Storm Knight

It was a stormy night. Thick, dark clouds gathered on the horizon, foreshadowing
a blizzard . Lightning flashed intermittently, illuminating the castle's high towers, a massive stone tower
surrounded by thick walls. The castle appeared impregnable, impervious to any enemy or hostile force
.

This was Camelot Castle.

A raging night wind tore at the stone walls outside the hall, howling against the windows. Snowflakes drifted down,
swirling like frenzied dancers in the icy air. Inside the hall, King Arthur and his eight most beloved knights sat around
a large round table.

They were anxious, for the magician Merlin had disappeared. He was King Arthur's guardian and
the kingdom 's magical protector. He had been gone from Camelot Castle for weeks, and no one knew where he had gone.
Only his fading magic spells warned them of his peril.
The magical barrier he had erected around the castle was growing weaker day by day. Camelot Castle would soon be completely unprotected, exposed to the evil
magic of its adversaries.

Merlin, wherever he was, was surely in mortal danger; he had to be
rescued .

"Holy knights of the Great Round Table, I command you to open your eyes wide, prick up your ears, and heed my words
. For tonight you will learn a shocking truth:
the decay ."

The voice pierced the mist, like a cold flame, both fiery and alluring, yet carrying an
eternally seductive chill.

The knights looked around, but saw nothing—only shadows flickering on the cold stone walls, and
restless horses on the carpet behind the platform where Arthur's crown lay.

Finally, they saw. A shadow, darker than its surroundings, initially seemingly invisible,
slowly materialized into the figure of a tall woman. She wore a thick veil, her naked body draped only in a
black velvet cloak shimmering with gold and silver stars.

"Halt!" King Arthur cried, leaping towards his trusted sword, Excalibur. "Who's
there? What evil have you brought?"

The woman turned to face Arthur, raising her arm and speaking in the same cold yet seductive voice, "Sit down,
you can't hurt me."

Arthur felt a tremendous force grip his shoulders, forcing him back down.
His knights writhed in their seats, struggling to rise and grab their swords, but found themselves powerless to defend themselves.
They could only stare helplessly at the magnificent body before them, yearning to touch it, to gaze a little longer at those full breasts,
those firm brown nipples. And those smooth, powerful thighs, enough to drive any man mad. Even
the holy Knights of the Round Table were no exception.

"Struggling is futile. You are now under my control. Your sorcerer Merlin can no longer protect
you ."

"What did you say? You know where Merlin is? What evil magic have you cast on him?"
King Arthur shouted.

"Look into the crystal ball and you'll see."

The veiled woman placed a large crystal ball in the center of the table. She
shook it a few times with her hands, each adorned with a bell, while softly chanting a spell. King Arthur and his knights seemed to see a
wisp of mist swirling deep within the crystal ball, gradually separating to reveal two naked human figures frolicking on a pile of fur.

The naked woman, veiled and completely naked, sat astride the naked man, his
strong phallus hidden within her. The woman rode the man excitedly, and the man cried out in pleasure. The knights
gazed into the crystal ball, and the man's face grew clearer and clearer. They realized it was the robust, imposing face
of a middle-aged man —the face Merlin had shown before he left them.

As they looked, the scene inside the crystal ball changed. Now the man was on top of the woman, licking her body,
two fingers probing his vulva. His face seemed to have aged, and his hair had turned gray.

The scenes kept changing. With each change, Merlin appeared older, his vitality fading.

Eventually, he seemed to become an ugly old man, only able to lie beneath his lover, letting her suckle him until
he reached climax.

"You wretched witch, what have you done? What have you done to Merlin?" Galahad
cried .

"It's a trick," King Arthur warned. "She showed us this to disturb our
minds ; nothing more, beware of women's deceptions."

"It's not a trick," the veiled woman replied. "If you don't believe what you just saw,
surely you will believe what's before you?"

She turned to face the hall's door, raising her arm. Two crossed beams of light flashed from her fingertips.

The door opened, and snow rushed into the hall. In the snow, a hunched, short figure leaning on a cane
appeared in the doorway, barely larger than a shrunken bundle.

"Merlin!" King Arthur gasped, barely recognizing his guardian.

The withered old man shuffled into the hall, raising his tear-filled eyes to look at the veiled
witch . His voice was hoarse and weak, "My Queen, what can I do for you?"

"Stand before the King."

The old man shuffled to where King Arthur sat.

"Is it Merlin?"

"Touch him and you'll know it is him," the witch urged.

King Arthur did as she said. He knew it was indeed Merlin, the wizard, but he had become so unrecognizable,
so old. He breathed heavily, almost unable to stand. The witch offered him a seat, and he gratefully sat on the steps
leading to the throne, his hands trembling.

“My dear, I did as you said,” he gasped. “Now suckle my penis;
it longs for you.”

“In a moment. First, tell the king how you became like this.”

“This magnificent witch has conquered me. She seduced me and became my lover. Now she
controls my desires, and I am completely subdued. Every time she satisfies me, I become weaker.
My strength is exhausted. Yet, when she kisses my penis, letting me swim in her warm, nourishing paradise, I cannot
resist.”

The king was shocked. “Is there no way to save you? Is there no way to bring you back to me and restore you?”
"Is he still strong enough?"

"There is only one way," the witch replied. "I am tired of him. He is exhausted and can no longer rouse
my spirit. I want someone to replace him. Your knight may volunteer to be my lover. But be careful
not to give yourself rashly, for you have already seen the result of my insatiable love. Whoever sleeps in my
bed will never appear in these palaces again. I will exhaust his energy and vitality."

"I volunteer!" Sir Kay cried.

"Me too!" the volunteer's voice echoed in the hall.

"Please be patient!" the witch whispered. "Haha, so willing to die in my arms. But there's
one more condition, which I must choose myself, and my method is quite peculiar. I require you to do
this : each of you must recount your most exciting sexual experience. I will use this method to determine who is most worthy to be
my lover. The poor sorcerer can then return to your side. Begin now, quickly, time is limited, and you must
see him aging."

"I'll go first!" Lancelot exclaimed. "It
would be . I will tell you how I conquered the beautiful Elena, how I
rescued her from a ferocious dragon. I will tell you how, upon parting, she was filled with gratitude and wanted to offer herself to me as a farewell gift."

He secretly calculated: No problem, only I know the truth. A harmless little
lie can turn my seduction story into a perfectly legitimate praise of this triumphant experience. Who else but me would
know the truth?

He never imagined that misfortune would befall him just as he was about to lie.

"Excellent, Sir Lancelot! You may begin. But first, let me place my hand on your
shoulder ; you will feel my touch bring you inspiration."

The witch's hand gently rested on Sir Lancelot's shoulder, and instantly, Lancelot felt a tremendous
force pierce through his body, like a lightning bolt striking his flesh, seeking a passage into the earth. The witch's
soft and sensual body pressed against his back, and his penis stood erect like a mast. However,
when he opened his mouth to speak, he realized how powerful the hand on his shoulder was; its power
surged .

He could not lie; he could only tell the truth.

(I) The Story of Sir Lancelot and Lady Elena

I terrified the maids in my mother's house when I was born. From birth, my penis was astonishingly large.

My poor mother, seeing this, burst into tears, saying that I would never find a woman of noble birth
to marry, for they would never offer their virginity to this enormous flesh arrow of mine.

But my father and his knights scoffed at these foolish worries, vowing that any
woman , prostitute or noblewoman, I could conquer if I so desired.

Good heavens! As I grew older, I gradually realized that my mother's worries might not be unfounded. I
grew up with my two orphaned cousins, under my father's guardianship, and our relationship grew increasingly close. One summer when I was
sixteen , we played some rather illicit games in my father's cherry orchard.

Algerwis was seventeen, and her sister Olavi was sixteen. Although of noble birth, my father gave
them an open-minded education.

He knew that without a dowry, it would be impossible to find a good marriage, so, to avoid this
expense, he secretly hoped that one of them would conceive a child with an honest farmer and become his
wife, thus saving him the trouble of paying.

I knew the two sisters were no longer virgins, because they often boasted about their experiences to me. I couldn't help but yearn for
having sex with them... At that moment, I loathed my own virginity.

It was a hot summer afternoon, and we were resting under the trees in the orchard after picking cherries. Because
we had been greedily eating cherries while working, our hands and mouths were covered in cherry syrup.

The tenant farmers had all gone back to get 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 snapped open, and
we started playing . As we played and frolicked, we grew bolder, and our playfulness became less innocent and
a little lewd.

"Look!"

Algeries cried, pulling her sister forward and lifting her skirt, "There are two
juicy we forgot to pick!" She gently bit her sister's bare buttocks.

The scene ignited my desire, and to save myself from burning shame, my young and energetic member
rose between my legs, seemingly begging me to release it and unleash its passion.

Finally, Olavi, almost breathless with laughter, broke free from her sister, her blonde hair cascading loosely over her snow-white
shoulders.

"Hey, where are your two big pears?" she asked, untying Algeries's tight bodice and revealing
a pair of magnificent breasts.

Although Algeries was still young, her breasts were already very full, like two ripe
peaches , mouthwatering.

"Nobody wants to taste these two delicious peaches? Then I'll taste them myself!"

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

I noticed Algeries's breathing quicken, her legs gradually parting, as if
clearing a path for something to arrive. At that moment, my deprived penis was struggling to break free of my pants, only my
extra-long , tight pants concealing the two sisters' fixed gazes. But how could I escape?

"Hey, little Lancelot, don't you have anything to attract us, anything to fascinate us?"

Algerie asked without any pretense, sitting opposite me, spreading her legs. Her skirt had been rolled up to her knees while
climbing the tree to pick fruit: this way, I could feast my eyes on Algerie's generously displayed beauty...
all the wonderful things gathered at the moist, dark triangle on the inside of her alluring thighs.

"What do you want me to show you?"

I replied, my mouth dry and a little apprehensive—I had never let any
woman .

"I don't have any juicy pears, and my peaches aren't anything special."

"Brother, we want to see that long, sap-laden branch that stretches between your legs,"
Olavi replied.

Before I could react, the two girls pounced on me, ripping open my wool leggings and
exposing my genitals completely to the midday sun.

After a terrible silence, the two girls screamed and began to sob silently.

"What's wrong with you?"

I asked, but immediately realized why they were crying.

"Never...never seen anything so big and thick!"

Algeries cried out. "I swear I can't put that thing inside me. It will
tear my tender vulva like a ripe fig, and the wound will never heal."

"My sister is telling the truth," Olavi said. "Dear Lancelot, listen to me,
no noblewoman can withstand the test of that thing between your thighs. When we were children, our mother told
us that noblewomen's bodies are delicate and small. Something as big as yours will definitely tear our tender
flesh apart."

In utter disappointment, I looked down at my own manhood, cursing its abnormal size. Why
must I suffer this grotesque pain? Alas, I may never find a woman willing to accept it.
Suddenly , I fell into despair.

Fortunately, the two sisters were understanding and didn't abandon me, leaving my unsatisfied penis to suffer
alone . They had another way. They made me lie on my side, Algerwis knelt in front of me, and Olavi knelt
behind me. Then, they began to caress me passionately, and I immediately let out a groan of pleasure.

Algerwis stroked my spear with her hand, vigorously rubbing it back and forth, her own bare breasts
dancing like butterflies on her chest. I played with my breasts, rubbing my nipples with my fingers, sucking on them like a helpless infant
.

At the same time, Olavi's hand slipped in from behind,
boldly . Her sharp index finger suddenly pierced that forbidden back door, and my face instantly turned bright red
. I couldn't help but cry out in excitement, my whole body trembling. With a satisfied cry, I ejaculated onto
Algeries ' hands and breasts.

Then, the three of us lay on the ground, embracing each other.

For a long time, we caressed and laughed, spending our forbidden time together—until the two girls leaped
up and said they would demonstrate to me how women can satisfy themselves.

How wonderful! They spread their legs, their fingers pressing on their clitoris, digging in and out, one hand
kneading their already hard nipples until they were even firmer.

But how I wished they would let me inside them! For I had longed to
lose my virginity in a woman's lubricated hole.

A week later, as I passed the barn, my father's cook called to me. She was there collecting
eggs for dinner.

"Hello, young sir," she smiled.

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

"Hello, Freya!"

I replied, embarrassed to find my manhood already swollen. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm collecting eggs, sir," she answered, "but you know how tedious it is.

I can't help but wonder if I'd rather play somersaults with you in the haystacks."

Her frankness startled me, but I wasn't afraid at all. If anything, my manhood swelled even more when
I heard her say such lewd things.

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

I dismounted, tied the horse to the side of the barn, and followed Freya into the cold, dark barn. Inside ,
only the squawking of chickens running around in the haystacks could be heard; it was filthy and reeked of chicken droppings, but I
didn't care . Perhaps in this dim light, it would be too late for her to realize my manhood was too big.

As soon as we entered the barn, Freya turned around, her back to me, and asked me to help her undress. I trembled as I tried to
undo her coarse cloth tunic, finally managing to loosen the straps. She flung
my pulled the tunic and linen shirt down to her hips, leaving them on the barn floor, and
turned to me. She smiled at me—a straightforward, honest smile of a country girl, an expression of undisguised devotion
.

Since Freya was willing to grant my request, I hastily pulled down my clothes in front of her. However, deep within me remained an innate unease, a unease amplified
by my recent experience with the Algeries sisters . I managed to remove my tunic, shirt, and riding boots, leaving only my tight trousers, already imagining the young woman's reaction: surprise, excuses, refusal, or even escape. But I felt I couldn't . My manhood was pounding like a beast's heart, and I knew I had to have this girl. I also knew the barn wasn't too dark, and nothing I did would escape Freya's sharp eyes . She would see the splendor of my manhood; what would her reaction be? I could only leave it to fate. As my enormous penis slowly emerged, I heard Freya's joyful cry: " My God ! Your instrument is magnificent!" She knelt down, kissing it reverently. "It's incredible! I've never seen anything so big. Those delicate ladies would be torn in two by this spear." "But... what about you?" I asked hastily. "Aren't you afraid to sleep with me? Aren't you afraid I'll tear you in two?" Freya smiled sweetly and shook her head. "Girls born lowly, whether milkmaids or prostitutes , are trained in the grass and haystacks. They learn to suck that penis every day and become very skilled at it. However, I believe that those noble ladies are afraid of the big ones and only dare to have the small ones because the small ones are easier to enter and exit. The poor ladies are deceived; they don't know how pleasurable it is to be filled and overflowing with love juice. They are afraid that your big penis will hurt them. I think they are right; they are so delicate and fragile, and their lower lips are as tightly closed as their cherry-like mouths." She pulled my head down and kissed me. I felt her lips were soft and sexy, and I secretly hoped that her vulva was just as full. I had finally found a woman who wanted me with pleasure rather than fear.

Freya laughed as she lay back on the haystack, pulling me onto her. I excitedly leaped onto her.

I was young then, and my desire was too intense; before I could make any further moves, I plunged into her
alluring, moist vulva.

Freya encouraged me excitedly, and my member barely managed to slide in, the tight grip feeling incredibly pleasurable
. I thrust hard, and she responded. I brought her pleasure!

I had thought I would never experience this kind of pleasure again, and after a few rapid thrusts, I ejaculated.

I knew I was still young, and with just a short rest, I could attack her vulva again.

This time, I placed one hand between her thighs and kneaded her soft breasts with the other, bringing her to
orgasm . When I ejaculated a second time, her fingernails dug into my back.

From that day on, I vowed never to sleep with any lady or noblewoman again; I couldn't bear the humiliation of
being rejected . I swore to only make love to women of low birth, women who had tasted
the penises of many men, who would welcome the passionate, fierce thrusts of my enormous weapon. But I had no serious plans
to deal with Lady Elena.

Ten years after Freya had turned me into a man, I had the privilege of spending a few days at Edenthorpe Manor
. In this northern land, the king had just subjugated his lawless people to his laws.

Edenthorpe was a gift from the king to Sir Bosch, the king's most trusted knight, whose
wife, Lady Elena, was a renowned beauty in the kingdom.

But my visit was not to admire Lady Elena's beauty; I had sworn not to associate with any woman of noble birth
.

On the first night, my companions and I dined at Sir Bosch's table on delicacies of swan and wild boar,
while Lady Elena and her ladies-in-waiting ate in the attic, a place
more suitable for them, far from the gaze of the boorish knights.

I only caught a fleeting glance at this beautiful lady, and her jealous husband, to
shield lustful gaze, ordered her to wear a veil. I still deeply regret this.

My days in Edenthorpe were pleasant, except for one thing.

Sir Bosch was a man of strict morals; he believed adultery was the root of all evil, and in his estate, anyone
found indecent would be killed without hesitation.

And I, a man of insatiable lust, needed constant satisfaction. I did not wish to defile any lady or
respectable woman; I simply desired to sleep with a milkmaid, or a lowly woman who swept the kitchen floor,
or even a traveling prostitute who roamed the villages exchanging her body for food and lodging.

But there were no such women in the lands of the noble Sir Bosch, and I began to feel that if I did not
suffocate, I would surely collapse from the lack of outlet for my desires.

However, on the third night, I received a perplexing note that
read : "Sir Lancelot, I must inform you that my husband and I are not of one mind. I believe that chivalry
should be celebrated, and that chivalry should be rewarded, not suppressed. I know you are the finest
knight in the Kingdom of Camelot. If you would grace my bedchamber with your presence at three in the morning, you will be warmly welcomed."

I knew that Lady Elena had taken a great risk in sending me these notes, and with deep regret, I
replied: "Lady Elena: I am deeply grateful for your invitation, but I cannot accept your
kindness. You will find out with a few inquiries that I only keep company with women of low birth and prostitutes. I
would never tarnish the reputation of a noble lady like yourself. Your most loyal servant. Lancelot."

I had the messenger maid take the note back to Lady Elena. The maid was plain-looking, but if
she had been willing to give it to me, I would have been delighted to share the joy with her.

Her hurried departure reminded me of how meticulous and thorough Sir Bosch was in instructing all the maids
to abstain from physical desires. I began to
regret my refusal of Lady Elena, though I knew in my heart that for the sake of my pride alone, I could not break my oath.

However, the matter was not over. That evening, another note arrived from Lady Elena. This
time , to resolve my dilemma, she offered a more acceptable solution.

"My dear Sir Lancelot: I have inquired about your situation and fully understand your predicament.
Therefore, I am not angry at your refusal. However, I would be honored if the finest knight in the kingdom could allow me
to express my admiration in a more acceptable way. If you come to my
private prayer room tonight, you will find four maids waiting for you. I trust they will grant you any request.
Their only condition is that they wear masks so that their Sir Bosch will never discover that they have acted
against his will. Please have the messenger girl deliver a reply; you can absolutely trust her."

I pondered the meaning of the note.
What if I walked into a trap set
by the jealous Sir Bosch, who wanted to find out if I was truly a pure knight in name only? Surely Lady Elena wouldn't be so reckless and foolish as to write me such a note?

But knowing I couldn't refuse, I hastily wrote on the back of the note, "I will go."

I excused myself by saying I was too tired, said goodnight, and went to bed early, but I neither undressed nor slept, fearing I would be late
.

Near midnight, I got up, crept down the steps at the back of the house, and went to the hall,
passing . Except for a dog that looked up and whimpered softly, no one woke up, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Having safely passed through the hall, I tiptoed behind the curtains obscuring the attic, passed through an empty room, and
arrived at the passageway leading to Lady Elena's private chapel. I carefully opened the door so as not to make
a sound.

At first glance, the room was empty, save for a few candles burning beside the altar, a memorial to
the knights who had perished in the recent battle.

My eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, and then I noticed several shadows moving. In fact, they
weren't shadows at all, but naked women. They emerged from the darkness and came to greet me at the door. I
quickly slipped inside and closed the door.

The women stood before me, and I could see they were indeed wearing masks. I counted them; there were five,
not the four Lady Elena had said.

I truly thanked my lucky star, my guardian angel who brought me good fortune.

Inside the room were two blondes, one with light black hair and the other with red hair, and a young woman with waist-
length hair tied into a single, glossy black braid. The women were all young and graceful, and my lower body
involuntarily began to swell.

"Greetings, Sir Lancelot," the light-haired woman said softly.

Looking at her slender, shapely figure and listening to her soft, country-girl-like voice, my manhood
grew restless in my trousers.

"We have been summoned by our mistress, Elena, to await your command."

"Sir, what do you require?" asked the blonde woman.

She let her hair fall loosely over her bare shoulders in waves. Her voice was soft,
yet ordinary, sounding like that of a worldly-wise prostitute, nonchalant about her actions.

I was speechless for a moment.

Most of the beautiful bodies available to satisfy my desires were honest and good servants, ensuring my manhood
wouldn't be wasted.

A surge of gratitude welled up within me; Lady Elena had bestowed such a great favor upon me without
considering her own benefit.

This realization brought me back to my senses. Since Elena had been so generous, I had to fully enjoy her
gift to repay her kindness.

I turned to face the red-haired girl, stroking her chestnut curls.

"What I want is for you to undress me. And while you undress me, I want my
fingers and tongue to roam freely over your body."

"Your wish is my need," the girl replied with a smile.

The thought of mutual pleasure made my manhood restless again.

I sat down in a carved oak chair, and the red-haired girl began to unbutton my tight-fitting blouse.

The front of my blouse had two rows of buttons, all made of precious gemstones such as amber, jade, agate, and amethyst
, which shimmered against the embroidered velvet bodysuit, dazzling the eye.

The girl slowly and carefully pulled open my blouse, and I slipped my arms out of my sleeves.

My fingers immediately began to reciprocate her boldness, groping and
caressing her hidden areas. The girl bent down, fumbling for the straps on my shirt, and my hands involuntarily fell upon her small, firm breasts, a pair of
rosy nipples yearning for suckling.

I held her breasts in my hands, finding them surprisingly firm and heavy. I pulled
the girl closer, bringing my mouth to one nipple, licking and sucking, then gently biting it.
The moment my teeth touched her soft skin, she gasped in pain.

After the initial shock, a warm current spread through her body, arousing her lower body. She moaned softly
, pulling even more frantically at the straps of my shirt. Finally, the straps came loose, and I reluctantly
looked to let her help me remove my shirt.

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

At the same time, I slid my hand between her thighs, lifting it up until the edge of my palm nestled in that
hidden crevice, already glistening with moisture.

She was indeed the best prostitute, a woman who had reached the pinnacle of pleasure in bed.

My hand caressed her crevice freely, while her hand moved from my chest to my waist,
reaching for the belt of my black silk trousers.

In this dimly lit prayer room, she must have sensed the size of my penis,
now struggling to break free of its cage.

Seeing her still so eager to remove my clothes, I felt a surge of satisfaction.

To make her undress faster, I began to vigorously stroke my genitals. I pried her thighs apart with my hands,
so she stood before me with her legs spread wide, her breasts hanging down, clearly a
slut who was both completely submissive and extremely eager and proactive.

Then, I explored her moist crevice, and soon my fingers found themselves in two
holes , one tight and dry, the other able to expand without limit, wet as a great river.

When I inserted my thumb into her lake and my index finger into her dry well, the girl let out a burst of ecstasy. I pretended to be
fierce and began to grope the moist entrance with my right index finger. When I found what I was looking for, I
cheered ; it was a thick fleshy bud, larger than any I had touched before. With the pulse of impatience and desire, the bud
trembled and rose.

She was burning with desire, frantically pulling at my tight pants, but I insisted on not helping her—in fact,
my hands had already found their place elsewhere. I rubbed her clitoris while using my index finger and thumb to thrust in and out,
bringing her to a state of blissful ecstasy.

"Mmm, mmm, my king! My lord!" she cried, "I'll do anything! Anything!

I'll lick your ass, ride me however you want, just let me lose my cum! Let me lose my cum!"

At that moment, she finally freed my penis. She pulled down my pants, and my penis, like
a victor, stood proudly erect, displayed before everyone.

I didn't hear the fearful cries I was used to hearing, but rather the lustful
moans of the women who had surrounded me. They rushed forward, all wanting to be the first to taste my enormous penis.

However, I wasn't finished with the red-haired girl yet; she cried
out . I quickened the rhythm of my fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure to her clitoris. Then, I felt
waves of pleasure surging through her body. I removed my hands, and she collapsed to the ground, panting heavily,
almost fainting.

The strong scent of her love juices clung to my fingers, fueling my madness for the masked women before me.
They were like fallen nuns, their religious fervor driving them to surround me in the darkness of the prayer room.

Their adoration for my penis was idolatry; they knelt, vying to shower
it with tender kisses and warm caresses.

"Ladies, don't worry!" I cried. "My skills in bed are as impressive as my penis,
enough to fill your mouths and your holes with semen. I bet
I won't be the one collapsing before dawn."

Hearing this, the women relaxed.

Every word I spoke was true: I possessed divine power matching my enormous penis and its two massive testicles.

Often, before midnight, I could exhaust half a dozen prostitutes, requiring two more masturbations to soothe their heads.
Impure thoughts clouded my mind, and I drifted off to sleep.

As if to prove myself, I immediately grabbed my penis and began to act in front of the women.

I hadn't been with a woman in a long time, and I'd almost reached my limit while playing with the red-haired woman, so it didn't take long for
me to finish. To achieve complete pleasure, I knelt on top of the red-haired girl, who was still
lying while stroking my penis.

Nearing climax, I cried out joyfully, watching the sticky white semen spray onto her face and
breasts; I was thrilled. As

soon as the semen was released, I felt my penis become even harder and more eager. So, I decided to find another partner
to satisfy myself again.

I suddenly thought it would be wonderful and pleasurable to have the girls lick the semen I had ejaculated on the red-haired girl,
so I commanded, "Kneel down! I want to see you lick my semen clean. Kneel down like harlots!"

The girls gladly knelt down, licking up the large clumps of semen from the red-haired girl's naked body.

Although they were all wearing masks, I could see from their rapid breathing that they were excited and thrilled by my command
. I took the opportunity to examine their bodies more closely.

My penis once again became erect, about a foot long, trembling incessantly, yearning to penetrate into one of the overflowing,
lustful .

"Ah! Take me! Take me!"

the girls cried, pressing their buttocks towards me so that their tenderness could be better offered to me. Only the dark-haired
woman remained silent, as if afraid that if she spoke, people would recognize her.

But I was driven by intense desire at this moment and had no time to think about it. On the contrary, the dark-haired woman's silence and
elegant demeanor aroused my boundless lust even more. I secretly resolved to save her for last, to give her my
most lavish gift.

The girl with light black hair was the second person I chose to go to paradise with, and I was determined to
surprise . After spreading her buttocks, I didn't point my weapon at her vulva, but rather at her brown,
wrinkled anus. Ignoring her frightened cries, I moistened her anus with her own vaginal fluid and thrust in
all at once , without considering the discomfort it might cause her.

Poor girl, her anus was tightly plugged, but I still managed to enter successfully.

It was definitely worth the effort; her anus felt like a velvet glove, tightly gripping my
hot, trembling penis.

My pleasure quickly spread to her, and she began to breathe heavily with desire, her body arching back to meet me,
seemingly yearning for my penis to thrust deeper. When I felt I was about to give in, I rubbed her
clitoris with my fingers, and then I ejaculated.

We both collapsed onto the floor,
breathless . For the first time in my life, I began to enjoy
the pleasure brought by my enormous penis and its undying power.

I rolled over and lay on my back, waiting for my penis to return to its normal size.

After a moment, my penis was indeed as erect as ever.

At that moment, I felt someone gently massaging my thighs. Opening my eyes, I saw the two blondes kneeling beside
me, exploring me with their soft, smooth tongues. I let them continue, while I lay on my side
enjoying their caresses.

When their tongues licked my testicles, I felt an intense pleasure. Soon, my desire was
aroused again.

Unable to resist any longer, I ordered one of them to spread her legs and sit on my stomach facing my feet
. My erect penis rubbed between her legs, but did not penetrate. Then, I ordered the other
blonde to sit on top of the first blonde. In this way, my enormous penis could stimulate
both of , while also giving myself immense pleasure, especially since the girl sitting on top could
rub my penis with her hands.

Our intercourse was so exciting it was almost suffocating. When they reached their climax, I ejaculated onto their
bellies, and we both fell into a dizzying bliss.

I had always been devoted to four women, and now only one woman remained untouched by me—
the dark-haired girl who had seduced me with her silence.

I turned to her and called her over, and she obeyed.

As I kissed her breasts, I noticed that her skin was whiter and softer than the other girls', and her hands
had neither calluses nor scars from work. Perhaps I should be suspicious, but I only assumed she was a high-class
maid, perhaps even one that Sir Bosch had kept for his own enjoyment.

I thought to myself, in any case, I must enjoy her more, for to do so would be tantamount to stealing Sir Bosch
's treasure.

Before I could even think about what to do, she knelt before my legs and began to greedily suck on
the tip of my penis.

But I didn't want to ejaculate like that, so I pushed her away slightly, forcing her to lie on her back.
Eager to possess her, I pressed the tip of my penis against her vulva. I was surprised to find her vulva so tight,
tighter than any woman I had ever slept with. As I pushed in, she paused slightly,
clearly in pain, but she showed no sign of reluctance to let me in.

On the contrary, this tightness only fueled my desire. I thrust hard, all the way in,
and then pulled out, causing her to cry out in pain.

However, she was wetter than any woman I had ever slept with. And like I wanted her, she craved me.

Soon after I entered, her juices melted away the pain, making my thrusts easier.

I rode her forcefully, like riding my warhorse. She eagerly responded with her hips,
sucking in every inch of my penis.

We both reached a climax simultaneously. As I ejaculated, she cried out excitedly, holding me tightly as if
unwilling to let a single precious drop of semen slip away from her tight, wondrous passage.

That night, I made love to her many more times. Each time, I begged her to tell me her name. But she wouldn't
speak, only shaking her head with a sorrowful expression, at least that's how it appeared to me.

At dawn, I parted ways with the five girls who had given me a night of pleasure with their skillful techniques. They
left wearing masks, and I went back to my room alone.

I wanted to thank Lady Elena, but her maids said she was unwell and couldn't see anyone.

The next day, I was to set off back to Camelot to report to the King.

As I rode off, a messenger hurried to me with a letter, repeatedly instructing me to open it a day after leaving
Edenthorpe .

I obeyed, returning to Camelot before opening it.

It read: "My dearest Ser Lancelot: I am a noblewoman, and you do not want me; therefore, you will
only want me if you treat me like a whore. At my baptism, it was prophesied that I would
bear a son with the finest knight in the land—a son who would surpass his father and one day be more powerful than King Arthur. This is
why I tricked you into sleeping with me. Of course, this is not the only reason, for I desire you more than
any other man.

Moreover, I experience unparalleled pleasure with you. Do not think too badly of me, for you
are my bedmate, and the pleasure you give me is unmatched by any other. Your dark-haired whore."

At first, I was angry, for I had been fooled, and I was terrified by the prophecy. However,
I also experienced immense pleasure with Lady Elena.

This experience itself was a comfort to me. If a woman of noble birth could let me
enter her body, what difference would other women make?

From that moment on, I first had thoughts of Mrs. Genevieve…

(II) Sir Guillaume

“This is getting better and better!” the masked woman hissed.

Her beautiful face was faintly visible behind the black transparent veil. Her eyes, hidden by the black veil
, faintly revealed a hint of anger, yet also seemed to be issuing an excited challenge.

“My dear Sir Lancelot,
what ?”

Lancelot’s face turned red to his neck, his mind a mess.

He originally wanted to tell a completely different story, a false tale of a dragon and a grateful maiden,
to glorify himself.

However, as he began to tell the story, a tremendous force swept through his body like a spring tide, forcing him,
under the cold gaze of his companions, to confess the truth of his fear and defeat.

When he saw the others' mocking smiles and pitying expressions, he wished there was a hole in the ground he could
disappear into.

Enraged, he leaped to his feet to grab his sword.

"Evil witch, reveal your true form!" he roared, placing one hand on the hilt, "or
you'll pay with your life!"

He gripped the hilt tightly, as if to raise the sword above his head, to better unleash its bloodthirsty blade upon
those who tormented him.

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

"Hold on tight, Ser Lancelot!" the masked sorceress laughed.

Her high, firm breasts jiggled seductively as she laughed loudly.

She stood before him, relentlessly provoking him to stab her with his sword:

"What's wrong, dear Sir Lancelot? You can't even lift your sword? How have you become
so weak, like a little girl? You can't even withstand the fragile white skin of a mere woman."

Pressing him down, she caressed his penis through his tight trousers, her red-painted nails tracing its massive
outline , like a ravenous beast teasing its prey before biting, tearing, ripping, and finally
devouring the delicious flesh.

Lancelot struggled futilely; his hands were paralyzed. His right hand gripped the sword hilt against
his will , while his left hung limply on the wooden table. He felt as if his hands were made of lead, stiff and numb;
he felt utterly unable to move.

Under her magical, wicked touch, Lancelot felt, humiliatingly, his enormous penis
begin to rise.

He looked down, watching it swell little by little, stretching the front of his trousers. Each tormenting
caress made it larger and harder.

The shame, the humiliation…

yet, there was also pleasure; the gentle caresses brought him intense ecstasy.

This strange woman's touch was like a bard plucking the strings of a lyre—nimble,
skillful , and possessing unparalleled magic.

"Stop!"

he tried to shout, but the words caught in his throat, escaping only as a hoarse sound.

In truth, he didn't want her to stop. He wished she, like Elena, would take advantage of his irresistible
urges and continue to bestow this indescribable pleasure upon him forever.

At this moment, Lancelot asked for nothing more than for this masked enchantress to continue gently massaging
his throbbing, unbearable penis with her skillful fingers. He didn't even need her to remove her trousers so she could touch his
shaft directly with her fingers. He was already in ecstasy.

The sensation of the coarse wool fabric sliding across his bare glans sent shivers down his spine. The feeling was almost
painfully beautiful. He had completely forgotten the stares of those around him, his knightly reputation utterly ruined.
But he cared nothing for that now, wanting only for this unparalleled bliss to continue forever.

However, his dream did not come true.

"Good sir Lancelot, sit down!" the woman urged, her voice sweet yet
wicked .

"The night is long. The moon has just risen, the revelry has only just begun. There are many stories to tell, many
confessions to hear."

Then she raised her arm, pointing at Lancelot with her ringed finger, and his limbs grew heavier,
finally forcing him back into his chair. His penis remained stubbornly erect, aching slightly.

But he knew in his heart that the one tormenting him would never again give him that blissful feeling.

The witch paced the cold, stone ground, her hardened, high breasts heaving,
occasionally peeking out from behind her midnight-black cloak, her snow-white thighs gleaming. The sight sent
shivers down the spines of everyone who looked upon her.

The knights waited with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, watching what was to come.

Suddenly, she stopped, turning her back to the knights.

"I now summon Sir Gaveen,"

she hissed, the sound like raindrops frozen before they hit the ground.

Gaveen's blood seemed to freeze; what terrible fate awaited him? Perhaps if he were to
recount a lewd and obscene past, a mere lie would save him from humiliation?

He felt relieved and stood up, speaking to the witch in a clear, confident voice: "Mysterious lady,
what do you want me to do?"

The witch's tone was full of sarcasm. "Sir Guillaume, I think we're all tired of hearing stories about Sir
Lancelot falling for a woman's tricks. Therefore, I want you to tell a
story full of masculinity. You're a fine knight, with a very good physique, and you never tire of looking at him. Perhaps
you have a story that will make everyone happier? Or perhaps some dishonorable, obscene tale?"

"Madam, I am a knight of honor. I want to tell you about my pleasures with women, but
how could a respectable knight do anything dishonorable? You should know that loyal Knights of the Round Table would never lower themselves to
damage a lady's chastity."

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

He felt strange; the witch seemed to be able to see into his mind. It was a feeling of caressing, digging,
gently dismantling every protective barrier he had erected.

As a memory flashed through his mind, his penis jerked; a beautiful, pure virgin,
melting like ice under his guidance, whom he had enlightened in his own unique way…

The witch was very close to him; he felt her naked body against his back, her hands on his
shoulders , her lips brushing against his ear.

She spoke to him in a whisper, a voice 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 before his comrades.

"Speak, Sir Guillaume," the voice whispered in his ear.

Fear and excitement mingled within him, and the candlelight seemed to brighten considerably.

"I command you to tell the story of Lady Ogour. Do not forget, you must tell the truth, or face
utter destruction."

Gavin opened his mouth, wanting to say something casual, avoiding the topic that frightened him, but the words caught in his throat
, as if a pair of cold hands were gripping his neck, telling him that taking his
life would be as easy as snapping the neck of a wounded bird, as easy as
forcing …

As he began to tell the truth, the unseen hands loosened.

Sir Gavin, fearing further harm, began to recount his secret.

The story of Sir Gavin and Lady Ogour:

Fort Orold, far from Fort Camelot, bordering Wales, was a
desolate , treacherous land where only skilled warriors could survive.

Unruly people roamed this barren frontier. There were no laws; only
the sword spoke.

Lady Ogour was brought to this murderous land. She was a pale-skinned,
pristine , a Scandinavian princess with golden hair and flawless white skin,
a treasure to any minor prince.

She was sold to Sir Bessilach as his wife, Bessilach having just been made a vassal of Orod, the lord of Dura,
my master, the king.

But Ordal was no weak woman; she was an ice queen with a heart as cold as fire.

To have been a king's daughter and married a
young was a great disgrace to her. Therefore, she felt no affection for the knight and secretly resolved
to give him nothing but what she had to do for him.

Thus, although Lady Ordal had been married to her young, impatient husband for three months, she remained a
virgin . Until I arrived at the castle, she was a virgin devoid of desire, her heart as cold as ice—at least,
that was my first impression.

My master, King Arthur, appointed me general to Orod. Dura inspected
the lands , and it took me and four men several days on horseback to arrive.

We were ambushed several times along the way, and after several fierce battles, we arrived in
Orod . Dura was exhausted when he arrived. However, when I saw the beautiful Oghur, my spirits lifted.

She was tall and slender, with blue eyes and thick, pale yellow hair tied into
a long braid that cascaded down her shoulders, revealing the alluring curves of her tight-fitting bodice.

I couldn't help but desire this woman immediately, but for the sake of my own reputation and that of the woman, I
tried my best to restrain this thought. I just couldn't forget her indifferent expression, which only fueled my desire.
The thought of sending a fire into the cold belly of this lovely girl filled me with longing, but I also worried that I might not be able
to have my way . After a good night's sleep

, my strength returned, and I began to carry out the official business entrusted to me by my master.

The first day was spent arduously inspecting Sir Bessilach's lands and castle, and I didn't meet
Lady Oghur until evening.

She appeared at the head of the dinner table like a fairy descended from heaven. The lady seemed
utterly , but her indifference only fueled my desire.

I knew nothing of this virgin wife, of course, and assumed her coldness stemmed from her utmost loyalty to her husband
.

She piqued my interest, and had it not been for my knightly reputation and prestige among my comrades, I would have pursued her that very night
without hesitation.

After dinner, her husband, Sir Bessilach, pulled me aside and told me of his unhappy marriage.

I found it hard to believe that such a young, strong, and vibrant man could endure his bride
's coldness without resorting to force to obtain what he desired.

“God, I cannot do this,”

he replied. “I have never been one to be rough with women. I want her to sleep with me willingly.
I find no pleasure in being forced.”

“Then, my lord, what will you do?”

I said to him. “Are you going to
spend your life whom any man could
take from you at any time?”

“Sir Gavin, I have heard that you have conquered many men. Are you not a kind-hearted man?”

I did not know what to say. I was indeed worried about
tarnishing , but I also thought the woman was a fact.

I think his intention was quite clear.

Finally, I replied, "I am a kind-hearted man, and a decent one at that."

"Then, good man Sir Gavin, please do me a favor, to please me, and to bring me
closer to King Camegault with a heartfelt sense of gratitude and duty, will you?"

I couldn't refuse him then, otherwise, my actions would be detrimental to my master, King Arthur.

"As long as it is within my power, and without tarnishing my reputation, Sir Bessilach, I am willing to do
anything for you."

"Then I implore you, with all your willpower, to influence my wife, Oghur, to make her willingly
become my real and complete wife."

I fully understood that he wanted my influence to stay within the bounds of persuasion and harmless flirting, but I
vaguely felt a dark unease deep within me, a lurking thought that once I was alone with Lady Oghur,
the desire to control her would overwhelm my reason, leading to excessive and indecent behavior.

I politely said goodnight to my troubled master, asking him to cast aside his worries. I promised to
do my best to persuade his icy wife to melt like honey in his arms.

But I thought to myself: she has to melt in my arms first.

I didn't sleep well all night, tormented by lewd thoughts and
the image .

I imagined her standing before me, completely obedient, begging for my mercy, while I showed her
no mercy I raised my hand to strike her, and she cried, pleading in a pitiful tone, "No, don't hit me anymore!"
But when my fist landed on her bare, raised buttocks, she cried out again,
pleading with pleasure, "More, more, my only master, hit me again, just once more!"

In my mind, that fair, naked woman obediently obeyed me. Her buttocks gradually turned crimson
under , and my erection hardened. I began to caress it,
moaning with pleasure.

In my greedy hands, my penis tautened tighter and tighter.

When the pearly white fluid spurted out, I almost thought I had ejaculated onto Oghur's rose-colored buttocks
, and let out a long, joyful groan.

The next morning, I discovered that Sir Bessilach had gone to a neighboring manor early in the morning:
he wouldn't be back for three days, leaving behind the instruction that during his absence, everything at the manor—including his cold-hearted
yet beautiful wife—was under my control.

Oghur was clearly displeased with this arrangement; aside from maintaining proper etiquette, she ignored me completely.

At breakfast, she sat at the table, glaring at me, making no attempt to hide her displeasure.

Finally, I decided to force her to speak with me.

"Madam Oghur, what would you like to do to amuse yourself in this fine weather? You should know that your
husband Sir Bessilach, has ordered me to make you very satisfied."

She remained seated, her eyes fixed on me, the cold blue light in her gaze sending shivers down my spine, strengthening my resolve
to conquer her.

"My lady, why won't you answer? Since I'm in charge of you for these three days, don't you know you
must fulfill the duties of a married wife to her husband?"

My words had the desired effect, turning her into an enraged ice queen.

“Obligation! I have no obligation to any man, especially not a man from the South. I am
a princess born free from the North, a warrior, a noble woman, and I would rather die than submit to abhorrent violence.
Sir , don’t expect any ‘obligation’ from me. My husband is your servant, but I am not!”

“But, madam, please be mindful of your position in Orod Duras,” I continued, using sweet words to
mask the threat in my tone. “We live in a savage land. Women banished to the forests
will soon succumb to wild beasts. Perhaps worse, the men of this land are cruel by nature, using women
like meat. Once they are satisfied with a woman, they will throw
away the wounded and useless ones.”

“I am not afraid of such a fate.”

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