena had said.

I’m so thankful for my lucky star, my protector who brings me good luck.

Two of the men in the room were blonde, one had light black hair, one had red hair, and one girl had waist-length hair in a dark, shiny braid. The girls were all young and shapely, and I couldn’t help but begin to swell in my lower body.

“Hello, Sir Lancelot,” the light-black-haired girl whispered.

Looking at her slender, well-proportioned body and listening to her soft country girl’s thick throaty voice, my dick became restless in my pants.

“We have been summoned by Mistress Elena and are here at your disposal.”

“What do you need, Master?” A blonde girl asked.

She loosened her hair and let it fall like waves over her bare shoulders. She spoke in a soft but normal voice, sounding like a long-suffering whore who looked like she didn’t care about what she was doing.

I was speechless for a moment.

Most of the wonderful bodies that I was able to choose and use to satisfy my lust, they were honest and good servants who wouldn’t let my dick go to waste.

A wave of gratitude surged through me that Mrs. Elena had given me such a great favor without thinking whether she herself would be benefited.

The thought sobered me up. Since Elena had been so generous to me, I had to fully enjoy the gift she had given me to be worthy of her.

I turned to face the redheaded girl and stroked her chestnut curls.

“What I want is for you to undress me. And, while you undress me, I want to let my fingers and tongue roam all over you.”

“Your wish is my need,” the girl could be heard smiling.

The thought of the joy of two lovers made my dick restless in my pants again.

I sat down in a carved oak chair as the redhead began to undo my tight top.

There were two rows of buttons on the front of the blouse, all made of the more precious stones, such as lupulin, jasper, marcasite, amethyst, etc., which glowed brightly against the embroidered velvet corset, and were a sight to behold.

The girl slowly and carefully pulled back my lapel and I faded my arms out of my sleeves.

My fingers immediately began to reciprocate the girl’s bold behavior, groping for the hidden places, fondling and pawing to my heart’s content. The girl bent over to fumble with the straps on my shirt, and my hands couldn’t help but fall to those small, firm breasts, a pair of rose-colored nipples waiting expectantly for someone to suck on them.

I thought about the breasts in my hands, only to realize that they were very firm and surprisingly heavy. I pulled the girl to me again and moved my mouth over to take one nipple, licking it, sucking it, and biting it gently. My teeth just touched her soft skin and she screamed in pain at the shock.

After the false alarm, the warmth spread through her, evoking a reaction in her lower body. She moaned lowly while tugging harder and more furiously at the straps on my shirt, which finally loosened, and I reluctantly lifted my head to let her help me out of my shirt.

She threw herself headlong over my naked body, kissing me and admiring my strong arms and broad chest.

At the same time, I slid my hand between her thighs and lifted it upward, the edge of my palm tucked right into the deep, hidden groove, which was already floating.

She was indeed the best of whores, a woman at the peak of her ability to take great pleasure in bed.

My hand stroked her gash with abandon, and the girl’s hands moved from my breasts to my waist, reaching for the drawstring of my black silk leggings.

In this dimly lit prayer room of a few miles of candlelight, she too must have sensed the size of my prick, which was at the moment doing its best to break out of its cage.

It was very satisfying to see her still eager to take off my clothes.

In an effort to get her to undress quickly, I began stroking her private parts vigorously. I wrenched her thighs apart with my hands so that she stood in front of me with her legs spread and her breasts hanging down, clearly a slut who was both 100% submissive and very eager to initiate.

Then I explored her wet gully, and before long my fingers were lost in two holes, one very tight and dry, the other capable of unlimited expansion, wet as a great river.

The girl burst into ecstasy when I dug my thumb into her lake and my index finger into her dry well. With a show of ferocity, I used the index finger of my right hand to feel around the moist hole. I let out a cry of joy when I came across what I was looking for, a thick bud of flesh, larger than I had ever touched before. The flesh bud was oscillating and undulating with the pulse of sexualized desire.

She was so horny that she frantically addressed tugging at my tights, but I was adamant that I didn’t want to do her any favors – in fact, my hands had long since acquired their place elsewhere. I rubbed her clit while pumping it with my forefinger and thumb, sending her into a flutter.

“En, Si, my princes and lords! My lord!” She screamed, “I’ll do anything! Willing for everything!

I’m going to tongue your ass and ride me all you want, just make me throw! Make me throw it!”

It was at this moment that she finally freed my dick. She pulled down my pants and my prick jerked forward like a victor, smugly displayed for all to see.

Instead of the cries of fear that I had become accustomed to, I heard the moans of lust from the women who had gathered around me. They were all vying to be the first to get a taste of my giant manhood.

But I wasn’t done with the redhead yet, and she cried out even more in ecstasy at the sight of my dick.

I increased the rhythm of my finger pumping and put just the right amount of pressure on her clit. Then I found the pleasure rushing around her like a wave. I removed my hands and she crumpled to the floor, gasping for air, almost fainting.

The scent of her love juice on my fingers drove me madder and madder at the masked women before me. Like fallen nuns, they surrounded me in the darkness of the prayer room with religious fervor.

They were enamored of my dick like worshipping idols, and they got down on both knees and scrambled to treat it with tender kisses and hot caresses.

“Ladies, don’t worry!” I shouted, “My bedside manner is as big as my prick, and I have enough cum to fill your mouths and your holes. I’ll bet it will never be me who tires before the dawn comes.”

After hearing my words, the women let go.

What I say is true: I have the power to match my huge manhood and the huge eggs on either side of it.

Often I could tire out half a dozen prostitutes before midnight, and then masturbate twice more before I could disabuse my mind of the unclean thoughts and get myself into bed in a daze.

As if to confirm my words, I instantly grabbed that dick and moved it in front of the women.

I hadn’t been near a woman in a long time, and I was already on the verge of holding it in when I frolicked with my redheaded aunt a while ago, so it wouldn’t take more than a few moments. In order to get the full pleasure, I rubbed the thing while kneeling on top of the still prone redhead.

As I neared my climax, I screamed out in pleasure and was thrilled to see the sticky white cum jetting onto her face and breasts.

I felt my dick getting harder and hungrier just after I ejaculated. So, I thought about finding another partner to satisfy it again.

It occurred to me that it would be marvelous and delightful to have the girls lick the cum that I had sprayed all over the redhead, so I commanded, “Get on your knees, I want to see you lick up all my cum. Get down on your knees like sluts!”

The girls were more than happy to get down on their knees and lick the big piles of cum from the redhead’s naked body.

They were both wearing masks, but I could tell from their sharp gasps that they were aroused and excited by my command. For my part, I took the opportunity to survey their bodies more closely.

Once again, my dick was sticking up about a foot, twitching and jiggling, eager to burrow into one of the love-slick holes that lay in front of me.

“Ah! Take me! Take me!”

The girls purred, their asses coming towards me so that their tenderness could be better offered to me. Only the brunette didn’t say a word, as if she was worried that if she opened her mouth, people would be able to tell who it was.

But I was too driven by intense desire to think about it at the moment. On the contrary, the brunette’s silence and elegant demeanor aroused my endless desire even more. I secretly resolved to save her for the last enjoyment, so that she could get my richest gift.

The light black haired girl was the second person I had chosen to go to Wonderland with, and I made up my mind to surprise her. After peeling back her twat, I didn’t point my weapon at her pussy, but at her brown, wrinkled anus. I ignored her cries of fear, and after wetting her anus with her own lewdness, I pushed in at once, not even bothering to think about the discomfort this would cause her.

Poor girl, her anus was stuffed tight and I still managed to get in.

It was worth the trouble, the inside of her anus was like a velvet glove, tightening around my hot, throbbing manhood.

My pleasure was quickly transmitted to her, and she began to gasp with desire, her body catering back to me as if she longed for my fleshy arrows to ram their way inward again. When I felt that I was about to lose it, I rubbed her clit with my fingers and Fang gave out.

We both then collapsed into a heap, palpitating and reeling from the incredible pleasure we were sharing. For the first time in my life, I was beginning to enjoy the pleasures of my oversized prick and my ability to fight for as long as I wanted.

I rolled over onto my back and waited for my prick to recover.

After lying down for a few moments, my prick was indeed as virile as before.

At that moment, I felt someone gently rubbing my thighs. When I opened my eyes, it was the two blonde girls kneeling beside me, probing me with their soft, smooth tongues. I let them continue while I myself lay on my side enjoying their caresses.

I felt an extreme pleasure as their tongues licked my testicles. Soon, my arousal was aroused again.

When I couldn’t resist, I ordered one of them to spread her legs and sit on my stomach facing my feet. My straight prick rubbed between her legs, but did not penetrate. Then I told the other blonde girl to sit on the first one. In this way, my huge prick was able to stimulate both of them at the same time, as well as giving myself great pleasure, especially since the girl sitting on top was able to rub my prick with her hand.

Our coupling was so exciting that we almost choked, and as they reached their climaxes, I shot my semen into their bellies, and together we fell head over heels into bliss.

I’ve been devoted to four, and now there’s only one woman left who hasn’t gotten the best of me – the brunette who seduced me with her silence.

I turned toward her and called her over, and she came on command.

As I kissed her breasts, I realized that their skin was whiter and softer than several of the other girls, and that her hands had neither calluses nor scars from her work. Perhaps I should have been suspicious, but I just assumed that she was a superior maid, perhaps even one Sir Bors had kept specially for his own enjoyment.

I thought to myself that, at any rate, I must enjoy her better, for to do so would be like stealing Sir Boz’s treasures.

Before I could even think for a second about what I was letting the ground do, she was on her knees in front of my legs, sucking extremely greedily on the top of my dick.

But I didn’t want to cum just like that, so I pushed her away with a little force, forcing her to lie on her back. Desperate to have her, I pressed the top of that shaft against her pussy. I was surprised to find that her pussy was that tight, tighter than any woman I had ever slept with. She gave a soft pause as I pushed that thing inside, obviously due to pain, but she gave no indication that she was in the least bit reluctant to let me enter her.

On the contrary, this tightness aroused my desire even more, and with a strong stroke, I pushed straight to the bottom and then pulled out, which caused her to scream out in pain.

However, she was wetter than any woman I’d ever slept with. And as much as I wanted her, she craved me.

Within moments of going in, her lust melted the pain and made my pumping easier.

I rode her hard, as I would my warhorse. And she eagerly pushed her hips up to echo my movements, sucking in every inch of my manhood.

We both reached an orgasm at the same time, and as I ejaculated, she screamed with excitement and held me tightly, as if she didn’t want to let any drop of precious semen slip through her tight, marvelous channel.

I had intercourse with her many more times that night. Each time I begged her to give me her name. But she wouldn’t open her mouth, just shook her head with a mournful look, at least to me.

At dawn, I parted company with five girls who had given me a night of pleasure with skillful and hot techniques. They left with their masks on and I went to my room by myself.

I wanted to thank Mrs. Elena, but her maids said she wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t see anyone.

The next day it was time for me to depart back to Camelot to report to the King.

As I rode up the road, a messenger came in haste to give me a letter, repeatedly urging me to open it a day after I had left Aytonthorpe.

I followed instructions and returned to Camelot before opening the letter.

The letter reads: “My dear Sir Lancelot: You do not want me if I am a noblewoman, so you will only want me if you make me a cousin. When I was baptized, it was foretold that I must have a son with the best knight in the land – one who would outshine his father and one day be more powerful than King Arthur. That’s why I tricked you into sleeping with me. Of course, that’s not the only reason, because I desire you more than all other men. Besides, it’s when I’m with you that I experience unparalleled pleasure. Don’t think too badly of me, because you are my bedmate, and you give me pleasure that no one else can give.

You brunette bitch.”

At first I was angry because I had been made a fool of and because I was so afraid of the child’s prophecy. However, I also experienced great joy from Mrs. Elena.

The experience itself was a comfort to me; if a woman of noble birth could have my dick inside her, what’s not to like about other women?

From then on, for the first time, I had thoughts of Mrs. Genevieve… (ii)

Sir Stampin

“It gets better and better!” The masked woman hissed.

Her pretty face was vaguely visible behind a sheer black veil. Her eyes were hidden by the black veil, vaguely revealing a hint of anger, and seemed to be excitedly issuing a challenge.

“My dear Sir Lancelot, what nobility is there in a knight who falls so easily into the trap of a yellow girl?”

Lancelot’s face flushed red to the neck hate all of a sudden, and his mind was in turmoil.

He had wanted to say something else entirely, a false tale of a dragon and a maiden’s gratitude to glorify himself.

But as he opened his mouth to tell the story, a great force swept over him like a spring tide, compelling him to confess the truth of his fears and failures under the cold eyes of his companions.

When he saw the others smiling and looking pitying, he wished there was a hole in the ground he could get into.

In a fit of rage, he leapt up to fetch his sword.

“Wicked witch, show your true colors!” He yelled, pressing one hand on the hilt of his sword, “Or take your life!”

He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, as if to raise it above his head, the better to slice the bloodthirsty blade at his tormentor.

But the tighter he gripped the hilt, the less he could lift it, and his sword was stuck tighter in its sheath than Excalibur was in the magic stone.

“Hold on tight, Sir Lancelot!” The masked demon woman laughed.

The high peaks of her breasts jiggled about as she scoffed loudly, looking so tantalizing.

She stood before him and tortured him to learn how to stab her with a sword.

“What’s the matter, sweet Sir Lancelot? Can’t you lift your own sword? How have you become as weak as a little girl? Can’t even resist the fragile white skin of a mere woman.”

As she pressed on, she stroked his manhood through his tight pants, feeling the huge contours with her red-painted, pointed fingernails, like a hungry beast teasing its prey for a moment before biting down, tugging, tearing, and then finally devouring the deliciously tender meat one bite at a time.

Lancelot struggled as much as he could to no avail, unable to move his hands. His right hand was gripping the hilt of his sword as if it were out of control, while his left hand hung frustratingly on the wooden table. His hands felt like lead, stiff and paralyzed, and he felt completely immobilized.

Humiliated by her magical, wicked touch, Lancelot felt his huge manhood begin to buck.

He lowered his head and watched it swell a little, bulging the front of his tight pants. Each torturous stroke made it bigger and harder.

The shame, the humiliation…

However, there was also pleasure, and the light moxa sand gave him extreme pleasure as well.

This strange woman stroked him like a minstrel plucking the strings of a psaltery – deft, skillful, and of immense magical power.

“Stop fiddling!”

He tried to scream out, but the words nagged at the back of his throat, and only a hoarse sound came out of his mouth.

In fact, he didn’t want her to stop. Rather, he hoped that she, like Elena, would take advantage of his inability to resist and continue to bestow this wonderful pleasure on him forever.

At this point, Lancelot wanted nothing more than for the masked siren to continue to gently rub his bulging manhood with her skillful fingers. He didn’t even have to beg her to remove his tight pants so that she could directly touch his fleshy arrow with her fingers. Just like that, he was already drifting away.

The pleasure of the coarse wool fabric sliding over his bare glans made him shudder. The sensation was so wonderful that it was almost painful. He had completely forgotten the stares of the people around him, the loss of his knightly honor. But he had no regard for any of that at the moment, and was intent on making this unrivaled bliss continue forever.

However, his dream did not come true.

“Good good Sir Lancelot, sit down!” The woman urged, her voice sweet and wicked.

“The night is still long. The moon has just risen and the revelry has only begun. There are still many stories to be told, many confessions to be heard.”

Then she raised her arm and pointed a ringed finger at Lancelot, whose limbs grew heavier and heavier, and who was finally and inexorably born back into his chair. His manhood remained stubbornly proud and straight, vaguely painful.

But he knew in his heart that his tormentor would not let him have that reverie again.

The sight of the witch pacing the cold stone floor, her nipple-hardened, high breasts jiggling up and down, occasionally peeking out from behind a cloak as black as midnight, and her snow-white thighs glistening, was a sight that alarmed everyone who watched her.

The dirt riders waited with anticipatory excitement to see what was going to happen.

She stopped abruptly and turned her back to the knights.

“I now summon the Knight of Gay Wayne.”

She shushed the words, the sound like rain that had frozen before it hit the ground.

The blood was curdling in Gavin’s body, what terrible fate awaited him? If he was asked to tell a lewd and nasty story about his past, perhaps all he had to do was make up a lie to avoid being humiliated?

Relieved, he stood up and said to the witch in a clear, confident voice, “What do you want me to do, Mystic Lady?”

The sorceress spoke with irony in her tone, “Sir Gaijanne, I think we are all tired of hearing the kind of story where Sir Lancelot turns out to have fallen for a woman’s trap, so I would like you to tell a story that is full of masculinity. You’re a marvelous knight, in great shape, and one never tires of looking at you. Perhaps you have a story to make everyone happier? Or maybe some kind of dishonorable dirty story?”

“Madam, I am a knight of honor. I am to speak of my bedfellows with women, but how can the honorable riding of the earth be dishonorable? You should know that loyal Knights of the Round Table would never degrade themselves to compromise a lady’s chastity.”

The witch stood behind him, her icy breath blowing chills down his spine.

It struck him as odd that the witch seemed to be able to see what was going on in his head. It was a feeling of stroking, digging, and gently dismantling every protective barrier he had put up.

His manhood jerked as a memory flashed through his mind; a virgin of the utmost beauty and purity, melting like ice under his enlightenment, and he was enlightening her in his own unique way… The sorceress was so close that he felt her naked body leaning against his back, the sorceress’s hands resting on his shoulders, her lips rubbing against his ear.

The witch spoke to him in a very soft voice that only he could hear. The voice echoed in his mind and he realized with horror that the witch’s magic could reveal his true nature. Tonight, his soul would be laid bare to his comrades.

“Speak, Sir Gayjane,” the voice was in his ear.

Fear and excitement were intertwined in his heart, and the candlelight seemed to glow much brighter.

“I command you to tell the story of Mrs. O’Mushroomer, and please don’t forget that you must tell the truth or perdition will follow.”

Gavin opened his mouth to say something random, not to mention what scared him, but as soon as the words reached his mouth, his throat felt choked, as if a pair of cold hands had jammed into his neck, as if to tell him that it would be as easy to take his life as if he were to break the neck of a wounded bird, as if he were to use his hands to force joy out of Mrs. O’Mushroomer’s body…

The unseen hands gradually relaxed as he began to tell the truth.

Fearing re-victimization, Sir Guy Jahn told his hidden story from the ground.

The Story of Sir Guy Wayne and His Nunnery Lady

Orod. Located far from Castle Camelot and on the border with Wales, Fort Dura is a wilderness, a terrible land where only warriors of great martial skill can survive.

Unregulated people roam the deserted borderlands. There are no laws here. The sword speaks for itself.

Mrs. O’Mushroomer was brought to this murderous land. She was a pale self-colored, icy virgin of the North, a princess of Scandinavia, with blonde hair and flawless skin that any lesser prince would have regarded as a treasure.

She was sold as a wife to Sir Besilak, who had just been made Lord of Orod. Lord of Durra, my lord and king’s bannerman.

However, O’Mushroomer is by no means a weak woman; she is an ice beauty with a heart of cold flame.

To have been the daughter of a king, and to be married to a young knight who possessed only a poor, desolate, and wild country domain, was to her nothing short of scandalous. So she was unfazed by the knight and secretly resolved to give him nothing but what she must do for him.

Thus, Mrs. O’Mushroomer, though she had been married to her young, impetuous husband for three months, was still a virgin. Until I came to the castle, she was a virgin who had rejected desire and had a heart of stone – at least, that was the impression at first sight.

My master, King Arthur, appointed me general to go to Orod Durra to inspect the lands and fortresses of the newly arrived lord Besirak. Durra to inspect the lands and fortresses of the newly arrived lord Besirak, and it took me and four of my men several days on horseback to arrive.

We were ambushed several times on the way, and after several fierce battles, we arrived at Orod K. Dura at dusk on the tenth day. Dura, exhausted. However, my spirits were lifted when I saw the beautiful Aubergine Mushroom.

She was tall and slim, with blue eyes and long, thick, pale yellow hair tied back in a long braid that hung downward from her shoulders along the tantalizing curves outlined by the tight girth of her breasts.

I could not help wanting this woman at once, and yet, for the sake of my own and the woman’s honor, I did my best to restrain the thought. I just couldn’t forget her look of indifference, which aroused my desire even more. The idea of putting a fire in the cold belly of this lovely girl fascinated me, but I feared that I would not be able to fulfill my wish.

When I woke up, I was able to regain my strength, and I began to do the official work that my master had entrusted to me.

The first day was spent in a laborious inspection of Sir Bessilac’s dominions and castles, and it was not until the evening that he saw Mrs. O’Mushroomer.

She appeared at the head of the dinner table like a fairy out of the world. Madame didn’t seem the least bit interested in me, but her indifference only heightened my arousal.

I, of course, knew nothing about this virgin wife and assumed that her aloof attitude was due to her extreme loyalty to her own husband.

She piqued my interest, and were it not for the honor of a knight and his prestige among his comrades, I would have pursued her that night without hesitation.

At the end of the meal, her husband, Sir Bessilak, took me aside and told me about his unhappy marriage.

I find it hard to believe that a man as young, powerful, and vigorous as he was could have endured such cold treatment from his bride without coercing her by force to get what he wanted.

“God, I can’t do this?”

He replied, “I was born not wanting to be rough with women. I want her to go to bed with me of her own free will. If she is forced to do so, I have no pleasure.”

“So, my lord, what do you do?”

I said to him, “Are you willing to be a bachelor all your life, living in this land of violence and darkness with a beautiful virgin bride? Any man could snatch her away from you at any time.”

“Sir Gay Wayne, I have heard of your many conquests; are you not a warm-hearted man?”

I was at a loss for words, and it was true that I feared in my heart that my reputation as a respected and valiant knight would be tarnished, and yet it was also true that I thought of the woman in my heart.

I think it’s pretty obvious what his intentions are with this conversation.

Finally, I replied, “I am a warm-hearted man and a decent one too.”

“Then, good Sir Gay Wayne, will you do me the honor of cheering me up and bringing me closer to King Camegate with a heartfelt sense of duty out of gratitude?”

I could not refuse him then, or what I did would be detrimental to my master, King Arthur.

“As long as I can do it, and without tarnishing my honor, Count Bessilak earth, I will indeed do anything for you.”

“I beseech you, then, to use all the power of your will to influence my wife, O’Mushroomer, to make her voluntarily my actual and complete wife.”

I fully understood that he was trying to keep my influence from going beyond persuasion and harmless flirtation, but I had a vague feeling that the dark depths of my mind were calculating that, once I could be alone with Mrs. O’Mushroomer, the desire to control the woman would overwhelm my sanity and lead to excesses and indiscretions.

I politely bade my preoccupied host good-night, and asked him to leave the cares of his heart behind, promising to do all I could to persuade his frosty wife to dissolve in his arms like honey.

But I was thinking: she has to dissolve in my arms first.

I hadn’t slept well all night, plagued by lewd thoughts and the appearance in my dreams of my master’s beautiful wife.

I imagined her standing in front of me, completely obedient to me, begging me for mercy, while I showed her no mercy, I raised my hand to beat her, and she cried out, begging me in pitiful tones: “No, no more!” But when the fist fell on her naked buttocks, which were high in the air, she screamed out again, and begged with pleasure: “More, more, my only master, hit me again, hit me again!”

The white naked body in my head obediently did my bidding, her ass gradually turning scarlet under fist after fist of ringing, to the point where my meaty arrow hardened and I began to stroke it with my hand, a moan of pleasure escaping my lips.

In my greedy palms, my manhood strained tighter and tighter.

As the pearly white liquid spurted out, I almost thought I’d shot up O’Shroomer’s rose-colored ass, and thus gave a long grunt of pleasure.

The next morning I found that Sir Bessilac had gone early in the morning to a neighboring estate: it would be three days before he could return, and he had left word that, during his absence, everything on the estate–including his cold-hearted but beautiful wife–would be in my hands. I’m in control.

Obviously unhappy with this arrangement O’Mushroomer ignored me except for the fact that her manners were not lacking.

At breakfast, she sat at the table and glared at me with eyes that made no secret of her displeasure.

Finally, I resolved to force her to talk to me.

“Mrs. O’Mushroomer, what would you like to do for pleasure on such a fine day? You should know that your husband, Sir Bessilak, has ordered me to make you very happy.”

She still sat there, both eyes glaring angrily at me, and the gaze shot from those cold blue eyes made me tremble, and my determination to conquer her strengthened.

“My lady, why do you not answer? Since I have been in charge of you for the past three days, do you not realize that you must do to me what a married wife owes to her husband?”

My words had the desired effect of turning her into a raging ice beauty.

“Obligation! I have no obligation to any man, especially a man of the South. I am a born and free princess of the North, a warrior woman, a noble woman who would rather die than submit to hateful violence. Don’t you expect any ‘obligations’ from me, Mr. Knight; my husband is a slave to the pieces, and I am not!”

“But, ma’am, be careful who you are in Orod. Dura,” I continued, using sweet words to disguise the threatening intent of my words, “we are in a savage land, and a woman banished to the forest would in a few days be unable to withstand the attacks of wild beasts, or perhaps worse, the men of this land are ferocious, and enjoy their women as if they were meat, and when they have gotten their fill of them After they have gotten their fill of women, they throw out the wounded, useless women.”

“I’m not at all afraid of that fate.”

“Then, my lady, you are even more foolish than I thought. What can a lady do to defend herself in such a place? If you continue to displease me as you have done your husband, I may persuade him to banish you to the barbarians and leave you to suffer your fate.”

I naturally knew in my heart that Sir Bessilak would not do so.

But I thought it was important to remind her that she was mortal, of flesh and blood, and that she had to rely on a man’s care to survive.

There is no harm in speaking to her in this manner.

I glanced at her and knew that what I had said had worked because her white skin became even paler and she stared at me with wide eyes, but still with a challenging look on her face.

“This morning you ride with me to the forest,” I announced, and she could hear that it was an order, not a request.

The two of us went out riding single-touch, she on a white mare, and I on a stallion borrowed from the stables of Count Basilak.

The horse, like a beast digging for strength, flashed his eyes, sniffed and sniffed, his paws anxiously picking at the dirt on the ground, trying to get to the mare. I immediately reacted to the fact that the animal was in heat and might be useful to my plan.

After an hour’s ride, Mrs. O’Mushroomer, who had never opened her mouth, said she was tired and wanted to go back to the castle, and I laughed in my heart, for I could see at once that she was trying to get back to the safer part of the castle walls, and that it would be difficult to damage her honor.

“My dear lady,” I replied, “if you are tired, we will take a short nap. You see there is a clearing not far ahead, and we can rest and recover our energies by the river there.”

I had the satisfaction of seeing an alert look in Mrs. O’Mushroomer’s icy blue eyes.

However, it was clear to her that she had to obey orders. She then obediently rode her mare to the clearing, knowing full well that she needed me to help her dismount. With great reluctance, she approached me and allowed me to hold her slender waist.

While carrying her off the horse, I seized the opportunity to slip a greedy hand up her skirt. When my hand touched her smooth ass, a strong shiver like a pool of ripples quickly traveled through my entire body.

She wore only a linen corset under her skirt, like all northern women.

Hey. – Hey! My lady had only her virtue fuck as a line of defense! And, my fingers felt her trembling.

She knew in her heart as well as I did that she needed a stronger defense to escape my unwavering pursuit.

She was not as indifferent and unmoved by my actions towards her as she appeared to be. It was a long time before she struggled up in my arms and asked me to put the ground down. And, as I put her down, I took the opportunity to run one finger across her furrow, and found it hot and wet and pleasant.

I’m going to conquer her.

“Mr. Knight, let go!” Mrs. O’Mushroomer called out.

I smiled as I lowered the ground to the floor, but before I did I gave her a firm squeeze on her ass, which hurt her, but strangely she seemed to like it.

It was a hot day, and the warm sun shone through the branches of the trees on the ground. We sat down on the grass. She gazed at the river, the reflection of the water illuminating her cold blue eyes.

Her long dress clung to her body, the neckline opening up to just below her tight bib, and the dappled sunlight caressed her breasts gently.

How I wanted to rip her skirt off! So that I could sink my teeth deep into that soft, cozy flesh and nibble at those rose-colored nipples hidden deep beneath the plain white shirt, and how I wanted to let my raging cum spray all over that plush whiteness!

“Look!” I called out, “That horse of mine really knows how to look for an opportunity, and he won’t hesitate to go after what he wants.”

She turned her head and her eyes widened as she gazed with a look of half horror, half confusion, at what was happening before her.

The stallion in heat that I was riding was sniffing around the coy mare’s tail, extremely excited to show his interest in her. His manhood swelled to such an extent that he reared up on his hind legs, grabbed the still struggling mare’s back with his front legs, and bit the mare’s neck to keep her from slipping away. However, the swollen penis could not get into the mare’s body, so anxious that the stallion hissed and screamed.

“The poor fellow needs help,” I said wryly, “my lady, you help him!”

“Whatever you mean, I would never do such a thing!”

She stared at me in shock when she realized what I meant.

She desperately tried to get away, but I held her tight around the waist. I dragged her over to the dusty area where the stallion and mare were still frolicking, pried her fingers apart, and despite her resistance, placed the stallion’s massive manhood on her open palm. She shrieked in horror at the sight of what she held in her hand was actually something so horrible.

I especially noticed that her resistance was getting weaker.

She looked down at the huge object in her hands, a strange look of confusion showing on her face, a feeling of excitement and consternation intermingling to bring her to a state of stupefaction.

“Grab the stallion by that thing and put it inside the mare!” I ordered.

The sight of this haughty, icy virgin cupping the stallion’s shaft with her fingers almost reverently excited me, and my dick began to bulge in my pants. I wanted to push this virgin to the ground and make love to her like a stallion to a mare.

Seeing how slow she was, I put my own hand on O’Mushroomer’s and led her to help the stallion.

“I… I don’t want to do this.” She muttered, wriggling her hands to get away from me, but deep down she didn’t want to. The demonstration of her uncontrollable natural nature awakened her intense curiosity to witness it.

“I’m going to do this with you.” That’s what I said back.

With one of my hands still wrapped around her waist, I shoved the stallion’s manhood into the mare with the other. With a joyous neigh, the stallion and mare excitedly copulate.

“Touch it,” I whispered in O’Mushroomer’s ear, her hand still on the stallion’s shaft, “that’s how stallions mate with mares, and that’s how men make love to women. Do you want to?”

I ran her fingers away and saw that she still had a look of fascination and pity on her face.

I led her to a spot not far from the horses, and through her tight girth, I could vaguely see that the peaks of her breasts had risen high.

I knew in my heart that she would never resist if I wanted her on the grass. However, that would be too easy, and with Mrs. O’Mushroomer, I had other plans.

I let go of O’Mushroomer’s waist, and she sat down on the ground, gasping for air to get her blood circulating again. I didn’t allow her to catch her breath for long, and after only a moment, I pulled her to her feet.

“Take off your clothes,” I ordered.

“I will never undress for any man,” she cried, and, to my extreme astonishment, she drew a tiny silver dagger from her girth and stabbed it at me, with open teeth and glaring eyes, and an air of fighting to preserve her innocence.

But I was faster, and in one swift motion I snatched her weapon and threw the silver dagger into the river to feed the fish.

I twisted her shoulders back and held her waist as I ordered once more, “Take off your clothes: now! Please don’t forget that I have complete control over you and have every right to hurt you. If you don’t obey me now, I will show you no mercy.”

The princess with pale yellow hair and anger spewing from her eyes began to undress with her hands in the sun dappled clearing. Her hands couldn’t help but tremble as she unbuttoned the sash at the back.

“I can’t undo it,” she spoke in dry, emotionless tones, “You’ll just have to do it yourself if you want me to get undressed.”

The meaning of her words was obvious enough, so I hastened to undo the sash, but the sash was fastened so securely that I lost patience and drew my sword, “brushing” it from her neck to her waist. The princess stood still, without flinching, and did not care when the blade grazed her neck.

The tight bib slipped off her shoulders, revealing the linen shirt underneath. I pulled her skirt down below her hips with all my might, letting it slide down in a heap at her feet. Then I wrenched her body so she was facing me.

“Step out of your skirt,” I ordered.

She obeyed.

“Now take off your shirt, I want to see you naked.”

Slowly, mechanically, she bent down, grasped the folded edges of the shirt with both hands, and lifted it upward-over her knees, her waist, and finally over her head, dropping the removed shirt on the floor.

She was a real piece of work: her gaze was cold, her skin was white, her full breasts towered, and her hard pink nipples showed that spring was welling up inside her young body.

“O’Mushroomer, do you have a desire?” I asked her.

“I have no desire for men who are not worthy of me.”

She glared at me with contempt, but there was a hint of the fire of desire in her gaze.

She said, “How can I… how can I desire someone like you? I have noble blood in my veins, and my body belongs only to a famous family. You can’t harm me, I am protected by the magic of a marvelous white witch…”

“You’re wrong, O’Mushroomer,” I shushed in her ear, “Your body is available to any man who wants it. And today, your body belongs to me, to all the men who have desired you for so long. Magic will not save you.”

Mrs. O’Mushroomer gave a cry of grief, raised her hips to the heavens, and incanted in a language I knew nothing of.

That’s magic and prayer verses.

But no one could hear it but me, and I would not have the slightest pity for her “O poor deceived and abandoned one!”

She cried out, “Mr. Knight, have you no regard for your honor to think such evil of a noble lady?”

I laughed out loud, I really like this kind of game.

“My Mrs. O’Mushroomer, your husband has given you to me for three days to do with you as I please.”

Madame did look lovely naked, and I longed to let myself drown in her fragrant flesh, a virgin land that no man had ever touched or plowed.

I longed for her, longed to break her in the green grass, longed to hear her pitiful cries as I pleasured her.

I always like a little excitement before sex, and it wasn’t enough just to trick this woman, I had to completely break her will and make her submit to her husband’s demands.

Before she could understand what was going on, I removed the caging from her mare and girded my own mount; O’Mushroomer was my steed today and had to bear the brunt of my weight.

I forced her to her knees and, despite her invocation of resistance, wrenched her mouth open and shoved the horse’s metal mouth in, then slipped the cage over her face, head and neck, with the custodial rope dragging behind her back. Then I pushed her, and she was like a beautiful beast with her hands and feet on her. Her rear end came up against me as tantalizingly as a mare against a stallion.

I tied the saddle again, with the belly band fastened around her thin waist, so that the heavy saddle was securely fastened to her back.

The saddle was rough, cold, and must have been uncomfortable to press against her fine body, and with the horse’s chew in her mouth she could not utter a word of argument.

Finally, I tied a piece of padded belt around her thighs and hips like a ponytail strap, so that the crystal-white treasure she’d been so tightly guarding until now was finally revealed.

Her pink, moist and portal-closed pussy was divine. And her amber-colored, wrinkled anus was just as pleasing to my greedy eyes.

With my hand on the tether that controlled her movements, I spun around her, scrutinizing my new mount. Seeing her white-as-jade-fingers breasts hanging down like trees ripening about sweet fruit sent a surge of passion through me.

She desperately tried to clench her twins and hide her treasure, but they didn’t seem to listen to her and remained open. In front of me, she no longer had anything to hide.

I cut a piece of hazel wood with my dagger for a whip, and folded it with my fingers, which was both soft and hard. Then, spreading my legs half alive and half standing, I mounted her (for the weight of my whole body would have crushed her delicate body), raised the whip and gave her a spur.

“Hyah!” I shouted, as the hazelwood whip lashed the lovely buttocks of the cold-as-ice virgin.

She let out a slurred cry, which indicated that I had hit the nail on the head with all this. But the princess remained stubborn and didn’t move a muscle. I gave her another blow, this one a little heavier than earlier.

I commanded, “Go on, or you’ll get harder, little slut.”

This time, reluctantly or not, she obeyed, getting up slowly on her hands and knees in the grass.

“Noble mount, take another ride around the clearing!” I did enjoy this childish game. She would sometimes trip and I would use the whip to give her plump ass a taste of punishment. She would then jump in shock and try to scream, but I yanked on the horse chew that was biting into her mouth.

Poor O’Mushroomer! Her buttocks were bruised and purple in a moment. Her breathing became more and more rapid, a sign that her resistance was getting weaker. I then felt very excited. Although she was reluctant in her mind, this ice beauty did start to feel a sense of pleasure at the complete control of her flesh in my hands.

Eventually I got bored with the slow slithering tart and I turned my face to ride her upside down. The fine hazelwood whip was indeed an ideal tool, and I smoothly used it to tweak the delicate skin around her anus. Ah, she squirmed sharply during this marvelous ordeal, especially when I put the tip of the whip to her back door and pressed it in as easily as a knife cuts through butter. I amused myself for a while, twirling the whip around in O’Mushroomer’s anus, and opening the channel a little more so that there would be enough room inside to admit another guest on the day. After pulling out the whip, I slumped back a little more to scrutinize everything about her virginal cunt to magnificent color. It was exciting to see the tightly closed portal that symbolized chastity become so wet and so desperately in need of caressing.

I knew Mrs. O’Mushroomer was on the verge of being completely at my mercy. But for the sake of Din’s noble goal, I could not back down. Still sitting with my legs spread on this marvelous mount, I began to caress her lower lips and stroke the yellowish curls around her still-virgin pussy. She returned my actions with a series of low moans. I was surprised to note that she was getting wetter and wetter under my touch at the moment, despite her stubbornness.

I was thrilled as my fingers slid closer to my virgin’s hole, incredibly lubricated at the touch of my fingertips. My dick swelled to the point where it was holding up my pants. I knew that if I just pulled out and leapt onto the hips O’Mushroomer had given me, it would satisfy all my physical needs. But I wanted more than that.

Finally, my finger slipped inside the tight, wet slit, the better to seek out the unexplored landscape. She flinched back before my finger was even halfway in. I realized that I had touched Mrs. O’Mushroom’s hymen. So it seemed that she was still a virgin after months of marriage. I pressed against the membrane again and found it thick and tight. It wasn’t easy to break her.

Presently I climbed off her, undid the belly-band that held the saddle on, and, seeing that she was stiff and trembling, drew her to her feet and admired her. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen; naked except for the horse chew in her mouth, the cages she wore on her head and shoulders, and the tail-pockets that were tied to her inwardly sensible thighs. The tied tail-pockets forced her to spread her legs slightly when she stood, leaving her pussy door and back door exposed. Her protruding pink nipples became firm and mouth-watering like stalks of fruit. How I wanted to bite into those snow-white breasts, to dip my dry, eager tongue into her milk and savor it.

I took her around the waist again and half-pushed, half-pulled her closer to her mare, who had calmed down from her earlier passion and was peacefully chewing the cud. I took out a couple of belts from the basket, and O’Mushroomer cast a fearful glance at me: I had planned for the mysterious game we were about to play.

I took out four of the longest straps, buckled them in the center and turned them into two long straps that went through the mare’s saddle and hung down on either side of the horse. Then I had O’Mushroomer lie prone under the mare’s belly, tied the straps around her ankles and wrists, pulled the buckles tight, and her unsupported body was slowly dragged off the ground. Pulled to waist height, she was face down and bobbing around like a starfish. Then I took a rope from her neck and tied it to the saddle, thus bringing her head so that she could see ahead. O’Mushroomer hung under the horse’s belly, not saying a word, not moving a muscle. Her shifting legs were pulled open by the straps, and her wonderful bosoms dangled and quivered about from time to time. She looked fearful, in her heart, she knew that she was completely out of control, it all depends on what I do with her. There was a different look in both eyes, a newly aroused desire, the desire of a woman praying to be freed from her prison.

I knelt beneath her, facing the beauty that was now fully before me, and I began to explore her. Her body was so perfect – the body of an ice queen, with an intense cold flame emanating from within her icy jade. Her breasts were round and smooth, hanging down softly, terminating in pink, firm nipples that had tormented me for so long that I started with her shifting breasts, gently stroking and kneading them, cupping them in my hands to measure them. They were soft and sliding in my hands, arousing my desire to kiss them, lick them, suck them. I took one nipple into my mouth and nibbled gently, pinching the other between my thumb and forefinger.

Mrs. O’Mushroomer’s breathing became short and ragged, and a low moan escaped from her gagged mouth. After this enjoyment was enough, I turned my attention back to her lips. Her lips were red and plump, and I had already imagined in my mind many times that those lips were taking my sexually aroused prick in their mouth and sucking its sweet water. I shoved one finger into her mouth and took out the horse chew.

“Untie me and let me down, you tyrant! You’re a shameful, debauched rogue, and no knight at all!”

She snarled, still trying to look like a victimized virgin – while I could see lust in her gaze.

She made a show of biting my finger, and I scolded, “Bite it, and I’ll make it even harder for you than I did just now when I whipped your ass with the hazelwood whip, you brazen slut! Do as I say, or I’ll throw you to the wolves, to the wild men who roam the forest!”

Having said that, I then pulled open my pants, pulled out my impatient prick, and pressed the tip against her lips.

She did her best to keep her mouth shut, but I quickly poked in and almost choked her.

But, she didn’t want to hurt me, instead, she enjoyed sucking on my stiff prick with a natural skill.

God, I was instantly aroused, O’Mushroomer’s lips licked me with silky lubrication, and in no time at all, I could hardly contain myself, my cum rushed like a hot wave down the hollow of her throat, and the ground wanted to spit it out, but I wouldn’t let her.

“Swallow it, my lady,” I whispered, “it is the essence of life, a piece to gain the baptism of carnal desire.”

She obeyed.

I withdrew my prick from her mouth and let her catch her breath.

But the lust still shone in her gaze and I knew I had won the battle.

“Now is your baptism into womanhood,” I announced.

I got on my knees behind her and lowered my head, getting close to her increasingly wet hole and sucking on it. She began to moan with pleasure as my tongue searched around and came across her hard clit and licked it up.

At first, I licked gently, then with increasing vigor and recklessness.

“Ah… Oh…” she screamed as she felt her first orgasm coming.

And I, the knight of mercy, would not deny her. I continued to lick until a stream of fragrant, liquid love gushed from her bottom and she cried out at the sudden, mind-blowing sensation that came over her. I decided to completely breach her last line of defense before she slowed down. I was satisfied to see that my warrior was once again fully loaded and ready for a new battle. I placed the tip of it to the wet hole, grabbed her thighs with both hands and held her tight. My initial effort ended with Mrs. O’Mushroomer screaming in agony; her hymen was hard and not easily breached. But with another determined charge, I entered her hidden place.

I could feel the membrane being torn as my manhood rushed eagerly through the gateway to her treasured garden of pleasure. Bound, she cried out and twisted her body, trying in vain to escape my invincible spear.

“No, no, you can’t!” She screamed. Her words were too late, I had stormed her castle and was about to breach the gates. I pounded away hungrily, her channel soft, smooth, and fiery as it wrapped around my hungry arrow of flesh. I knew it wouldn’t last long this time, and I could already feel cum gathering at the base of my spear, ready to jet into O’Shroomer’s wet hole.

“Oh, here we go again!” O’Shroomer was about to reach her first orgasm as a real woman, and I was more than happy to share this pleasure with her, so I screamed and let my semen gush out and shoot into her.

I got off of her and watched with extreme satisfaction as blood and cum mixed together and continued to pour out of her body. The icy virgin was beginning to thaw, but I wasn’t done with her yet, there was still an end-cultivated channel to conquer. I resumed playing with O’Shroomer’s anus, ignoring how she begged me to leave her with one last bit of dignity and respect. I cared for nothing; she was now my plaything, my instrument of lust and the recipient of pleasure. In addition, she herself had already received a considerable amount of pleasure from it.

O’Mushroomer’s Ryper-colored rose was tightly closed and dry, so I dabbed a little of her love juice and smeared it on the wrinkled backdoor opening. She flinched her body to the right in pain as I shoved first one and then two fingers into the forbidden area. But she didn’t stop me, and I knew she was as eager to do it as I was. By the time three fingers were shoved in, I surmised that she would be able to accept my third passion of the day. My manhood was straightening up again, in thirst. My prick quivered with excitement at the sight of her pussy and anus so nakedly displayed in front of me under the straps. So I instantly grabbed her still red and swollen ass and slammed it in. She only grunted as I went in, then moaned lowly.

I pumped from a slow and easy rhythm while stroking her clit to make her even more aroused. Her anus was tight, like a clenched fist, holding my prick tightly. I wrapped my hands around her thighs and pumped with increasing urgency. Finally, with a cry of excitement and consummation, we climaxed together.

After I untied Mrs. O’Mushroomer, she remained in a fainting state, and it was only when we arrived at the castle of Auld Lang Syne that she woke up. Dura Castle, and I put her to bed before she woke up. I made a point of disarranging my clothes and making a small cut on the arm that held my sword – I claimed to have been attacked by those vagabonds from the borderlands.

Mrs. O’Mushroomer was captured by them after she very foolishly left me. It was at great risk to my life that I rescued her. She was trashed but unharmed.

Mrs. O’Mushroomer did not expose my lie, so I spent the next two nights in Mrs. O’Mushroomer’s bed, teaching her how to be a woman. On the third day, when Lord Bessilac returned, all was in order in his castle, and his wife was recovered, with a brand-new gleam in her blue eyes. After greeting her husband, she took him to her own bedroom, and thereafter saw no more of either of them for several days.

(iii)

Sir Kay’s veiled head bobbed with laughter.

“My dear Sir Gaijanne,” exclaimed the naked witch, “such chivalry demands a well-deserved reward. Since you have given Madame d’Aujourdre such pleasure, should you not savor the unique taste of such pleasure?”

“I… I don’t understand,” Gaijin grumbled, still distracted by the fact that he was forced to tell the truth, “what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your reward, my good young knight, for having such beautiful, toned limbs and a brazen prick.”

“My reward…” Her black-veiled face made it impossible to guess the meaning of her words.

But Gay Jahn stared blankly at her nervous, devilishly beautiful torso, and her firming up nipples thrilled him darkly.

Fear wove itself around his heart like the black, starched cape of a witch.

“What fun it should be to play with your toned limbs, your mighty prick, and watch them fail, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t you say it’s an amusing joke, Sir Gatchorn, a rich reward? Your reward, dear Knight, is to taste the extraordinary pleasure that comes with your allegiance to Madame d’Aujour, that is, to taste the sweetness of humility. The sorceress bent down to pick up her wand and struck it three times on the table, a golden spark rising from the silver tip. Then, raising the magic enchilada to shoulder height, she pointed it at the Gaiaphon and began to recite the incantation, “Amen, amen, Tarkaile.”

Sir Guy Jahn felt at once that his hands and feet were bound by brutal iron fetters that prevented him from moving. He looked downward in alarm, trying to reach for his dagger and cut the shackles that bound him so tightly to his chair. But there was nothing there; the power of sorcery bound him as firmly as the iron fetters and straps.

Just as he was looking around, the witch leaned over his shoulder and undid the belt of his pants that was tied around his waist. Pulling the cuffs of his pants open, the shaft was exposed. Watching the shaft grow longer, hotter, and more erect in her snowy, cold fingers, she toon appreciatively.

Would she satisfy him?

Is that the prize he’s going to get?

Would she use her hands, lips, and tongue to dispel this wave of fitfulness he was experiencing?

Would she cross her legs and sit on its lap, sending his dick into her soft wetness?

Her touch aroused his intense desire and he moaned with pleasure.

His words were horrified, “Make love to me quickly, suck me… whatever you want!”

The witch threw back her head and laughed, her large, soft breasts quivering with each laugh.

“Ah, no, dear knight.”

She removed her fingers from his extremely swollen manhood and let it bounce tautly against his stomach with a look of all-consuming thirst.

Gavin stared at her fearfully, “You can’t just leave me like this, I’m which word I’ve missed you!”

“Accept your reward, Sir Gaijin: calmly and patiently? For we have many tales to hear this night, and many other knights are as ready to tell them as you are to fight for my bed, my body, and to become my slaves. Therefore, join with your brother riding earth in the enjoyment of sweet servitude!”

King Arthur raised his hand to grip the hilt of his trusty Excalibur of Excaribe, but it didn’t work. As soon as he touched the hilt, it became natural and seared his fingers in pain, causing him to scream out in agony.

“Under the Ascension, do you not recognize that you cannot raise your sword against me? I am protected by the magic that was graciously given to me by your guardian Merlin during the days and nights of intercourse with me.”

“By striking against me you are attacking yourself, my Lord. Fight against me and you will perish. Make me happy to fulfill my rhapsodies and desires, and you will likely share in my eternity.”

The sorceress turned to face the knight sitting to the right of Sir Gaejanne – blonde hair, pale skin, gray eyes, tall overlooked body, full, sensual lips.

“Sir Kay, do you have a story to tell us?”

The young knight looked up from the table, anger flashing in his gaze, his mouth prostrated in defiance.

“I’m not telling you anything because I have nothing to say.”

Now that the witch stood behind him, he could feel the soft, warm breath behind his head, making his short blonde hair stand up, and his mind captured a vision of his manhood on fire, on fire.

“Bah? Sir Kay! You can’t hide it from me. So fine a young man as you must have had fun with many maids and village girls.”

When she said this, the young knight was furious and shouted: “I am a Knight of the Round Table, I only follow the orders of the King alone, and I have noble blood in my veins, so how can I be in the company of a maid or a village girl? I have sworn to pursue beauty, noble gentility, improve my cultivation, and follow noble love.”

“Yo!” The witch called out.

“So your interest is not in lowly maids, but in their mistresses Lo? Speak from your heart, Sir Kay; tell us the story of your brave pursuit of the opposite sex. Was there not a lady in the North Kingdom-the Lady Gisela? Hast thou not played a wonderful tune, on the sweetest instrument in her body?”

Sir Kay opened his mouth to deny everything the witch had accused him of, but how awful!

As soon as he opened his mouth, the extremely despicable words couldn’t help but all pop out.

The story of Sir Kay and Lady Gusella

A year ago in the early summer I had just become a knight – at the age of thirteen I became a poor squire, subordinate to other knights.

I came from a poor background, my father being a homesteader and my mother a lady-in-waiting to Lady Guinevere before her marriage. It was through my mother’s connections that I was accepted into Castle Camelot and went there to be trained as a knight in order to learn elegant etiquette.

On my sixteenth birthday, I passed the required test and was honored as a Knight of the Round Table. I had long desired the sword and banner of the Knights of the Round Table, and my new title made me proud. I longed for the opportunity to show my knighthood, and when Merlin summoned me and entrusted me with a great mission, I eagerly set out for the King’s order.

My masters and associates are convinced that I am pure of heart and pure of motive, and yet, deep in my heart lies pride and remoteness, self-importance, and a desire for a high pièce de résistance and sweet flesh.

The next morning I rode on my way to this kingdom to deliver Merlin’s important gift to Prince Elfrith.

Elfrith, the aging ruler of the North, decides in his twilight years that he wants a young wife to carry on his family’s name. However, Prince Aelfrith is old, old-eyed, and has lost his godly powers, and has reached the end of his days. Worried about his inability to obtain a bride on his wedding night, he sends a letter to his good friend Merlin, asking him to give him a wand and an amulet to restore his divine powers, so that he can win over his lovely young bride with a dashing image.

Merlin made the preparations he had requested, and gave me the errand, for he thought me a decent young man, anxious to show chivalry. Sadly, I had already thought of a stratagem; which, if known to others, would bring shame upon me and dishonor upon Castle Camelot.

It took me a whole week on horseback to reach Prince Elfrith’s castle.

It was a huge black castle, tucked away in the heavily wooded mountains, and a rather attractive maid welcomed me into the apartment.

“The prince is out hunting today.”

She gave me a demented smile as she said this to me.

I could tell that I had made a good impression on her – in fact, a mediocre, lowly woman like her would not be able to satisfy my carnal desires. But with my young manhood already erect in my tight pants, I couldn’t help but worry about how I was going to pass the time down there.

“Good Knight, he won’t be back until three days from now.”

The young girl continued, with an adorable look on her face – the tight bib neckline on her was open so low that it was about to hide the spring color inside, just enough to cover the deep pink nipples, but still like two tiny noses pressed against the thin summer shirt that clung to her body.

“Tonight you dine with the prince’s future bride, Lady Gisela, and are invited to be her honored guest. But, my lord, is there anything I can do for you to make it pleasant?”

I’m not a careless uninterested person, and I couldn’t help but be impressed when she intentionally unbuttoned the top button of her shirt so that I could get a good look at the depths of the unbelievably beautiful gully in between her tightly taut breasts.

She had just called me “good knight” and “lord” in a flattering manner, which pleased me exceedingly. I did prefer to be a little lordly in the presence of this small countrywoman.

“Go lock the door,” I ordered.

A knowing smile swept across her characteristically naive country face for a moment, then she walked quickly toward the door, her pretty blonde hair bouncing like waves on her bare shoulders as she skillfully turned the heavy iron key in the lock.

“Now come to me.” I ordered.

“Yes, Master,” she responded, and to my surprise, she knelt down in front of me with extreme groveling and stroked my privates through my tight pants.

“No, not yet,” I exclaimed in mock anger, “I haven’t given you an order yet, and you can only touch my meat arrow when I do.”

“Then, my lord, I must be punished.”

She whispered softly as if she was really repenting, her eyes were lowered, but her peaks were high, so this charming spring light let me have a full view.

Ah yes, a punishment indeed. But how to punish her? To be a little hard, for sure, but not to dampen her enthusiasm, and to have fun after the punishment.

“Bend forward and lean back in your chair.” I instructed.

She did as I said, and I lifted up her skirt, lifted her cloth girth above her waistline, kneaded up a bunch, and tied it in a knot so that, from the waist down, all of her twat and legs were bare, with only a pair of penny loafers on her feet.

Like a general reviewing his troops, I sized her up carefully.

Her skin was light brown, like a woman’s seven velvet peaches and plums, and she must have frolicked a lot in the blazing spring sun to have such beautiful brown skin.

“Your skin gets a lot of sun,” I savored, “and your back is tawny little bitch, where’s your bottom?”

She let out a “giggle” as my hand explored her bottom.

“The prince likes to have his maids naked in the summer,” she explained, “he says it reminds him of the summers of his youth and awakens his desire.”

“So, have you aroused his carnal desires? Did he ever enjoy you?”

“Jesus! Sir, no such thing. But he likes to see me suck the young men’s cocks in the village, and he’d give me a penny for letting him see me do it with Old Tom. Old Tom runs the cellar here, and he’s very old, but he’s got a dick so big it’s indescribable, and he fucks like a stallion, a real stallion.”

At this moment, I feel that I have also become a stallion, with a set of solid, smooth and taut testicles. In my mind, I imagined that my balls would stand up straight, as big as a stallion’s, and would be so powerful that they would pound into the middle of the yellow-colored strands in front of me, pushing into the belly of this young and shameless bitch.

She’s not the noble woman I was hoping for, just the kind of woman who can help you make a go of it.

“Such shameless words, coming from a young virgin!”

I exclaimed with feigned disgust, and laughed lightly at the word “virgin,” suspecting that she had long ago given her virginity to Old Tom or some other rascal in the village.

“Now, brace yourself against the wall, I’m going to give you a good whipping:” she leaned over from the back of the chair, palms against the wall, bracing herself for the whipping moss that awaited me. She shrugged her wide, sexy hips at me and my hands itched to slap her. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I gripped the sword in both hands, turned the hilt so that the blade was pointed at me, raised it, and slapped it down on the eagerly awaiting flesh with a whirr.

She let out a howl as the cold metal slapped heavily on her buttocks, but, to my satisfaction, I saw her legs spread wider and wider, opening her twat completely, as if pleading with me to give her a harsher punishment.

How could I refuse her request?

I slapped my sword again and again against the glistening golden buttocks, quickly making its fiery marks radiate out.

With each blow, her twins parted a little, and she began to moan as low as a female wolf in heat, urging the male she was mating with to bite into her thin waist and shove his quivering genitals into her ferociously.

“You demon girl∶” I panted while punishing her with my sword.

“Ah, a demoness, my lord.”

She gasped, savoring the taste of the cold outline sword whipping across her wonderful, fleshy ass again and again.

Her buttocks grew redder and redder with each beat, like ripe fruit in the sun, and in my mind I imagined my teeth sinking into the fleshy bush.

Throwing my sword aside, I pulled down my pants and released the tight, fleshy arrow, which was as noble as a good stallion, so eagerly raising its tightly distended head. So like a warhorse on the march, wearing a gleaming helmet and holding up its tight, hard tusks, waiting for enjoyment.

I grabbed this little bitch double stock, make a burst of pinch and take, listening to her screams, I shivered with excitement, admiring the tight jade buttocks, the hand does not let go, hard to lift it, two pieces of ripe peaches presented in front of the eyes, between which is really infinite spring light.

Ah, what a ripe peach, with a heart of honey and sweetness.

I use my fingers greedily in this woman’s wet ditch waist to explore, and then licked inside the nectar, the initial aroma of the nose, aftertaste is a strong example of like fragrance, from the mouth like a fire like explosion all over the body, I can no longer own.

“Punish me, my lord!”

She purred, assuming the look of a willingly punished ascetic, and lewdly arched her rear toward me.

“Stab me.”

After a bit of tweaking at the back of her brown shifting strands, she grunted and grunted and wriggled, and the lewdness from her private parts down there gushed out like a tidal wave onto her tantalizing brown thighs.

I couldn’t wait any longer, and firmly grasping my meaty arrow, I forced my way into the groove she had offered me, and all of a sudden her soft lips sucked tightly on my prick, and I couldn’t help but grunt with excitement along with her.

I rode her to fulfill a need, not out of genuine affection.

She was like a little wild filly that I could safely frolic with without consequence.

It was delightful to frolic with her, like playing a folk instrument, capable of making coarse and stirring music in stirring rhythms.

As I plowed into her, I ran my hands up to her breasts and roughly fumbled with the straps of her tight bodice, and when I finally found a way to undo it, I gave it a sharp tug. Pulling down her dress shirt, her bosom jiggled and fell into my eager hands. Her breasts felt smooth, soft and hot to the touch, heavy about and fluttering. Grasping them, I lemoned my fingers over the nipples, satisfied that they were firming up.

Her bosoms were getting harder and bigger, and her lower back and forth pussy secrets were getting wetter and wetter, soaking my prick. Since it had been several weeks since I had been with a woman, I felt like I couldn’t do it after a short ride, and it was a shame that it had to be over so soon.

She gasped and tinkled, her body writhing rapidly, and I sensed that she was reaching her climax and her pussy was getting tighter and tighter.

My dick was touched and leaked.

After withdrawing from her body, I took a few steps back and saw cum and nectar dripping down her thighs, a sight so refreshing that my manhood couldn’t help but get hard again.

The girl undid the knot that held her skirt in place and then squarely lowered it to cover her legs.

I felt a pang of regret in my heart as her beautiful, powerful thighs disappeared from view. But on second thought, she was nothing more than a country whore, and there were more important prey for the night?

As soon as I heard that Prince Elfrith was old and often absent from his domain, as to-day, the day on which I had brought him the long-awaited wedding present from Merlin, he was surprisingly absent from his own domain, a plan was already fixed in my mind.

During the trip, I opened the packages I was carrying and inspected them in spite of the ban.

I had heard Merlin telling his assistant what the contents of the package were, and, being young and proud, had not taken his warning seriously.

I opened the sealed about two buckskin bags and found two bottles inside. One was a drop of white, odorless powder, Merlin’s aphrodisiac formula, a gift he had given to his friend Alfrith to satisfy his bride and obtain offspring.

From the label, I could see that only a few pills were needed to produce a long-lasting effect. I thought to myself that the prince must have cherished this powder… I then happily took out a spoonful of the powder, wrapped it in paper and put it in my horse bag.

The other bottle contained a clear, pale pink syrup with a whiff of glass perfume. According to the label, it was a fantastically potent aphrodisiac, and whoever took a spoonful was guaranteed submissive and desirous for twenty-four hours, after which the drug had to be reapplied.

My mind fell out of the thought: Mrs. Gisela is a well-known beauty, two years ago at the age of sixteen shortly after the death of her husband, has been kept as a woman, and therefore is also known as a chaste woman.

Moreover, this enviable creature is at this moment living in her future husband’s castle, preparing for the wedding. What would she have been if she had not invited me to be her guest at her table tonight?

Gisela was ignorant of the methods her late husband employed for the consummation of their union.

She doesn’t know the real reason why I’m here at the moment, and she must think that I’m just here as King Arthur’s envoy to her wedding (which is indeed my mission as well). So she will not be aware of what I am trying to do. Either way, I have to make sure Merlin’s gift works, don’t I?

Shaking with excitement, I emptied the travel water bottle and sprinkled a little of the aphrodisiac in.

That evening, the same maid sent word to invite me to dine with Mrs. Gisela.

What a coincidence that she and I were the only guests in the castle, and, since she was an immaculate noblewoman and I was an innocent Knight of the Round Table, it seemed to her to be a matter of etiquette for us to dine alone together, which was of course perfect for my plans.

I took a shower and put on my best clothes, a red tight top with gold wisp edging and a pair of black leggings with red and gold identical velvet slippers.

These garments were a gift from Queen Guinevere in honor of my entrance into King Arthur’s court, and being obviously radiant in them is something I am proud of. Of course, if everything goes according to plan tonight, it won’t matter if I look good in them or not.

I was led through the main dining room of the castle to a small side room.

Inside, the furnishings were ornate, with dozens of candle flames reflecting off the embroidered tapestries draped over the thick stone walls.

At the top of a long wooden dining table sat the most beautiful woman I had ever seen: noble, slim, but extremely full breasts with nipples that shook under a waterfall of long brown hair.

As she stood up to greet me, I could see her waist, which looked even more slender against the silver belt and plump hips.

She held out a hand toward me, and when I knelt and kissed it, I smelled the exotic aroma of roses mixed with the warmth of her body, and leaned so close to her that I could have lifted her green velvet dress shirt with a single reach, and plunged headlong into the smooth brown rightwood bush between her twins.

I looked up at her emerald sleepers and longed in my heart to have my prick rammed into her full red lips, to invite her to suck me, to make this chaste, regal beauty tremble at the gift of my self-satisfied sex. In my mind’s eye, I pictured her choking on my tidal wave of cum, which tree down around the corners of her mouth.

At the moment I made up my mind to get her.

I stood behind her chair, put on my gentlemanly demeanor, and asked her to take her seat.

While she sat down, I was busy doing the unseemly: pouring a few drops of the aphrodisiac into her glass, watching with interest as the pale pink liquid blended with the crimson wine in the glass.

None of this aroused her suspicion.

I sat down in my own chair and watched her closely as she held a glass of wine in her hand for a moment and then put her hands on both knees.

Would she decide not to drink the wine? Will she suspect that her wine has been adulterated? Did she see me tampering with it? Even if she did drink the wine, would the aphrodisiac work?

The food was hearty and delicious, and as I ate, I nearly choked, for my heart was agonizing over my doubts.

I looked at her pretty lips as they caressed the food; a small piece of bread, a nut, a spoonful of roast swan, and thought to myself that those lips were caressing my cock, my balls, my twat. I could see her marl breasts fluttering as she laughed, and as she bent down to cut the food. As she cut the food, her arms squeezed the side of her breasts so hard that they bulged out, and as I watched, my cock bulged out too, trying to break free. While she swiveled in her chair, I was imagining his wonderful buttocks flattening down on the shiny wood of the chair, her tantalizing legs spreading apart, her tiny folded market-pepper-colored anus sitting up against the shirt and the velvet skirt that wrapped tightly around her torso.

I must have her, I thought to myself.

Finally, Gisela choked on a piece of bread and coughed up her staff.

“Is it a sip of wine, ma’am?”

I couldn’t help but offer in a calming voice.

“Well… you may be right.”

Gisela, who was still coughing a bit, picked up her glass and took a few small sips.

The coughing of the cane stopped, and I was afraid that she would stop drinking. But my fears were redundant as she raised the glass to her sensuous lips again and drained it in one gulp.

Now, all I have to do is wait.

To my surprise, almost as soon as she finished her drink, a change crept over her.

Her eyes seemed to brighten, and she turned her head to stare at me, as if she were sending frequent waves.

In the quiet of the restaurant, I could faintly hear her heart beating faster and heavier.

She turned to the maidservant serving us and said, “You may leave us, now.”

The maid gave a curtsey and left the house, halfway pulling the heavy brocade  up to block the letterway. I was alone with Gisela at last, and her soft, full breasts quivered as she held out her arms to me, her fat green eyes glowing in the flickering candlelight.

“My lord,” she whispered, “my only wish…”

“Gisela!”

I couldn’t believe I’d crossed the line.

Fumbling in the small leather pouch hanging from my waist, I pulled out the paper packet that I obviously wasn’t going to need at this moment with my lust – poured a pinch of the white powder into my own glass of wine and drained the glass in one gulp.

Within seconds, it was as if I had ascended to a wonderland – a wonderland of unparalleled pleasure, where my lust rose to its peak. My young body had never been so eager, so eager; my desire was magnified a thousandfold, and every nerve was strained to the breaking point by the passion that was springing from it.

I dropped my hand to hold the shaft through my pants and found it like a foreign object, part of my body and not part of my body at the same time, like a powerful, energetic machine; or like a big snake, unfolding its coiled body, ready to strike, to lash out like a ray of lightning, spewing its venom.

“What is your wish, my lord?” Gisela gasped softly.

She was now a woman of changed temperament, not the usual soft-spoken, self-possessed, chaste widow, who had welcomed me to dinner with downcast eyes and cold, formal words, devoid of vile desire.

And at the moment, every look, every word, every movement, every breath she takes reveals this desire.

“Tell me what you want me to do.”

“My lady, please tell me, Gisela, do you want me?”

“My lord, I don’t want you anywhere in my whole body.”

“Tell me your wishes, I want to hear every word, every thought in words and actions.”

“My whole being wants you, my private parts, which have been alone for so long, are now opening wide, empty and raw inside, longing for you to fill them up. My breasts crave your fingers, your lips, your teeth. Let me lick you like a baby, my lord; you can suck milk from my nipples at the same time, and I’ll suck your cum with my thighs, with my fingers, with my mouth. There is another secret place… I, I dare not say.”

“Tell me if you want me to fulfill your wish.”

“It is my hip. My lord, it longs for you too. I have watched you carefully, you are so dashing, and my hips look to your touch, your kisses, your up and down. What do you want from me now, my lord?”

I felt smug and horny. The maddening heat in my belly was like to spread all over my body, and the urgency of the desire was terrible.

I knew that the powder I had swallowed would give me many victories and many orgasms, but I was still unwilling to lose the torment of lust all at once, unwilling to give up the chance to give it another boost, the only way I could enjoy the thrill of simultaneous conquest.

I would smile heartily and say, “I want you to take off your clothes, right here and now, and then come to me and fulfill my desire.”

A look of embarrassment swept across her face.

“But what if we are discovered by someone? There are guards and servants everywhere, and we’re only separated from the halls of the castle by a band, so what if someone comes in and finds us?”

“Gisela, do you want me? Haven’t you felt the taste of my tongue caressing your cuntbelt? And the taste of my manhood in your pussy, my fingers running across your ass?”

“I want you.”

“Then you’ll do as I say.”

It was at this moment that the aphrodisiac seemed to take full effect, for the dark cloud cleared from her face.

Gisela became the most complete, submissive, noble and satisfying slave a man could ever want.

She began by undoing the silver belt around her waist, which was shaped like a snake with its tail in its mouth, a situation that instantly reminded me of my own leaping snake, wanting to bury its head between her thighs, in the wet, warm place.

She placed the belt on the table, then reached behind her back to feel the straps that fastened the velvet dress garment that clung to her body.

After a moment, she undid her skirt, then raised her hands and pulled the tight girth over her shoulders and down to her hips, vaguely revealing her beautiful breasts, leaving only an embroidered linen shirt on top, clinging to her hard nipples, which longed to be loved. Then she grabbed the dress and pulled it down below her hips with difficulty, stepping out of it before hanging the removed skirt over the backrest of the chair.

She stood before me in her undergarments, her shoulders bare, an attire that only her maid had seen in the two years since her husband’s death in battle. Nor, perhaps, had he ever seen her so wanton and wearing so little.

The heart was so willing again, for she had always been a chaste and self-possessed lady, until this evening.

Her shirt front with a row of small bow buckle, a blink of an eye by her fingers unlocked, the front is open, inside the infinite spring is suddenly exposed, her proud jade body makes me gasp, the plump, white and flawless skin has been a long time no one to see, no one touched, my whole body has a kind of hunger and thirst want to get her desire.

Gisela tossed her shirt over the side and walked toward me, a smile on her face, full of irresistible fireworks.

It was clear to me that she was completely at the mercy of the aphrodisiac – and myself – at this point.

She appeared both submissive and restless as she stood in front of me: waiting impatiently for my command to free her from the last vestiges of her shame and to let her unleash all her long suppressed lust on my body.

Her pitiful look caused me to have a sideways cry.

“Gisela, you can undress me and suck me until I cum.”

With a low stop of excitement, Mrs. Gisela began to pull on my dress.

Afraid that she would spoil my only good set of clothes, I had to ask her to be a little more restrained, but still, it didn’t take her much longer to strip me of my clothes and get me as naked as she was, whereupon she got down on her knees, and with her hands and her mouth working together, she scratched and licked my manhood and balls for a while, and instantly I felt a jolting surge of pleasure that made me fear that I might be able to get it out before it was put into the plump mouth of her lips. pouring out its contents.

Anxious to savor her flesh, I pressed her head downward between my twins, spread her mouth with my fingers, and pushed my stiff shaft in.

I cried out in excitement as the tip of her warm, wet tongue slid over the round head of my hard spear, and I pulled her toward me again so that I could point my manhood straight down her grateful throat.

She sucked and licked eagerly and greedily while I controlled the rhythm of her lips with one hand and squeezed its nipple with my fingers with the other, so that she too could savor the pleasure and the upsets.

But a moment later, I found semen gathering at the root of the meaty arrow, and with a gasp of excitement – I didn’t dare to yell – I hit her throat with the strongest force I could muster, and the semen cascaded out in such a torrent that it nearly choked the poor woman into a fainting fit.

She coughed at my feet, cum dripping from her plump red lips. I pulled her up and kissed her passionately, savoring the slightly astringent taste of my own cum.

As if the taste had revived me, or as if the white powder I had swallowed had done its work, I had just finished semening, and my manhood stood proudly up again, seemingly firmer than it had been a moment before, and busy with an ample supply of semen.

It was in my younger days that I had never been able to revitalize myself so quickly and so well, and I couldn’t help but secretly praise the potion that had given me such divine powers.

Gisela stared into my eyes, and I found her fingers fumbling with my spear again, obviously very pleased with its revitalized valor.

It was obvious that she was desperate for relief, because she had begun to moan and spread her legs apart, rubbing the soft little bud of her pussy against my leg, as if to bring herself to the peak of her excitement. I pushed her away as I wanted to give her pleasure myself.

She sobbed in the face of my relentlessness, but when I slipped a fingertip inside her and explored up, she began to moan with excitement again. Lust dripped straight down her lower body, but it was tight inside – for the young woman was still almost a virgin, and her husband had had little opportunity to enjoy her flesh before he was killed in battle.

I dabbed a little of the overflowing juice and applied it to the buttoned-up bud of flesh just before her bottom.

She grabbed me, tighter and tighter, like someone desperate for relief, babbling and humming under her breath.

“My lord, give it to me, please fuck me! Harder, no… softer, softer; now focus more… ah, fuck me, I beg you to fuck me! Fill me with your manhood, stab me with your solid spear, turn me on and make me scream!”

I wanted to pleasure this woman with my hands, but her pleas were so heartbreaking that I couldn’t deny her. So I pushed her roughly onto the table, leaving the table a mess of wine glasses and plates holding food, making too much crashing noise.

I was afraid that the servants would come over to see what was going on, so I had her lie on her back on the edge of the table, with her legs stretched out in the air, and carefully aligned my rock-hard shaft with the center of her pussy, and when I gave it a full stroke, I was surprised to find that it was too tight inside, and blocked my movements.

It took until the third time to ram it in, by which time, she and I were both on the verge of leaking.

I rode her valiantly, and it was a joy to see how soft this noble woman became under my loving assault. Soon I brought her to an orgasm, and if I hadn’t strapped one hand over her mouth, her cries would have brought down the entire castle.

Then, without even giving her a chance to catch her breath, I pulled her up off the table and had her turn around and lie face down before spreading her legs so they were completely open.

“My lord, what are you doing?”

Gisela gasped again when she came up for air, the fire of desire rising in her heart for me again.

“My lady, I’m going to ride you in a different way.”

As I answered, I dabbed at the puddle of juice that ran down her thighs and smeared it on her folded brown anus, which was now the center of my attention, the focus of my desire.

I scanned the table and found a thick, hard sausage just the way I wanted it, so I took it swiftly and shoved it into her wet, sprinkled cunt, then rubbed her rosebud heart to harden it, once again stopping her cries of pleasure and causing her to let out a pleasure chant. Then I pivoted hard on this lady’s twat and pushed my taut manhood into her tight virgin hole.

She only squirmed one way or the other as I tossed and turned, and I doubt if the move hurt her; but when I finally broke through her forbidden channel, she let out a long sigh of satisfaction and came up against me eagerly. And I strained at her with my fingers, my prick, and that most marvelous instrument.

When I finally bathed her in my cum, she too reached her climax and leaked a stream of love juice.

Throughout the night I rode her without stopping, and though I’m sure someone would have suspected our actions, no one dared to disturb us.

At dawn, we each returned to our rooms.

The next night, the drug having worn off, I saw her again, but she was unmoved and could not even recall what had happened the night before.

By the evening of the third day, Prince Elfrith rode home, and on the evening of the fourth day, he and Mrs. Gisela were solemnly married. He told me privately that the potions I had brought with me were all effective, and that he was very pleased with the bride. Also, the bride seems to be still very naïve, but strangely quite good at bedlam.

As for Mrs. Gisela, I was told that she was very content with her aged husband, who, despite his old age, was still a godly man. There is no doubt that the aphrodisiac worked.

Her contentment, which had reached its zenith a few months ago – that is, less than nine months after the wedding – at which time she had given birth to a son, a boy with light blonde hair and gray eyes, just like his father’s.

(iv)

King Uriens.

“So it is!” King Arthur shouted, already furious at his knight Sir Kay.

“I trusted you, thought you were a trustworthy knight, and you betrayed me! Is this how I want you to repay me for giving you food and clothing, and for elevating you from a poor squire?”

“I…”

Sir Kai couldn’t figure out why he had just said those things, and his mouth stammered in reply.

He was trying to stick it in his face, but instead he spoke the truth spoke some morally bankrupt truth.

The veiled witch stepped up beside Merlin at this point, and watched with a rounded interest as the old man tried his best to rub his engorged penis, having stopped halfway through due to the weakness of his arms.

She turned around again and faced Sir Kay once more.

“Your king’s abhorrence of you is the reward for your miserable behavior,” she said to him in a tone of cocoanut pleasantness; “he will not henceforth give you so great a mission in another life.”

King Arthur did glare at him with both eyes firmly fixed at the moment, and he could not help but blush and open his mouth, not knowing either how he should raise his hand or how to react.

“That’s enough,” the veiled lady commanded as she lifted the shimmering edge of her shivering poncho behind her so that all the knights present could get a clear view of her beautiful torso.

“There are more stories to be told, and, I also know that you all want to be in my arms, longing for my lips, my hips, my breasts, my strands, and my lower cunt to be able to gently bitch you.”

“Good man King Uriens tell us why you are sitting at this table, you used to be a king in that kingdom of yours.”

Uriens was an old man with white hair and a long silver beard, and because of his age, his voice trembled when he spoke back, “I gave King Arthur my own kingdom as a gift.”

He explained: “Because it was his knights who swept away the devils, lawlessness and sinful rebels in my domain. In return, the king gave me a beautiful castle and land, and made me an advisor at Castle Camelot. That is why I sit here today as one of the Knights of the Round Table.”

“I see,” said the veiled woman, “I wouldn’t choose a white-bearded old man like you as my lover. If you have a story to tell, it should be a long time ago, when you were young and strong and led by the nose by lust.”

“That is not the case, ma’am,” replied the old king; “I have the story of a recent flirtation to tell, a story of a new and recent kiss.”

“Tell us your story,” commanded the witch, laying her hand on his shoulder on one side, absorbed in the sights that poured into her mind from the old man’s memory.

“Tell us about the Morgana Witch.”

The Story of King Uriens and the Morgana Witch

In the year after the Great Plague two years ago, I was fated to meet the Morgana Witch.

Not long ago, King Arthur summoned me and announced as a gift the castle of Maris, a fine castle, bordered on three sides by the sea and high on a cliff overlooking the sea.

I know very little about this new territory, except that it used to be the territory of Baron Malfes, and that a year ago Baron Malfes, a friend of King Arthur’s, was killed in a battle, and that his daughter, Mrs. Morgana, took over his territory and became the burgess of Castle Maris, twelve months ago now.

King Arthur smiled as he spoke of the lady’s awesomeness and her loneliness surrounded by the sea, “My good companion, you will have plenty of time to spend with this Mrs. Morgana, and let her have your care.

And I’m sure she’s all for making your life generous and comfortable.”

Personally, I have lost interest in the flesh of young women; for you should be able to see that I am an old man and no longer in the prime of my life.

I’d just about forgotten about physical pleasure, and it had been a long time since I’d been close enough to play God on a woman.

Still, I must confess I was glad to have the lady’s company, for I was afraid of being alone, and it was after all delightful to have a housekeeper to look after my life.

But I could never have imagined that Morgana would torture me in that way to make me happy… I arrived at Maris Castle on the third night, tired, hungry and sleepy.

The castle, perched on the rocky outcrops of the channel, overlooking the surrounding flatlands, looked dark and terrible in the setting sun, and the proud tower in the center of the castle, like the genitals of a young man, stood proudly in front of the jealous and hateful old man.

We rode up to the castle and asked to be admitted in the name of King Arthur of Castle Carpenter Lott.

So the drawbridge was lowered, and we rode across it and through the castle gate to the inner part of the town, where Mrs. Morgana was waiting for us.

She was indeed a saucy beauty, and I couldn’t help but mutter in my mind as I stared at the flamboyant woman.

Why doesn’t such a beautiful woman find a young samurai to marry, when she can be as happy as she deserves to be?

“Good night, my Mrs. Morgana,” I said to the ground, saluting the individual, and attentively kissing her outstretched hand.

When I looked up at her again, I noticed a flush on her face, what was going on?

I can’t really imagine.

“Good night, Rise Below,” the beautiful burgomaster replied, bowing deeply, so that I could see the tightly circumscribed bulging breasts with their necklines open low.

It’s as if I think she did it on purpose.

Then she gave me a surprising kiss on my wrinkled forehead like my daughters, before summoning the servants to take my luggage to my bedchamber.

My bedroom was lavishly furnished, with a large bed in the center of the room, covered with bas-relief carvings that were extremely interesting and titillating to look at: a stag and a doe in heat, a unicorn with huge genitals, and underneath the horns were half-naked nymphs with exotic orchids in their hands.

Due to the strain of traveling, I just lay down on the soft, feather-filled mattress and let my thoughts fly free.

The reliefs were evocative, and I thought of my life and the women I had conquered when I was a young, strong king.

I have courted and slept with many women, from the kitchen maid, my milkmaid, to noble ladies and princesses of high birth.

It is with a happy heart that I remember my first experience, when I was a sixteen year old boy.

My parents were anxious to equip me with the ability to assume the duties of a groom before they planned to arrange a grand wedding for me to a neighboring princess.

Knowing in their hearts that I was inexperienced in the affairs of men and women, they decided to find Mrs. Bronwyn, the wife of the Court of Justice, a woman older than me, at my father’s court, to instruct me.

I was naturally ignorant of what was going on in the shadows, so when my mother suggested that I visit Mrs. Bronwyn for music and dance lessons, I naively assumed that they were calling me to learn music and dance.

When I arrived at Mrs. Bronwyn’s apartment, I was surprised to find that she had dismissed all the servants and was awaiting my arrival.

She was wearing only a thin Chinese silk robe, which clearly reflected the outline of her nipples on her double chambers, as well as her tiny waist, her deeply rounded hips, and even the tuft of hair that protruded slightly from her lower abdomen.

I was definitely blushing scarlet.

The lady smiled and put her cold, snow-white arm on mine and said, “Don’t be nervous, my young prince. I promise no one will harm you, today, you will only get happy.”

I stared up at her face, feeling myself on the verge of drowning in the fall waves of her black eyes.

But I was just trying to drown in it.

“Can we have class now?”

I stammered under my breath, not realizing in my mind that I hadn’t been called here today to learn dance steps.

“Ha, you’re quite the hotheaded student!”

Mrs. Bronwyn smiled and said, “But don’t move, and make sure that I can teach you all that I know, so that you will learn everything you need to know about how to fulfill your duties as prince and groom.”

“Do I put on my dancing shoes now?” I asked, still naively.

“You don’t need to wear anything more,” she replied, “on the contrary, you are wearing far too much, let me help you out of these heavy outer garments.”

She casually began to undo my sash, and I stood frozen in place, at her mercy.

In fact, I was beginning to wish she’d hurry up and take off my clothes so I could stand naked in front of her.

I was a little baffled, but I suddenly wished I could stand naked in front of this woman with quivering breasts and fire-breathing eyes.

I certainly know the games I can play with my dick.

I’ve long since discovered that it’s a joy to entice the guy to get hard and then rub it until it gratefully squirts out a puddle of sticky stuff.

I’ve often speculated what it would be like to lick it with my mouth but, alas, I’m no acrobat and, being the shy boy that I am, I’m too shy to seek joy by putting it into someone else’s lips.

At the moment, I went back to imagining what it would be like to put my manhood into soft lips, only, this time I was thinking of Mrs. Bronwyn’s lips.

Finally, I stripped naked and stood in front of her, my meaty arrow bouncing up and down on my belly.

I stared at her torso in front of me, hidden beneath her light blue silk dress.

“You are a handsome young man,” Mrs. Bronwyn said approvingly, her soft hands caressing my shoulders and chest.

“The body is in great shape and pleasing to the eye. Do you want to know what I look like and feel like to touch?”

“What… what do you mean by that?” I asked offhandedly.

My face reddened even more as I had caught on to what she was saying.

“Watch and learn.” Mrs. Bronwyn returned.

Then she undressed in front of me in the blink of an eye, and I realized that she was only wearing a blue silk dress with no shirt or underwear underneath.

Her skin was a pinkish-white color, very beautiful, and I had never seen it before.

I couldn’t look her in the eye, let alone touch her.

But she grabbed my timid hand and guided it to her breast, letting my fingers caress the rose-heart nipple.

As my fingers caressed her warm skin and explored her body, she gave a soft gasp not knowing if it was a sound of surprise, or pleasure.

My other hand was grabbed by Mrs. Bronwyn and slid down over her bulging soft belly to the dark delta of pubic hair.

I mooched the smooth brown curls, and before long, she let my hand continue to slide, letting the edge of my palm slide between its thighs and into the hidden palace of pleasure.

To keep the path clear, she spread her legs slightly apart, so my trembling hand slipped easily into this specialized channel.

The sudden excitement and lust made me dizzy, and the sensations were like wild horses running left and right through my defenseless body.

I was shocked and delighted as irresistible lust took over my body and mind, shattering my resolve to keep my manners, and making my heart race.

At the moment, I longed for Mrs. Bronwyn to teach me the rhythm of my breathing, the music of my kisses and the dance of joyous love in which she mingled with me.

“Don’t be afraid,” whispered Mrs. Bronwyn Corner.

Noticing the trembling of my hand pressed against her secret place, she took the flask from the table, poured some wine into a cup made of antlers, and said, “Go ahead, drink it down, and you’ll feel relieved.”

Though I was almost always a drop of alcohol, I picked up my glass and put it to my lips, taking a drink.

Bronwyn added a glass and I took another sip.

My brain was suddenly floating like it was on the water, but I felt better, I had added courage now, and was ready to tear it up.

Bronwyn lay down on the edge of the bed with her legs apart and asked me to kneel in front of her and put my hands on her curly brown triangle.

“Do whatever you want,” she said softly.

“Explore the depths of my body and I will guide you.” I panicked and looked forward to her wonderful jade body, a sight I had never dreamed of, this playground belonging to my childish fingers.

I began to stroke Bronwen’s brown curls and leaned in close to savor the aroma of a human being: the scent of her pussy and rose perfume, more intoxicating than any kind of wine.

“Kiss it, kiss it,” Bronwyn drummed into me, getting herself up off the bed and half-laying, half-sitting, hooking my head and pressing it into her hairy about-triangle.

“Breathe in the scent and let you drift to the music of my flesh, the music of love.”

I buried my head in her curls and inhaled her body odor deeply, and like smelling the candle flames and listening to marvelous music in a cathedral, my heart and my soul soared to heaven.

I was already in a state of flutter, my own instrument tuned and ready to play the distinctive sweet tones that would harmonize with Mrs. Bronwyn’s matching instrument.

My lovely flute has risen up, leaning proudly against its belly, praying for a guard, lip or oyster to start its musical sound.

I stuck out my tongue and  went into the curly bush.

I was immediately rewarded with a grateful sigh for this action, so I was emboldened and determined to see what other notes I could play.

I explored Mrs. Bronwyn’s private parts with my fingers, and it was truly an open flower, with two large, secret-scented petals that opened up to reveal the nectar-flowing heart inside.

I couldn’t wait to lick the liquid inside and found it to be sweet and flavorful.

I continued my search with my tongue and unexpectedly came across a hard little bud of flesh, like a stamen, and as my tongue slid over it, Mrs. Bronwyn grunted so loudly that I thought I had hurt her, and I stepped back, not knowing what to do.

“Uh, no! No!” , she cried, “Don’t stop, I beg you! You’ve found the source of my music, just a few more strokes and you’ll know its wonderful music!”

I let go of that and concentrated on seeking the pleasure I had before me, licking gently at that little bud of flesh as my fingers continued to explore.

I found a hole that seemed very small, but after stroking it a few times I felt it grow larger and larger, and to my extreme surprise and excitement I found it swallowing about three of my fingers effortlessly, ah! What a beautiful song my Mrs. Bronwyn sang under my touch!

It was as if I felt like an extremely skillful and passionate entertainer, playing heavenly wonders on a golden seven-stringed lute.

I was frozen with fear when Mrs. Bronwyn fell on the bed with a yelp.

All I could feel was her hole like a soft ring around my finger, opening and closing, and liquid with a strange scent squirted out of it, drenching my hand and tongue.

I shrank back from Mrs. Bronwyn and got into bed and crawled over to her, a little worried that I had somehow hurt her or done something I shouldn’t have.

“My Mrs. Bronwyn, what has caused you so much pain?” I asked her anxiously.

However, she opened her eyes and smiled sweetly at me, she then laughed aloud, “Lovely Uriens, don’t you realize what you’ve done?”

I shook my head dully.

“You have given me, the sweetest gift a man can give a woman: an orgasm. You played the most wonderful piece of music on me, and there are so many more to come!”

Seeing that I obviously still didn’t understand, she continued, “Have you ever tweaked your own body for pleasure?…”

I’m blushing.

“You’ve certainly gotten it. You’ve rubbed it on this little flute of yours until it spews out the sweetest music.”

So she took my rock hard cock and rubbed it.

“So you know now, then, that a woman can play sweet music on her own body too, and the little bud of flesh you just licked, and the slippery channel of the letter you buried your fingers in are the keys to this wonderful music, the strings on the harp.”

Suddenly, I felt crumpled, and out of my body, I squirted all my pleasure into Bronwyn’s belly.

“Call, I’m so sorry!” I called out.

I was blushing with shame by the time the last drop of cum spurted out.

“Why be ashamed of something so natural and beautiful?”

Bronwyn had me lay down on the bed with my face toward the base of my feet, spreading my legs and kneeling on my stomach.

Before I could react to what was going on, she swallowed my still rock hard cock into her mouth, bringing it back to full strength.

Never in my young life have I seen an artiste who could play such perfect music on this instrument, and Mrs. Bronwyn played it on my flute of flesh.

Ah! Now I’m the one singing.

It was as if she could sense that I was about to give out, and just as my sperm was about to converge at the root of my shaft, she retracted the lips that had brought me such pleasure, and I was disappointed.

I wondered in my mind if she was going to deprive me of my second orgasm of pleasure.

I could sense that this one was going to be more intense than the first, however, my fears were redundant, she had other, more exciting ways of venturing out.

She gently put her arms around me and kissed me passionately before asking me to climb on top of her.

She reached under my stomach with one hand, grabbed my meaty arrow and guided it to her hole.

Not so much clumsy as willingly at her mercy, I rushed into her as she guided me, letting out a gasp of arousal as I entered her moist, wet, hot body.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!”

Bronwyn exclaimed as her hands gripped my hips tightly, controlling the rhythm of my pumping so that it was slow and loose, so that I wouldn’t let out too early and ruin her pleasure.

I felt the heavens spinning, up and down on Mrs. Bronwyn’s body.

She was my first woman, and this was my first time having sex with someone.

We sang sacred harmonic songs as we journeyed together to the pinnacle of joy.

However, I gasped and lay on her stomach, resting my head on her wonderfully soft breasts until Mrs. Bronwyn aroused me again and we both resumed playing our instruments.

I was awakened from my sleep by the sound of a beeping on the door of my dormitory room, and I called out in a daze, “Come in.”

The door was pushed open at once, and in stepped Mrs. Morgana, a blood-red velvet tunic sheet wrapped tightly around her body, framing the bulging, jade-lipsticked, breasts.

She was holding a candle.

By now it had turned dark outside, and the candlelight cast grotesque shadows over my bed, so that the wood-carved nymph at the foot of it seemed to quicken her flight to escape from her dreaded pursuers, and the unicorn seemed to shoot out an evil light in the dim light.

“Good night, Rise Down,” whispered the lovely Morgana.

It was as if she had slid into the room, moving with gentle, smooth motions.

She was long-limbed and tall, with an elegance that reminded me of the Queen when I was married many years ago.

I was amazed to find that I no longer felt fatigued.

I have never been so well rested in recent years as I am today I feel energized and strong, as if I were back in my youth.

Ah! Is this bed magic?

The naked erotic wood carvings seem to transmit magic to the sleeping man, evoking within him desires from years ago and the ability to fulfill them.

Ah, I found that for the first time in many years the softly drooping phallus within my robes was revitalized and eager to salute the beauty, Mrs. Morgana.

But it was unthinkable and impossible that I was already an old man and she was a beauty, a woman who had lost a loved one not so long ago. Besides, I had lost my desire for flesh years ago.

Mrs. Morgana placed the candle on the wooden closet and then sat down on the edge of the bed where I lay, my whole body trembling from fear.

“So like my dear father who went away,” she murmured, as she put my hand to her lips.

“You know, we are so close. But, alas: there are so many games that he cannot play with me only because he and I are father and daughter. Yet you, my dear King Uriens, are not my father.”

Hearing her say that immediately alerted me.

What game did this young woman want her father to play with her?

And what magic had she cast over me that my tired old thing was actually so eager to meet her, and my body looked forward to her exploring and kissing it to the peak of arousal?

“My father was a scholar,” Mrs. Morgana continued, stroking my hand.

Her moon feldspar ring sparkled and seemed to burn with fire inside, causing me to fly off into the abyss.

“He taught me everything in the world, taught me science and alchemy and the deep arts. I spent my days with him, learning at his knee, and that is why I never married. Your Majesty, I have never met a man who could match the beauty of my dear father. But you… you are so like him.”

“I… I’m tired of hating.”

I’m not very articulate and I don’t know how to get out of my current predicament as decently as possible.

“Traveling has exhausted me,” I lied, expecting her to understand and leave me.

“I want to rest.”

“Call, my dear king,” cried Morgana, “have you not recovered from sleeping in my father’s bed? This bed is very effective in helping people to restore their minds and strength, the mattress is covered with a secret magic herb wormwood, the bed is carved from aromatic trees, each carved picture has a special charm and restorative effect, if you have not recovered, you must be extremely tired.”

I felt a sly look in her eyes as she looked at me, it seemed that I had failed to hide my interest in her from the folds of my robe where my erect manhood could be clearly seen, I had a feeling that this woman seemed to have powers that no mortal would have, and to that I was powerless.

Whatever Morgana wanted, she could do that night, whether I wanted it or not.

Now Morgana began to grope her way up my body.

Starting gently and carefully, the presses grew bolder and more provocative.

“Look!”

She stroked my ankles and exclaimed excitedly, “These ankles are just like my father’s… and the calves. Your legs are so beautiful, strong and slender, so delicate.”

She gently lifted my robe and pulled it up to my waist.

I had no intention of resisting this woman’s temptation, despite my doubts, and just lay motionless, letting her lift my robe upward and then trash it away from my head.

At the same time, I couldn’t help but love what the ground was doing…

“Ah, you’re so handsome!” Morgana exclaimed.

I was laughing in my mind, realizing that I was an old man now, and that my body had long since ceased to be what it had been when I was young.

“Can I kiss such a beautiful body?”

Without waiting for me to answer, Mrs. Morgana bent down and began to gently kiss my limbs, my arms, and my chest.

“Father loved to have me kiss his skin,” Morgana explained, “It was hot and tiring working in the alchemy room, and at the end of the day, he used to lie down on this very bed and ask me to cool him down by kissing his body with my lips and tongue, and it was wonderful. However, her tongue neither calmed nor cooled my body, but, on the contrary, both aroused in me a more intense desire.”

As the mood heated up, my poor, forgotten fleshy arrow tried to lift, but in vain, for though she gently objected around my manhood, she did not touch that most secure of private parts.

Morgana, as if she had read my mind, looked up at me and said, “Alas, there is only one thing that my father will not allow me to do for him, or I dare swear he would have gotten more solace than he would have gotten from any other way of service. But you will let me do this for you, won’t you? I don’t want you to suffer the same fate as my father, asc…”

I shivered in fear, what did she mean by that: did she mean me harm?

Was her father definitely killed in battle? Or was it a deliberate attempt to spread the word around to cover up the truth of the evil?

I didn’t even have a chance to think about this in detail, and that’s because Mrs. Morgana had already mounted me like a mink and taken my manhood into her mouth, torturing it with her lips and tongue on one side while massaging my balls with her fingers leaking into red nails on the other.

I can’t remember how many years ago it was, and I now feel the semen rising in my testicles anew, the smooth round sack bulging, about to dispense its bounty.

As my cum gushed like a fountain into Morgana’s mouth, I felt as if a bright star had exploded in my mind, and I passed out on the bed as a wonderful wave of pleasure hit me.

By the time I opened my eyes, Morgana was gone.

It was only because I was still completely naked that I remembered what had happened with Morgana.

The night was cool, and I dug into the sheet, pulling it up to my chin and wrapping myself tightly.

The candles had been extinguished, and the house was dark, except for the pale moonlight, which passed through the windows and gave the room a strange sheen.

I don’t know if I’m awake or unconscious, I just feel adrift in a weird world of strange ghostly figures who don’t know if they’re happy or evil, or dead or alive.

As I gazed up at the stars in the sky, the window opened, only to see a large black shadow blocking out the moonlight, and as this black shadow came closer, I could see that it was a large bat.

It flew into the window and hovered over my bed like it was coming to deliver a letter to me.

Just as I was looking at it in horror, I seemed to see the bat suddenly disappear, leaving behind it a white cloud that grew larger and larger until it was a man’s height, and the mists gradually dissipated into an old man, white-bearded and naked, with only a purple-shirted tree-ring hanging from his brow, and his genitals sticking straight up and in his hand he held a heavy, black talisman.

The old man raised his right hand, pointed his finger at me, and opened his mouth, which had lost its teeth, and said to me, “Be careful, King Uriens! Beware of what fate the sorceress Morgana will bring upon you. She is a lustful woman, and her desires are never-ending. She will drain your blood, old man, as she drained her father’s.”

The shadow streak disappeared again, and I was left alone in the room again, speculating on the oddity of the old man’s words.

The next day, I tried to avoid Mrs. Morgana as much as possible, and busied myself with dispatching my men and things and setting up camp in my new home.

But in the evening she came to see me and tenderly begged me to come to her studio, where she was continuing her late father’s work.

I didn’t dare to ask her how her father actually died for fear that the truth would be different.

Morgana’s work choked in a cellar beneath Maris Castle, connected to the sea by a subterranean funnel that had been a conduit of escape for the bandits and the besieged castle guards.

I saw Morgana hard at work at a fondue pot filled with a metallic solution that bubbled.

As I approached her, she was using a blacksmith’s poker to hold the fondue pot from the hot coals and pouring the metal liquid into a small mold.

After cooling, I noticed that the metal gave off a yellowish sheen.

“Gold!” I exclaimed.

Morgana smiled.

“Gold indeed, Your Majesty, for my father discovered the famous art of gold-pointing. Now the secret belongs to you, and you are now the new master of Maris Castle. The secret belongs to you alone as long as you stay with me in my father’s place.”

She looked at me with burning eyes and I felt myself weakening, unable to keep my eyes open.

Then, all I knew was that I lay down on the cold stone floor of the studio and Morgana forced me to swallow a few drops of a bitter liquid.

When I woke up, I couldn’t tell where I was at the beginning.

My head was buzzing, so I shook my head but the voice wouldn’t shake it off:I opened my eyes and it was pitch black, but the moonlight illuminated everything around me.

I was lying naked on a sea spread below the cliffs, with Maris Castle looming above me.

Standing over me was Mrs. Morgana, who was also undressed, her long black hair falling loose over her shoulders and back so that her moving breasts seemed to burst out of the black cloud of wool curled around them, a black cloud as black as her soul.

She chanted strange sentences in a language I couldn’t understand, but as she spoke, an impulsive desire rose up in my lower body, and my manhood stood erect, worshipping its Mistress like a hobgoblin.

I struggled a bit, but my arms and legs were like lead, I couldn’t move at all.

All his mind could think about was what it was like to be inside Morgana’s young body, and what it felt like to squirt in her mouth last night.

“My dear King Uriens,” murmured Morgano, staring at me with bright charcoal-colored eyes.

“I finally got you. But not your poor thing, let’s see what we can do.”

Then she bent down and increased the head of the abomination seeking penis with a willow branch and spoke another strange incantation that made me feel hot blood rushing and semen pooling in my lower body.

So, my manhood immediately began to grow larger.

At first, it could only quite list the navel, but gradually became thick and long, until it became as thick as a man’s wrist and as long as an inch and a foot.

I then screamed in surprise and delight.

I felt disgusted on the one hand to see it so big, but on the other hand, the marvelous pleasure was as unusual as the size of the phallus, and it was really as if I had fallen into a heavenly hell of wonderful desires.

The sorceress Morgana then wasted no time in straddling my body with her powerful limbs, and I expected my large head of meaty arrows to impale her, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that she effortlessly braced her body to accept my manhood, swallowing it by the roots.

I thought for sure I was going to hurt her, but she gruffly laughed and gleefully rode my meat arrow.

I was too old to do anything but move with her rotten up and down, and in no time I was shooting huge loads of cum into her.

“More! More!” She called out.

“I’m done cumming,” I begged, “I’m old I can’t do it again!”

However, Morgana was relentless and bent down to fill me with three more drops of the bitter potion, and my fleshy arrows suddenly became even more virile, my testicles so full of sperm that they were about to swell and crack.

She climbed on top of me again and I felt my meaty arrow slide into work her belly again.

Morgana gave me three more orgasms, and we echoed our excitement.

But I’m an old man, and after each orgasm, I feel my vitality waning, my pulse wailing.

I knew in my heart that she would ride me until she rode me to death, until my heart broke, until I exhaled my last breath in the face of the cold, wet sand.

At that very moment, I looked up in the sky and saw a bat hovering over our heads, it lurched in the air and then swooped down at us as if it wanted to hurt us.

Morgana screamed in anger and leapt to her feet, using both hands to pounce on the bat while I took the opportunity to look for a way to escape.

I turned around, excited to find a silver sword on the beach, and ruffled it in my hand.

The sword was light, but the blade was horribly sharp.

I glanced at Morgana, only to see the bat swoop down on her neck as if it were going to bite her and suck her dry.

I knew I should have taken this opportunity to escape, or rather to have the bat butcher Morgana the Sorceress.

But when I thought of the joy of being with her, I probed my sword and chopped at the bat, stabbing it to the ground when it was already dying.

It was hair-raising to see that as soon as the bat’s body fell on the beach it became an old man, with a self-white beard, completely naked, and carrying only a yew tree ring.

The old man’s eyes widened for a moment, and he said to me slowly and gratefully, “Bless you, it was you who helped me gain my final release.”

Then he fell on his back on the beach and died.

“Father?” Morgana screamed as she pounced on the corpse and kissed it furiously.

“What on earth have I done ah? I just want to keep you locked up for a while until you realize that my desires aren’t a bad thing!”

So I turned and fled, back to the Hearing Hole below the cliffs, and escaped from Maris Castle, vowing never to go there again.