handsome knight

In the candlelit room, people waited silently. The boar's head ornament hanging on the cold stone wall, its bewildered gaze seemingly transcending the limitations of time and space, saw the souls of the knights gathered together.
These souls, seemingly pure and proper, now appeared as despicable and vile as their enemies. Was there no one among the Knights of the Round Table who could truly be called pure? Yet, each story was more lewd than the last. Which knight would the wicked witch choose as her sexual slave, her inevitable comfort?
All eyes shifted from the dejected Galahad to the veiled witch. She continued to sneer silently, trembling. Finally, she spoke: "Sir Galahad, your shame is the punishment for your despicable actions. The power of morality has been lost! The purest and most sacred souls of the Knights of the Round Table are now laid naked before their companions. You are a false liar! No matter how pure your motives may seem, your actions are utterly base."
"You let magic fool you, let lust lead you, you caused the virginity of a respectable knight's sister to be lost, and now you are no longer the role model people dream of."
The witch raised her ringed hand, pointed at the tormented Galahad, and smiled slightly with satisfaction. "Sir Knight, I can find no crueler way to torment you than by making you agonize over your own actions."
Galahad lowered his head in shame, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed, recalling the terrible things he had done, how he had discovered his lewd self beneath the cloak of piety, and how he had succumbed to his worldly desires. "Now, let us look at the good man, Sir Alessandro." The witch glanced at the black-haired knight to Galahad's left and continued, "Sir Alessandro Ophirin, what story do you have to tell us?"
Then she placed her hand on his shoulder. Thus, Alessand felt that no matter how much he had hoped to embellish or defend himself with beautiful words, it would be useless; he had to tell the truth—the story of Sir Alessand Ophir:
I was born in a small manor in Brittany, the illegitimate son of Count Wass and his wife's servant, Agnes. My mother died at my birth, and later my father died in battle, leaving me an orphan in my childhood. I was sent to the castle of my uncle, the Duke of Montrechat, where I received a noble upbringing, as the Duke had no son and longed for an heir. When
I was seven years old, while still learning my duties, I discovered that I had the ability to move around the castle unseen. My steps were light, my eyes were sharp, and I knew many of the castle's secret passages.
One morning, the Duke summoned me to his bedroom and ordered me to deliver a message to a maid working in the castle kitchen. This woman often served the Duke at the dinner table. He was pleased to have her by his side, as she was beautiful and well-proportioned. The Duke and Duchess had been separated for many years, and he often needed a woman's company.
I naively thought the Duke wanted her to clean his room or for some other legitimate purpose. This woman was named Roshilde, a beautiful young woman, the daughter of a Norman farmer. The Duke had bought her on a whim and brought her to Brittany to serve him. Like all Norman women, she was full-figured; she was strong, with well-developed limbs and broad hips, gradually becoming very slender at the waist. Her arms were muscular from carrying heavy loads. I also can't forget her large, rosy-cheeked face and her head of pale blond hair.
However, what I remember most vividly is Roshilde's broad, friendly chest. When I was little, she held me, letting my head rest on her large, soft breasts, comforting and soothing me. How many happy times I spent on her chest! Her breasts were as soft as clouds and as comfortable as down comforters. Many times, when I pretended to sleep, she wouldn't move me away from that soft, incredibly comfortable place.
Rosillard was making cheese at the dairy farm; as she turned the handle of the wooden tub, her muscles contracted and expanded, and her large, soft breasts swayed alluringly. How I longed for her to lift me up in her arms and let me rest against her soft breasts! As I imagined what her breasts would look like after she took off her clothes, I also longed to understand why I felt this strange sensation coursing through my body.
Roshilde smiled and curtsied as soon as she saw me. "Good morning, little master. Shall I help you milk the cows?" I had indeed spent many of my free time at the dairy farm, doing chores to get closer to what I yearned for.
"Not today, Roshilde. My duke wants you to go to his room."
"Now?"
"Yes, Roshilde. He says he urgently needs your service."
Hearing these words from the innocent mouth of a child, Roshilde's happy face lit up with a broad smile.
"Then I'll go right away! Come and help me take off this apron."
I hurriedly fumbled for the straps of her apron, inhaling the warm milk, the sweat, and the mature, fragrant scent of her body (I didn't know what that scent was at the time) all mixed together. She bent forward and placed her apron on the stool, her breasts hanging down like overripe fruit, brimming with sweet nectar, ready to burst forth at any moment.
Roshild and I hurried to the Duke's bedroom. She knocked on the door, and a voice from inside said, "Come in."
She slipped inside, the heavy door closing behind her. I knew I should quietly slip away and let Roshild and the Duke do their thing,
but a strange feeling kept me there for a moment, making me peek through the keyhole.
The tower room was dimly lit, with only narrow, cracked windows in the thick stone walls, and it took my eyes a while to adjust to the dim light. I was stunned when I saw what they were doing together.
My friend Roshild's clothes, up to her waist, were off; her shirt was thrown on the floor, and her underwear hung on her hips. I was too young then, and the scene before me bewildered me. Her exposed breasts were even more beautiful than I had imagined—huge, creamy-white pillows of flesh, adorned with pink nipples that seemed to grow longer and more vibrant in color. She was administering punishment with the cane like a passionate penitent, the action turning her knees red and causing her body to tremble with excitement.
But most astonishingly, she wasn't punishing herself, but rather the Duke's naked, trembling body!
His bare back was already crisscrossed with red welts, and with each strike of the cane, the leather ripped new grooves into his ravaged flesh. And with each blow, Roshilde's large, soft breasts swayed up and down; how I longed to touch them! Sigh, I started to think I'd rather be whipped—as long as it was Roshilde who did it, as long as she could comfort me afterwards, kiss my wounds.
I was still a child; I couldn't understand how my Duke could deign to let a servant—no matter how beautiful a young girl—beat him until his skin was torn and bleeding. When the whip lashed him, he cried out: half in pain, half in an emotion I couldn't yet comprehend.
However, I sensed that the Duke seemed to derive pleasure from this pain in some peculiar way
. After a while, Roshilde seemed to have tired of whipping him. She released the unfortunate Duke, and, exhausted and aroused, began to remove the rest of her clothes.
She untied her skirt, letting it fall to the ground along with her underwear. I stared, dumbfounded. When she emerged from her clothes, I saw her naked body beneath her underwear: large, round buttocks that resembled two broad, wine-stained cheeks, like fermented dough tempting one to touch and knead.
She bent down to help the Duke to his feet. He seemed a little unsteady, needing her support to maintain his balance. But as he turned to face the door, I saw a part of his body brimming with life, more impatient than you might imagine. I saw that my Duke, like me, also had a penis, but it was different from mine. His penis didn't hang limply between his thighs; instead, it stood straight up, its gleaming purple head dancing with pleasure. The
enormous penis grew longer and longer, and at this moment, the Duke could no longer restrain his passion. As if to thank her for the terrible torment she had inflicted upon him, he began to kiss and caress Roshild. She returned the caresses, her movements completely different from when she had whipped his back just minutes earlier.
Her calloused hands stroked his loose belly, sliding down to the thick bush of his erect penis. As she began to stroke his penis, the Duke clearly experienced immense pleasure, humming as he pulled the woman closer and then lowered his head to bite her long, pink nipple, sucking on it greedily like a baby.
Then, I watched in bewilderment as the Duke dragged Rosie to the bed with its large curtains and forcefully pushed her down onto it. She seemed indifferent to this rude behavior, because when the Duke climbed on top of her, his red-striped back and buttocks bounced up and down, and I vaguely heard her giggle. I was naive and didn't know what they were doing, but watching the Duke and Roshilde frolic in the room, I felt extremely confused and blushed.
Just then, I heard footsteps on the stairs and hurriedly slipped away back to my room, still thinking about what I had just seen and heard, and what was going on. I still couldn't understand why I felt extremely confused when I saw Roshilde's beautiful naked breasts swaying and trembling on her chest.
I can never forget Roshilde, nor her beautiful naked body. I often think of that day, the first time I peeked at someone and tasted someone else's passionate performance.
When I was sixteen, I was made a gentleman, a sergeant of Geraldt, and came with him to Camelot Castle to learn gentlemanly manners in order to be promoted to a Knight of the Round Table.
I was a shy boy, neither a heavy drinker nor a womanizer. At night, when we lowly guards slept in the dark stables, my peers, already known for their romantic escapades, would boast to me about their experiences. I often wondered what it would feel like to touch and savor a woman's body, to slip my hand inside her underwear and caress her warm, soft breasts and firm nipples.
Other young men told me about their sexual encounters, and I wondered what it would feel like to slide my hard penis into a woman's wet vagina, and what it would feel like to ejaculate inside
. I had already discovered the pleasure of masturbation. In the dark beds of the stables, we often played games together, using each other's most private parts to see whose penis would get erect first, and whose would first moan and ejaculate onto the haystack. These were all pleasurable interludes, but they still couldn't satisfy my urge to experience a woman's body. However, I was too shy, too cautious to boldly pursue her, even though I was surrounded by young women—and, if my friends were right, every single one of them was already aroused and interested in me. In fact, those slender, proud, and prominent young women, though beautiful, weren't the most attractive to me. I couldn't forget the voluptuous Roshilde, her round, full hips, her soft, rounded breasts; only she was what I truly desired. I needed to be buried in the arms of a strong woman like Roshilde.
Because I disdained associating with ordinary young women, I had to abstain from desire; my faithful fingers, and those of my friends, became my only solace in those dark days and nights.
But my desire grew stronger and stronger. Finally, one day I got an opportunity that at least partially satisfied my needs.
Sir Gerynter summoned me to him and ordered me to deliver a message to her true lover, Madame Estella. "You are a steady and prudent young man," he said to me. "I know you will do your best for your master's mission. Do you know Madame Estella?"
"I do, sir." "
Then you should know that she married Sir Baldwin of Ghentburgh, a Flemish man who was mortally wounded in the Battle of the Holy Land and can no longer meet her needs. She came to me when she needed me, and since I am a learned and courteous knight, how could I refuse to give her the happiness that only I can provide?"
A cunning glint flashed in his eyes, and I sensed that his motives were not as noble as he claimed. Moreover, I immediately understood that he wanted me to keep it a secret. Madame Estella could not allow her reputation to be damaged due to her dealings with Sir Gerynter and carelessness
. "I understand, Sir Gerynter," I reassured him. "What do you want me to do?"
He took a ring from his pocket and handed it to me
. "Give this to Madame Estella. Her estate is only a few hours away by horseback. This is our agreed signal; when she receives the ring, she will know to go to the Lomens Forest, where our hunter's lodge is safe. Escort my lady to the lodge—you know that place, I've taken you there many times hunting, I'll wait for her there. Then you wait to escort her back."
I bowed and accepted the order, immediately setting off for Madame Estella's estate, only a few miles from Camelot Castle. The estate was wealthy, with a fine stone house and many surrounding cottages. I dismounted and entered the house, where I was greeted by an old woman dressed from head to toe in black
. "The mistress cannot see anyone," she reminded me, adding, "She is ill and cannot step out of her room."
"I've come to deliver a message to Madame Estella," I explained.
The thin old woman dragged her feet to find her. Soon she arrived. She was nothing like I had imagined. Most of the noble ladies were as slender as willows, pale-faced, and sickly, but Madame Estrella was tall and full-figured, her ample breasts swaying alluringly as she walked. I then understood why Sir Gerreinte was so infatuated with her, and why this woman felt lonely during her husband's illness.
I handed the ring to Madame Estelle, who smiled and had her maid fetch her a cloak and riding gloves.
"I have been summoned by the Abbey Mother to visit the St. Mary of D'Anne," she announced. "This young gentleman has agreed to escort me. I will return tonight." For
most of the journey, we rode in silence. Although Madame Estelle was willing to speak with me, I found my tongue tied in her presence. Her radiant beauty captivated me, but I could never approach a woman like her and pour out the shameful desires hidden in my heart.
The hunter's hut was a low wooden house, hidden in the woods, not easily discovered. No one came here except for the knights of Camelot Castle when they went hunting. It was a good place for lovers to meet.
I was very disappointed to see that Sir Gerreinte's horse was already tied up outside the hut. I had intended to spend more time with Lady Estella; I was already captivated by her graceful figure.
Sir Geraldt, surely watching our every move, was certain that the door opened as we approached the cottage. He came out to greet Lady Estella, kissing her hand with great fervor and elegance, then turned to me and said, “My child, you have done a good job. Now I command you to go to the edge of the forest and wait for me in the village of Ridsford. I will bring Lady Estella to you before dark, and you will ride her back to the manor that evening.”
Although I knew he would send me to Ridsford, his hasty departure still displeased me. So, with a heavy heart, I mounted my horse and rode out of the forest. On the way, I looked back and saw the two lovers enter the house and close the door. I did not ride out of the forest to Ridsford.
I waited for a while, out of sight of the cottage, a wicked thought forming in my mind. I stood there until they were both lost in their lovemaking and wouldn't notice me returning, then I dismounted, tied up my horse, and tiptoed towards the cottage via a route they wouldn't spot. The cottage had several windows, all covered with burlap sacks to keep out the cold wind and prevent anyone from seeing inside. This was a blow to me; if I had covered them, Sir Gerald and his lover would have noticed. But I was lucky. As I circled the cottage, I saw a small hole in a burlap sack, just enough to peek inside
. I tiptoed to the window, bent down, and looked inside. The midday sun shone through the burlap sack, bathing the room in a soft, golden light. The room was empty except for a rough table and bench, a few pottery utensils for cooking, a hunting pen, and a large pile of animal pelts—clearly intended for hunters
to use as mattresses today. The two lovers were already entwined naked on the pelt bed. Madame Estelle lay on her back, legs spread, her hands resting like a priest on Sir Gerald's head, while he knelt reverently between her thighs, his head buried in her dark pubic hair
. Estelle's unadorned nakedness was more alluring than when she wore a tight-fitting robe. Her beautifully curved breasts stood proudly erect, and I imagined my head resting between them, my lips on her folded nipples, my tongue licking them until they hardened. I dreamt I was like a delicate, helpless infant, clinging tightly to a broad chest, swimming in a sea of sweet milk, floating on clouds of soft, full breasts.
An intensely pleasurable warmth emanated from my armpits. I instinctively touched my crotch and found a swollen, trembling penis struggling to break free of its cage, seeking its home and its goal. I was desperately thirsty, reaching into my crotch, my fingers grasping it. My breathing became heavy as I touched the taut penis. I immediately unzipped my pants and released my penis. Peering through the small hole, I continued to look inside, and my penis grew harder and harder.
Madame Estella screamed and rolled around on the makeshift bed, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. For a moment, I thought she was possessed by some terrible demon!
Then she collapsed onto the fur bed, panting, a serene smile on her face that I thought resembled an angel's.
When Sir Gerald looked up, Lady Estella's private parts were fully exposed to my inexperienced gaze for the first time—it was indeed the first time I had ever seen a woman's private parts so clearly. It was truly a sight to behold; the lady's hidden crevice, under her lover's watchful eye, had been opened wide, unintentionally exposed to my gaze, while I was outside the window caressing her trembling vulva.
Her naked flesh was a vibrant pink, very moist; I truly thought I saw delicious clam meat moving inside a shell, juices flowing incessantly. How I longed to stretch out my thirsty tongue to lick that juice, to let it coat my tongue, flow into a thin stream in my mouth, and pour into my throat!
Now the situation inside had changed again. Sir Gerald lay supine on the pile of furs, like a saint, his lance pointing reverently to the sky,
his testicles tight and hard, a drop of love juice glistening at the tip of his lance. Lady Estella, like a supplicant before an altar, knelt between her lover's thighs, bowing deeply in prayer. Her soft lips parted and closed on his spear, silently chanting sweet blessings,
"Quick! Quick..." I heard Gerald's moans as he began to thrust into the depths of her warm throat, to answer the lady's humble prayers. I, too, vigorously rubbed my spear, imagining it buried in Estella's mouth, enveloped by her full lips, caressed by her wanton tongue. But I was careful not to let myself collapse immediately, for I was already very excited, wanting my engorged testicles and hard spear to share in every beautiful moment of spring before my eyes.
But to my disappointment, Sir Gerald suddenly cried out, and with a final, violent thrust, he wet the lady's mouth. He suddenly ejaculated so much that Estella couldn't swallow all of his semen; only a few precious drops dripped from her full, red lips.
How foolish I was! Thinking that Sir Gerald would prolong this pleasurable experience as I did. It would take the knight a long time to regain his erection and desire, while I, outside the window, still gripping my trembling lance, had to give up halfway. However, my guess was wrong; the frolicking inside was not over yet.
To my surprise, Sir Gerreinte's penis, in Madame Estella's skillful hands, was erect again in the blink of an eye, like a young man's. She stroked it like a beloved pet or a wounded horse in dire need of warmth and rescue, so attentively that it quickly regained its vitality, and like a horse that had found its home, it raised its head again. Sir Gerreinte lay motionless on the fur, stretching out his arms to his lover and saying, "Come, ride me."
So the lady parted her legs and quickly climbed on top of him, parting her lower lips with her hands, and her lover's lance smoothly and swiftly pierced her hot, alluring belly.
She reached behind her and stroked his fleshy mounds, riding him while gently caressing his fleshy mounds and buttocks with her fingertips, then kneading them forcefully. She rode excitedly, her breasts swaying joyfully on her chest. As they rode faster and faster, turning into a fierce charge, her buttocks spread wide, trembling.
In the heat of battle, no warhorse carried its rider with such valor and fearlessness as the noble Sir Gerald. When his mistress was about to stimulate him to the peak of victory, he breathed heavily, clenching his teeth as if he were chewing the bit in his mouth. "Faster! Sir, faster!" she cried. "I have seen the target, don't let me fail!"
And so, the noble knight immediately obeyed, thrusting into her violently, gripping her thighs tightly with both hands, and charging towards the target with her
. I also felt my climax approaching. I thrust my spear with all my might, yearning to share the ultimate pleasure with the lovers.
"I'm going to die! I'm going to die!" Madame Estella cried out, just as Sir Gerald's thick, milky-white semen gushed from her body, flowing onto his breasts and thighs, and Estella collapsed onto his chest.
I dared not shout with excitement, only letting out a trembling sigh, as my own semen gushed from the spear, spraying large amounts onto my palms and wrists. I collapsed to my knees, dizzy with excitement, my mind filled with the wondrous scene I had just witnessed.
I dared not linger outside the cabin any longer; I had to reach Ridsford before Sir Gerald, to appear as if I had been waiting there all afternoon.
When Sir Gerald finally brought Madame Estella before me, it was already completely dark, and we still had a long way to go. For most of the journey, we rode forward in silence. I couldn't believe that the dignified, humble, and kind lady before me was the same person as the naked goddess I had seen frolicking in the hunter's hut.
I glanced at her sideways and saw a playful smile on her lips. It turned out that she had noticed my envious gaze. I silently prayed that she wouldn't suspect that I, who had just escorted her back to the manor, had experienced the happiest hour of my life—the hour I'd spent spying on her and her lover outside the cabin in the woods. As
we rode past the manor gate, Madame Estella turned to me and said in a gentle, weak voice, "Alessandro, my child, would you do me a great favor?"
"Madam, anything!" I was filled with desire for her, almost bursting into her world—yes, like falling into an abyss. "Then, please go to Hilde Abbey in the forest to see my sisters. Do you know it?"
"Madam, I know it; it's the house near the shallow river."
"Then, take this package and keep it safe. Give it to Sister Agnes, not anyone else. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
So I gave Madame Estrela's hand a long kiss and took my leave.
The next morning, I rode off again into the forest with the package Estrela had given me. Three hours later, I reached a shallow river and waded to the gate of Hilde Abbey.
A nun working in the garden greeted me warmly and ran to open the gate for me. I led my horse inside and explained that I was on Madame Estrela's mission, bringing an important package for Sister Agnes
. "Come with me," the nun replied. Although her hands were calloused, she was young and beautiful. "I'll take you to see the Abbey Mother."
Sister Agnes was a middle-aged woman with cheeks like red apples, and her large robes clearly revealed a beautiful and full figure. She exuded a warm and sweet aura, and I longed to bury my head in her large robes—ideally, on her breasts.
I handed her the light and soft package, and Sister Agnes thanked me. The nuns offered me refreshments. Then, I reluctantly left the convent. But as I came out, I heard bursts of laughter and low screams coming from the nuns' quarters. There was also a strange fragrance…
I decided to go see what was happening.
After the convent doors closed, all the nuns went inside. I hid my horse in a secluded spot and then waded across the river. Climbing over the wooden fence to the building wasn't too difficult, and I quietly entered the inner courtyard. My heart pounded as I peered through the window of the quarters.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Five nuns, hand in hand, were laughing and dancing around a copper brazier. A wisp of fragrant smoke rose from the brazier. In the corner, I saw Sister Agnes holding the package Madame Estrella had asked me to deliver, throwing what looked like herbs into the fire. The smoke drifted out the window, into my nose, making me dizzy and arousing a burning desire in my groin… My desire grew stronger and stronger because the nuns, and Sister Agnes, were all naked!
Faced with this discovery, I gasped in surprise and delight. Suddenly, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder. I turned around and screamed in shock. Four nuns grabbed my arms and dragged me into the bedroom, forcing me to submit to Sister Agnes's punishment.
"Young Alessandro, back to us so soon?" Seeing me panting and disheveled, Agnes laughed. "Sisters, how should we punish him? This young man only knows how to derive pleasure from watching others' revelry, yet he's too shy to share pleasure with women."
"Strip him naked! Beat him! Ride him!" the nuns shouted in unison, still giggling under the influence of the herbs Madame Estrella had kindly given them. I too was affected by the herbs; their fragrance seemed to penetrate my brain, my groin, every cell, washing away all my resistance. This was the first time in my life I could directly have relations with women, but could I really have relations with nine nuns and their Superior Sister?
Before I could even think, countless hands reached out from all directions, stripping me naked in an instant. Helplessly, I was forced to lie on a narrow bed—the nuns' shared bed. Many hands pushed me down, lips so numerous they seemed to want to cover every inch of my skin, tongues licking me, teeth gently nibbling, teasing, tormenting my body. I was enveloped in excitement, like a helpless infant, lying stiffly, fulfilling
my duty, or rather, the only thing I could do: lie motionless, allowing myself to be pampered, licked, and admired. My erection rose excitedly; as the herbs took effect, I began to groan, hallucinating before my eyes. But what happened next completely surprised me—
the hands suddenly became brutal, turning me over so I was face down, and spreading my legs wide. With a piercing pain, I realized what was happening. The nuns were punishing me as they had instructed, whipping me with a whip with nine leather strips. This was their tool for self-punishment or mutual punishment, and for deriving pleasure from it
. It was indeed both punishment and pleasure. Now, I finally understood the real reason why the Duke of Montreux was so eager to submit to Rosillard and accept her cruel whipping. The waves of pain in my back immediately turned into a tremendous pleasure. I wanted to cry out my pain and excitement, but the straw-stuffed mattress beneath me stopped me. Under the whipping, my body trembled, and sweat poured down my face, but all I could say was the one sentence pounding in my mind: "More, more, more..."
The women finally stopped hitting me and began to caress my back and buttocks with their hands and tongues. One or two of them even twisted their tongues and probed into my anus, which made me feel extremely embarrassed, yet also incredibly wonderful.
Then, they turned me over and held me tightly. At this moment, Sister Agnes came over. She was naked and looked a little frightening—because she was tall and strong. However, I still longed to caress those swaying breasts, to be buried in her full flesh.
Without hesitation, the headmistress straddled me, aiming her legs at my erect penis. Although the wounds on my back and buttocks still ached, when I felt her hot, lubricated vulva slide down my shaft like a perfectly fitting soft glove, an extreme pleasure made me howl.
She rode me like a skilled rider, her unique thighs enveloping my penis, making it move up and down. To my delight, she bent forward, so her breasts hung down, allowing me to bite one nipple. I suckled like a baby, ejaculating inside a woman for the first time. I knew that from then on, I would fearlessly follow the sensations of my penis.
When Aunt Agnes... As I climbed off of the other nuns and allowed them to have sex with me, I thought to myself, though I suffered the humiliation of absolute obedience, I was the luckiest man in the world…
Chapter Eight: Sir Lysian
Alessandra, blushing with shame, writhed awkwardly in his chair. At that moment, the laughter of the knights echoed through the hall.
“Ha!” the witch roared. “Your foolish immoral behavior has been punished! I believe your sins have been deserved—and I even hope you’ll do it again!”
The only knight who didn’t laugh, Lysian, sat silently throughout, and was the only fully armed knight. He was a young, handsome knight with rosy cheeks, like a little boy, and not a single beard on his chin. He had chestnut curly hair and deep green, emerald-like eyes. He seemed somewhat uneasy about what was happening before him.
"Sir Lysian, you are so quiet. Tell us, what pains you?" The veiled witch seemed particularly concerned for him.
"Madam, nothing."
"Ah, then you won't object to telling everyone your story, will you?"
"I have no story to tell. I am a pure knight. I have not taken a virgin's chastity," he replied reproachfully, his voice soft and rhythmic.
"My dear Sir Lysian," the witch sighed, "I think I need to give you some pointers, to make you tell the truth. Because you say you have no story, that's a lie. You do have a story, a story of a lady named Ursula and her chaste sister Brigitte, a story about gratitude and… mutual comfort."
Lysian shook his head, wanting to refuse to tell the story. Just then, the veiled woman's ringed hand rested on his shoulder. The only thing that came to his mind was the unforgettable night he had spent with a beautiful woman named Ursula.
Then, his thoughts turned into words, surging forth like a tide:
"The Story of Sir Lysian and Miss Ursula."
My reputation for innocence is renowned among my knightly companions, and indeed throughout the entire kingdom of Camelot. My honor is untarnished; the virgins I have rescued attest to my gentlemanly conduct and sense of justice. I have never laid a hand on any defenseless woman, nor have I damaged their reputation. And, most remarkably, for some reason I wish to keep secret, I have never removed my armor before anyone, man or woman.
Not before anyone, except my chosen companion, Miss Ursula.
It was a cold, harsh day; the November winds howled through the forest like the cruel scythe of death. It was a difficult day for both man and beast. As darkness fell, the grey sky pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket.
I was searching the forest, just as all knights on horseback search for the devil, and as I swore to fight him. I desperately hoped to find a farmhouse or manor immediately so I could find food and spend the night there, for despite wearing armor and a thick wool cloak, I was nearly frozen.
Just then, I heard a voice, a weak but urgent cry of a desperate woman—I knew I had to respond to her pleas.
I spurred my Trojan mount and galloped towards the sound, reaching the depths of the forest.
I came to an open meadow and saw a young girl stripped naked and tied to a tree in the center. Surrounding her were a group of hideous villains—five in total, each with a face like a devil. I quietly reined in my horse and observed carefully from behind the tree for a while, pondering how to deal with my enemies.
After tying the girl to the oak tree, they began to undress her, their lewd hands caressing her delicate, white skin, revealing their erect penises. Then, a tall, muscular man with a scarred face, who appeared to be the leader of the gang, picked up the belt lying on the ground and gestured for his men to do the same.
He then raised his arm overhead and lashed the girl's breast with this makeshift whip, leaving a red mark on her pale skin. His men grumbled with satisfaction and began whipping her as well, until the poor girl was dazed and disoriented, seemingly unaware of her surroundings or what was being done to her.
The gang leader lowered the belt, approached the now terrified girl, and forcefully spread her legs with his rough hands, wantonly touching her wet genitals with his fingers.
"A virgin, God can be my witness!" he laughed loudly. "I bet she won't be a virgin in a minute!"
What they were going to do to the poor girl next was self-evident. And I, having sworn a sacred oath as a Knight of the Round Table, could not allow any girl to suffer such a terrible fate. So I spurred my horse and galloped to an open space, drawing my sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.
Seeing me approach, the girl cried out, "Sir Lysian, it's you! I know it's you! Good knight, please save me! My honor and my life are in danger!"
"Good girl, don't be afraid!" I replied, grabbing my sword and viciously slashing at one of the bandits' shoulders, felling him to the ground. "I've come to your rescue."
However, this band of bandits was not so easily driven away. Although they were naked, their weapons were all placed by the house, within easy reach. In just a moment, they grabbed their swords and daggers, charging at me with gritted teeth. A short man with only one eye leaped up behind me, climbing onto the back of my Trojan horse, nearly slashing my thigh with his blade. As soon as I heard the sound of his blade coming at me, I turned and swept him down with a single blow, leaving him dazed and disoriented.
The other two men approached me with menacing eyes; I stabbed one of them, while the other fled into the woods in terror. Now only two bandits remained—the menacing leader and his accomplice, a blond giant with a scar on his left cheek running from his hairline to his chin. He was a giant, but much slower than me; I swiftly struck him with the hilt of my sword, knocking him unconscious. However, I hadn't expected the bandit leader to be so agile and cunning. He ran behind my horse and stabbed it with his boot. Troy kicked off with his hind legs, throwing me off its back. I fell to the ground, nearly fainting. All I knew was that Troy had done what I hadn't finished; it had kicked the bandit leader in the stomach, causing him to curl up and crawl helplessly into the woods
. After a while, I regained some strength, struggled to my feet, and staggered towards the frightened virgin, who was weeping with gratitude, still bound to a tree trunk. I drew my dagger and slashed the ropes, freeing her. Though still semi-conscious, I noticed she was a beautiful young woman, certainly an ideal dish for any knight's table, or a perfect partner for his bed.
But as this naked girl collapsed into my arms, weeping, the pain of my fall became unbearable. Suddenly, darkness enveloped me, and the earth seemed to rush up and crush me, and I lost consciousness
. What happened next was what this girl, Brigitte, later told me. Fearing for my life, she rushed to Senshul and to the home of her beautiful sister Ursula, renowned for her medical skills. She
and her sister came to where I had collapsed. They fetched two strong men from Ursula's village; having heard that the holy Sir Lysian had risked his life to save young Brigitte from a fate worse than death, they were eager to help me.
I was carried to Ursula's house and placed on a bed, waiting for the servants to awaken from their unconsciousness.
Thus, when I opened my eyes, I found myself in a strange house, lying on a strange bed, my gaze meeting the beautiful eyes of a woman I had never seen before
! Oh! My eyes were seeing stars! I immediately remembered what had happened;
I realized I wasn't wearing armor! So, this lovely, unfamiliar woman watching me must have discovered my secret…
“Are you Sir Lytian?” the woman asked, dipping a handkerchief in the cool herbs and wiping it between my brows. “I think you must be. I saw you at the Autumn Tournament, and I’ve heard of your holy name.” “
I…I am Lytian,” I stammered, my mind a jumble. “But wouldn’t it be more accurate to call you Lytiano?” the lady asked. I had to admit, it was her beautiful breasts, seemingly dancing gracefully beneath her thick winter clothes, that had made me so flustered.
My face must have turned red, for the lady smiled and continued, “Lytiano, don’t be afraid. No one but me will know your secret. I sent Brigitte away before I undressed you; I already suspected your true identity then. Lytiano, don’t be afraid. No one but me knows you’re a woman!”
And so, my sinful secret was exposed! All my years of keeping this a secret were in vain, though deep down I knew this day would come. My womanhood had been revealed by this lovely woman, and I must admit, my desire for her far surpassed that of any other man or woman. "May I know your name?" I asked weakly, still very weak.
"My name is Ursula. I am a witch doctor, a prophet. It was through my divination powers that I knew your true identity before I even undressed you."
"Then, will you expose my identity?" I asked. "If you do, it will bring terrible shame to the Round Table, and I will be thrown into the wilderness in shame and disgrace."
"Don't move, don't move," Miss Ursula urged, taking my hand and placing it on her chest, but I was restless with an indescribable excitement. "I just want to help you, to be close to you. Lysiano, it seems there's only one way to ensure no one suspects you're a woman." "
What is that way?"
"Hey, find yourself a lady, a woman to share your bed, then no one will doubt you anymore."
"But... I'm a woman, how can I share a bed with another woman?" I tried my best to hide my agitation.
"Which woman would agree to share a bed with me?"
"Oh, Lysiano, I would be honored to share a bed with you. Don't you want me to bring you comfort?"
Before I could react, Miss Ursula was undressing in front of me. She was tall and beautiful, like a goddess with chestnut hair, both strong and sweet, with both feminine softness and firm muscles—a thoroughbred mare. I longed to ride her in my own way, a way that would bring pleasure to both rider and mount.
The night was cold, but Ursula wasn't wearing any pajamas under her nightgown. As the soft nightgown slid slowly to the floor, I saw a flawless body: strong shoulders framing full, firm breasts, nipples pink and moist; a supple torso that slenderly curved at the waist before widening to form a woman's characteristically broad hips;
her thighs strong and powerful. I couldn't help but wonder what wondrous paradise lay hidden beneath her hairy, brown pubic area. Miss Ursula pulled up the sheets, but instead of getting into bed as I expected, she sat on the edge of the bed, passionately caressing my naked body. "So beautiful, so strong!"
she said flirtatiously, her fingertips gently stroking my sides. "Tell me, my dear Lysiano, how did you come to wear this strange knight's attire, hiding your beautiful breasts beneath cold armor and gleaming leather belts?" "?"
Ursula's caresses of my body sent waves of pleasure through me that I could hardly comprehend, yet I still stammered out my past.
"I came from humble beginnings. Even as an infant, my slender frame harbored the heart of a man, uninterested in any pursuit of women. As I grew older, when men flattered me about the beauty of my breasts and the roundness of my hips, I remained unmoved. On the contrary, I found the only time I experienced physical pleasure was upon seeing a beautiful young woman."
Naturally, this feeling confused me, because I believed it was wrong for a girl to desire another woman. I began to prove to myself and the world that this was a mistake.
I first set my sights on the foreman of my father's vineyard, because he was a handsome and strong man with broad shoulders, and I had heard that his penis was particularly magnificent. All women wanted him, but few could catch his eye. I thought that if I conquered him, made him lose my virginity, I could awaken my desire through conquest
. So, I began to offer myself to him—his name was Olaf. Although I didn't actually want him at all, I would flirt and give him flirtatious glances whenever he was around, letting him know my feelings. If I had a choice, I would rather wear tight tops and leggings like my male companions, but I started wearing tight dresses and low-cut corsets, letting Olaf peek at the plump berries inside. To be honest, this pursuit was quite exciting.
One warm September day, as I was helping to load the first batch of grapes from the vineyard into the large wooden barrels used for pressing, I saw Olaf walking towards me from the yard carrying a basket of grapes. Accompanying him was Jana, a boyish-looking girl whose flirtatious glances and flirtatious gestures often made my heart race. However, I always rejected the call of my heart because I considered it a shameful thing. As soon as she and Olaf entered the brewery, Jana went to work at the juicer, while I completely forgot she was there.
Olaf greeted me with a broad smile: "Little Lesiano, I didn't expect to run into you here." He said, "Ah, it's so warm, I think we're both overdressed!" While I was still in shock, Olaf stepped into the doorway and locked the large iron bolt, so no one would bother us. Then, he began to take off his clothes, pulling off his sweaty undershirt to reveal a firm chest covered in tufts of chest hair. Then, he untied his corset and pulled off his tight trousers.
I had seen men's penises many times before—because we were country folk, we didn't care about such things—but I had never seen one so erect, so beautiful, so magnificent. Although it was a prank, the thought of having such a magnificent instrument inserted into my private parts excited me a little.
After Olaf undressed, seeing my terrified state, he said, "What—you're still dressed? I'll help you right away!" Then, like a wet nurse changing my diaper, he carelessly began to undress me
. Soon, I was standing naked in front of Olaf, trembling with fear, just as I had been born, because I actually had no sexual desire for him. At his command, I lay down on the firm mud floor. He knelt between my thighs, kissed me, and bit my nipples. Then, unable to restrain himself—and seeing no reaction from me—he spread my thighs apart and aimed the tip of his weapon at my secret place, only to be greatly troubled by my dry opening
. Just then, I suddenly saw Jana, who was hiding in the shadows, peeking. I felt a surge of excitement as I watched her unbutton her tight bodice and tease her breasts, those soft and wonderful breasts. I immediately felt a surge of intense desire, like a tidal wave coursing through my body. My belly was full of love fluid, which moistened the entrance to my secret passage, flowing down my thighs.
Olaf, of course, didn't know that my excitement wasn't aroused by him, but rather by seeing another woman's body. He let out a satisfied groan, parted my lower lips, and pushed his hard member into my body. It hurt a little when he entered, but my moans were sounds of pleasure, because I saw Jana sitting down facing me behind him, lifting her skirt
and spreading her legs wide, allowing me to see her movements more clearly. At the same time, her tongue slid lasciviously across her lips, as if saying she wanted to lick me.
As the rough foreman rode me, my lust intensified, and I groaned loudly. Ironically, my moans weren't caused by Olaf, who had led me to this world of pleasure, but by that bitch, Jana. She picked up a sturdy broom handle and eagerly inserted it into her wet hole, while simultaneously rubbing her clitoris vigorously like a maid scrubbing silverware.
"Little bitch, I'm going to make you cum!" Olaf whispered in my ear. I knew I was indeed about to cum—but my orgasm had nothing to do with him. Although his spear grazed my clitoris and was hard as it entered my body, I was watching Jana, imagining her caressing me with her fingers, licking me with her tongue, and thrusting that long wooden rod deep inside me.
"I'm going to die, I'm going to die!" I cried out, letting out a long, joyful sigh before collapsing onto the muddy ground, while Olaf victoriously ejaculated into the defiled hole. I swear, I heard another woman's satisfied sigh nearby.
When I came to my senses, Olaf was already standing up, half-dressed, but Jana was nowhere to be seen. I was even more confused than before, because when a man's penis was inside me, I didn't feel pleasure. My ecstasy stemmed from seeing Jana lasciviously rubbing her genitals.
I felt guilty and ashamed, even though Jana had tried to seduce me into her bed several times. I vowed never to walk that shameful path again, afraid of being discovered. However, I knew I would never sleep with another man again, so I reluctantly lived a life of abstinence.
I was a mischievous girl who always wanted to be a man and dedicate myself to a life of warrior. I spent many happy times with the boys in my father's family, learning from them how to wield swords and spears. One night, I used a sharp knife to cut my long hair close to my scalp. I put on my brother's clothes and was surprised to find that I could pass for a boy. Thus, a plan formed in my mind.
That very night, I rode my father's horse and left home without permission, never to return. I came to Camelot, calling myself Lysian, a penniless country gentleman. Over the years, I made myself a true knight; that's how I became Lysian, a Knight of the Round Table. No one but you has ever discovered my secret
. "I will keep your secret a secret," Ursula smiled, lowering her head to kiss the triangle of my inner thigh. Instinctively, I parted my legs, allowing her tongue to writhe in my crevice. Though I craved a woman's touch, Ursula was the first.
I raised my arms, encircling her waist and pulling her closer. She lay eagerly on top of me, wanting me to kiss her, to explore her smooth, white skin with my greedy fingers. She had waited so long, so thirstily. "I want you," I whispered, almost afraid to say it aloud, and once it came out, I could hardly believe it was the sound of my own desire
. "I want you too," Ursula replied, rubbing her thighs between mine, her firm muscles pressing against my trembling clitoris. "I never thought of men, my dearest Lysiano. Let me tell you how I discovered my desire for a woman's love, okay?"
I begged her to continue. I stroked her nipples with my fingers, and she told me... She told me her story: "My father is the Baron of Guelphin." She continued, "He cruelly abuses his power over those who work for him, especially women. His lust is insatiable, and I fear that his greedy clutches will extend not only to village women but also to his daughters. My sister and I are nearing adulthood, and we fear he will soon demand that we take turns being his bedmates. Therefore, we intend to escape his clutches one by one." My sister Clotilda persuaded
a wealthy aunt to take her away to keep her company, and my father, unable to find a suitable excuse, was forced to agree to let her go.
Needless to say, I became my father's primary target. I knew I had to escape before he raped me. Finally, I realized that my only way out was to enter a convent. I told my father that I wanted to enter the nearby St. Winifred Abbey. Although my father was annoyed by my determination, he could not object, for doing so would arouse suspicion himself. So, when I turned sixteen, I became a novice nun in St. Winifred. Of course, I wasn't interested in the convent, but living with the nuns, I discovered a great truth: the most genuine and moving love is when one woman loves another.
One night, not long after I entered the convent, I was awakened by a knock at the door. I opened it, and Sister Elos entered my room. She was beautiful and a few years older than me, and she had been exceptionally kind to me since I arrived at the convent. She was only wearing her nightgown, shivering from the cold.
"Sister Elos!" I called out, "What are you doing here so late?"
"I've come to bring you pleasure," she replied with a smile, "but first you must warm me up. May I get into your bed?" Of course, I made room for her. To my surprise, before Elos crawled into my bed, she took off her nightgown as well. The moment
I touched her naked body, I felt something strange surging within me; my nipples hardened and stung at the slightest touch
. "Dear Ursula," Elos whispered, "your breathing is heavy. Take off your nightgown and let me massage your breasts to relieve your discomfort." I was an obedient nun, so of course I complied. But in reality, Sister Elos's massage didn't calm me down; instead, it excited me even more. This was exactly what Sister Elos wanted.
I began to respond to her touch, exploring her body as she explored mine. Gently, gently, Sister Elos placed my hands on her inner thighs, showing me how to rub them to give her the greatest pleasure. A few minutes later, my hands were soaked in her love juices. Her head was thrown back, moaning excitedly. You can imagine how happy I was.
"Now it's my turn to experience the pleasure of sisterly love," Elos said, kneeling between my legs, licking my genitals like a mother cat. For the first time in my life, she brought me to the pinnacle of happiness. I was so happy I wanted to cry.
We spent that night in each other's arms, and many other nights.
"But I had no interest in the convent. When news came that my father had died, I left without taking my final oath and came here to continue practicing medicine and protecting my sister Brigitte. She was lucky not to attract my father's attention, because she was just a child when I entered the convent."
Our mutual confessions brought back many memories, some happy, some terrible. We threw ourselves into each other's arms, seeking comfort and pleasure there.
For the first time in my life, I had the courage to explore another woman's private parts. I found Ursula's vagina to be passionately sweet. Her love juice poured onto my lips, and I inhaled deeply, letting her pink rosebud bloom early. Ursula then inserted her fingers into my body, teaching me how pleasurable the friction of flesh against flesh could be. Our bodies, tongues, and fingers became one, and our love juice flowed freely. We slept soundly in each other's arms. When I awoke, I was surprised to find Ursula already up, examining my knightly attire with great interest. "What's this for? And this?" she asked, seemingly particularly interested in my clothing.
"Try it on and you'll see!" I replied, fully recovered, leaping from the bed, eager to resume our unarmed battle. I picked up my close-fitting short leather jacket and brought it close to Ursula's nose. "It smells like you. Help me put it on, please," she pleaded.
I draped the jacket over Ursula's shoulders, leaving the front open so her chest remained bare. Next came the leather turban I wore under my helmet, and then deerskin gloves to protect my teeth from the rough chainmail. Then, I fastened the breastplate over the short leather jacket, making sure Ursula could feel the indescribable thrill of the cool metal against her bare skin.
As I armed her, she trembled with joy, and I too felt a surge of excitement. I left the rest of her body naked so I could play with her more easily. My probing tongue quickly brought her to pleasure. "If I were a knight, your sword would be mine!" Ursula gasped. "Therefore, I command you to bend over and lie face down on the bed so I can punish your indecent behavior."
I obeyed, spreading my legs wide enough, for I didn't know what she wanted. I had just bent over and braced myself against the edge of the bed when I felt the back of the sword against my buttocks. The sensation was both painful and pleasurable, and my juices quickly dripped from my genitals
. Then I felt something cool, hard, yet smooth enter my body. It wasn't a penis, but it was similar in shape and size. I suddenly realized that Ursula was thrusting into me with the hilt of the sword.
This feeling was extraordinary; my lover was fucking me, and with the most unusual, most pleasurable penis. She reached out and pressed her gloved fingers against my clitoris, and the long-awaited pleasure erupted like thunder. Just then, the door opened, and I saw Ursula's sister, Brigitte, enter. My heart sank: it didn't matter that my most trusted lover, Ursula, knew my secret, but Brigitte would surely tell!
My worries were unnecessary, because Brigitte closed the door and ran into the room with a joyful cry: "Oh!"
"Fantastic! My dear Sir Lysian is a woman! May I play with you? Please, please grant my request!" As soon as
she entered the room, she stripped naked, revealing the whip marks she had suffered the day before. I must admit, although I was devoted to dear Ursula, her sister Brigitte's skill in licking was truly exceptional; any knight would have been willing to enjoy
her. That's how I swore an oath with the chaste Ursula, making her my eternal companion and intimate confidante. She was also the ideal lover of the equally chaste Sir Lysian. That's how I acquired a new squire, slender and sexy, that's true, but her skills and wisdom are unmatched.
Chapter Nine: King Arthur.
Of all the stories the knights told on that night, none can compare to the last—the story of the female knight. Worse still, the female knight possessed such transcendent feelings. Camelot Castle had never witnessed such a serious breach of chivalric code.
"Hey, that's wonderful!" the veiled witch exclaimed. "If I possessed such feelings, you could indeed be my lover... but who can say I don't?"
"Enough!" Sir Galahad cried, regaining his composure first. "You've heard our story. Now you must choose who will be your sacrifice, and you must keep your word and release Merlin."
"Dear Sir Galahad, one of you hasn't told us your story yet!"
"The King? Absolutely not!"
"Oh, sir, only if the King himself joins our little game can the deal be made."
"Your Majesty, what do you say? Will you tell me your story?"
The King remained silent for a long time, considering the question. As he did so, the veiled tormentor rudely strode up the steps, ascended the throne, and sat down comfortably.
Witnessing this unbearable act, King Arthur immediately took action: "My lady, I will share my story with you, but none of my past experiences can compare to the one you hear tonight."
"Your Majesty," a hissing voice seemed to come from his mind, "you cannot lie; it is not befitting your status and position." King Arthur looked up and saw the witch standing beside him again, her icy hand about to touch his shoulder. "Tell us how a young king enjoys the widow of a victim."
The witch's icy touch tormented King Arthur's soul like lightning, making him unable to remain silent or lie. Thus, he had no choice but to submit to the irresistible force.
(From "The Story of King Arthur and the Widow Magath")
When I ascended the throne, I was still a child, untested and still somewhat afraid of my identity, for I had never dreamed that one day I would become the king of this blessed land. I was equally ignorant of women. My only experience of physical pleasure came from experiments with other young men. At that time, I was just a young guard, and I knew nothing of women's bodies and desires.
Shortly after I ascended the throne, a serious rebellion broke out, and control of the Kingdom of Britain was in jeopardy. Some rebellious princes, led by King Loth of Orkney, rose up against my rule, attempting to break away from Camelot's leadership. I understood that if I did not fight for my kingdom, I would become a destitute and alone man. Therefore, I led my troops into the rebel kingdom. The war lasted for months, with countless deaths and injuries. But justice prevailed, and in the end, only King Loth's troops opposed me. We reached an agreement to fight a final battle to settle the score, with the victor becoming king.
This battle took place on a terrible, overcast day. At midday, the sky was filled with dark clouds, foreshadowing death and destruction. The battle was extremely brutal and evenly matched. But as dusk fell, King Lot was at a disadvantage. In the ensuing close combat, I cut him down from his horse. His supporters, seeing their king dead, surrendered to me, and I once again declared myself King of Britain.
I was young and impetuous, and eager to cut off Lot's head and display it on the iron stakes outside his castle gates as a warning to others that rebellion against King Arthur would only lead to self-destruction. However, my advisors persuaded me to take a more moderate and humane approach. Therefore, I limited the celebrations to a victory parade of my soldiers from the battlefield to King Lot's castle. We entered the castle carrying blazing torches. The firelight made our faces look like demons, filling the defeated with terror. The prisoners rode silently as we crossed the drawbridge, gathering in the castle courtyard. There, I summoned the late king's wife,
Queen Magath, to meet me. She came out of the gate and into the outer courtyard of the castle. She approached me with grace and dignity, which infuriated me, for my youthful pride was too strong. The wife of the defeated enemy, instead of tearing at her hair and weeping before me, smiled charmingly at me, which infuriated me.
"Come here," I commanded her. She obeyed, but I couldn't help feeling that she did it of her own volition, not because I ordered her to. "Kneel before me."
"Your Majesty, you may do as you please." Her maid laid a cloth for her on the cobblestones, and she knelt before me, but instead of bowing her head, she looked up at me without fear.
"Madam, I killed your husband," I told her deliberately cruelly. "Everything he once owned is mine now, including you. You are mine, and you must do what pleases me."
"Your Majesty, indeed," she said, her cornflower-blue eyes unblinking. In fact, I began to feel those eyes piercing me like daggers
. "You may leave," I said to her, "but I command you to instruct the servants to prepare a grand feast tonight. We will celebrate my victory over your wicked, rebellious husband, that bastard king of the impoverished kingdom of Orkney."
I expected my vulgarities to elicit a passionate defense of her husband, or his kingdom, but I was utterly disappointed, for she merely managed a weak smile, rose, and curtsied. "Everything will be arranged as you wish, Your Majesty." Then she turned and hurried toward the castle hall to arrange the evening's celebrations. I had not yet seen a trace of despair in her, and I began to feel a sense of emptiness in my victory. In the evening, I remained in the room I had seized, this luxurious house that had once belonged to the late King Loth. I removed my armor, bathed, bandaged my wounds, and lay down on the soft, large bed that the late king must have often shared with his beautiful wife.
Magas was indeed a feast, but was she perhaps too lavish for a mere child like me? The thought of her expression when she spoke to me, of her fearlessness even in the face of danger, fueled my rage. Didn't she know she was my trophy, that I could do whatever I wanted with her? Didn't she realize that I might, in a moment of impulse, throw her to the soldiers to share? Let's see if those ravenous soldiers will spare her. I want to see the Widow Magas; I must admit she's attractive to me.
As a thirty-year-old woman, she's young and mature, very stimulating for a man who hasn't lost his virginity. Young girls don't attract me. But a mature woman like Magas… I feel my penis trembling in agreement. I pull it out, caressing it, thinking that in winning this hard-won victory, I should savor this innocent pleasure.
I hold my testicles in my left hand, gently kneading the velvety smooth scrotum with my fingers, making it taut, anticipating the sudden thrust. I thrust my penis in and out with my right hand, thinking of Lady Magas: long golden hair, arrogant blue eyes, her slender, supple body, though cold, undeniably alluring. I wondered what it would be like to insert my penis into her body, to make her spread her legs and submit to me, for I was the conqueror. I imagined Magas before me: kneeling on the cold cobblestones of the inner courtyard, only then would she no longer stare at me with those arrogant, furious eyes. Her cornflower-blue eyes would be filled with tears, lowered, fitting her current status. Everything about her embodied submission and shame. I watched with satisfaction as her head hung low, her hands clenched, tears slowly streaming down her cheeks. I could kiss away her tears,
but I vowed to take a more cruel, more satisfying action. The sword was drawn, and I raised it high, letting the small glow of the torch gleam over its sharp blade. Although Magas dared not look up, I heard her panting. I looked down and saw her trembling at my feet. I cruelly raised the sword with both hands, then lowered it, the tip pressed against Magas's lily-like throat. Commendably, she didn't flinch, perhaps out of fear—fear that a sudden movement would provoke me into violence, or that in my startled state, my hand would slip…
I suddenly slashed downwards, tearing open Magas's thick brocade robe from the collar to her knees, ripping through all her inner garments to reveal her alluring skin, like peeling away the outer skin to get a more juicy, sweet fruit.
"Oh, spare me, spare me, my master!" Magas cried, but I smiled cruelly, rolling up my robe and pulling out my penis to show her, letting her admire the magnificent form of the instrument that was about to humiliate her body.
Although she was still crying, I forcibly pried open her lips and shoved my penis into her warm, full mouth. I placed her hands on my testicles, letting her caress them, and then I gently thrust my penis in and out of her noble throat, letting my royal semen flow in her mouth.
Then I released her; she thought the torment was over, but I forced her to lie on the ground, stripping her of her last shred of dignity. I rode her, and she trembled beneath me. I drove this thoroughbred mare until we reached the fence, where we became one, entering a vast climax in the dazzling sunlight.
I returned to reality and found myself not witnessing Mrs. Margas's humiliation, but lying in her late husband's bedroom. Yet, the scene truly excited me, almost making me collapse. I pumped and kneaded faster, bringing myself to orgasm, watching with pleasure as the semen flowed through my hands, imagining it shooting onto Queen Magath's arrogant face.
I donned my finest royal robes—purple velvet trimmed with sable—determined to make a grand display at the evening's celebration.
The hall was filled with the flags of my knights, planted alongside those of the rebellious king and his cronies; the defeated knights' flags were torn in half, a truly pitiful sight. All the prisoners were forced to sit in chains at the table to dine with their new ruler, knowing in their hearts that a single misstep could send them to their doom.

[The End]

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