by Toni Sands
Growling like a tiger scenting a female on heat, he lifted Sibilla off him, clinging to her waist so they sank to the floor, landing on the massive, shaggy bearskin that covered the flagstones. She crouched like a tigress then. Pulling down her gown. Wriggling out of its luxurious folds. Naked in the firelight, she waited for him to shuck off his clothes. His forearms and chest muscles rippled. His erection, once freed, drew a gasp from Sibilla.
Each of them dropped on all fours. The knight and the witch, two animals sharing one desire. The witch dipped a hand between her thighs to stroke herself. The knight’s eyes glazed with lust.
‘You make me wet with wanting,’ she crooned. ‘This is one game we can both win.’
She turned her back to him, sticking her rump into the air so he could take her from behind. Gavin felt the soft, tufted bearskin beneath his bare knees. Felt his rock-hard erection slip through Sibilla’s welcoming slit, and pushed himself inside her as far as he could reach. She called out. A cry of triumph – a cry of delight as he began the first part of his journey. He thrust. She squeezed. He gasped and thrust. Harder this time. She cooed, and squeezed herself around him more relentlessly this time. He rocked back and forth – back and forth. She took every inch of him, encouraging him to hurt her.
‘Pinch me,’ she hissed. ‘Dig your nails into me. Make my body remember you as well as my mind.’
Like a pile driver, Gavin plunged into her warm, wet cavern. Sibilla used every muscle, every wriggle, every trick in the book to drive him on and on. Her cunny enveloped him like a sumptuous, hot, velvety mouth. And he wanted nothing more than to spend within her depths. At that moment he felt the full strength of the male marauder, but she was a match for him. His apprehension melted like candle wax, along with his inhibitions about how a lady should be treated.
‘Jupiter on a handcart! You fuck like a whore of Satan,’ he threw at her.
‘That’s because I am,’ she yelled. ‘Finger my frills, knight. Slow down that throbbing beast of yours and rub your fingers round me. In and out and back again. Feel my juices. Bring me to the edge. Only then shall your cock empty itself in paradise.’
Gavin slowed his thrusts. Clenched his jaw. Ever the chivalrous knight, even when wrapped around an evil sorceress’s naked body, he obeyed her wish, like the gentleman he was. Did as Sibilla ordered. Two fingers of one hand moved to her waiting slit. One finger of the other teased the little puckered place left unattended. Until now. He felt the tightness, the resistance. Pushed his finger inside that little bit further. Heard the witchy gasp of greed.
She gasped even more under his dual onslaught. Gavin, longing for release, felt a moment of triumph as she squirmed and whimpered beneath his fingers while they probed inside her body, front and back.
‘Is this what madam desires?’ His words rang out.
‘Yes,’ she gasped. ‘Yes, yes, yes, damn you.’
‘Maybe I shall stop, then.’
‘Stop and I’ll have you thrown to the wolves.’
Gavin knew she meant it. ‘Then you shall have it,’ he said. ‘Show me how a witch conducts herself when she wants to squeeze a man dry!’
With a supreme effort, he held on until the rising crescendo of Sibilla’s voice told him what he wanted to hear. Gently he removed his finger from her secret little place. Plunged deep, deep inside her from behind, holding her close against him with his free hand, continuing to rub, stroke, and pinch her swollen cunny lips and her puffed-up little shaft while he quickened his strokes. He hammered into her as though his life depended upon it, which it probably did. She cried out for more. And more. And more.
Dazzled by lust, excited beyond belief by the herbal potion he’d drunk, desperate to reach orgasm, Gavin slammed inside her while she shrieked and moaned towards her climax.
‘Now!’
Was that her or was it him? He was beyond caring. Gavin roared as he spent himself. For a moment, he thought he might die there inside the witch, naked on a bearskin, instead of clothed in chainmail while fighting to the death in a battle against barbarians.
Sibilla cried out. A joyful, triumphant yelp, sending two pages scurrying and sniggering as they made their way along the circular corridor of the White Tower towards a certain chamber.
‘You fuck like the devil incarnate,’ whispered Sibilla, as knight and witch broke apart to lie breathless, side by side in the firelight.
Gavin smiled to himself. A compliment indeed.
And in his private quarters, Ethan, riveted by the fascinating view through his secret spy hole, marvelled at the beauty of the knight. Rose to admit the two pages he’d summoned to attend him. Rewarded them with a goblet apiece of golden liquid.
‘Now perform for me,’ he said.
Chapter Four
‘Eat.’
Gavin hadn’t realised how ravenous he was until the food arrived, carried by two girls dressed so scantily he blinked. Looked away. Looked back again, enjoying the rare sight of bare legs, soft flesh and inviting, sparkling eyes. Damsels in his world obeyed their mothers and aunts and maidservants. They didn’t flaunt themselves. This whole scenario felt like a fantasy. He needed sustenance, but he felt he could bed those two pretty wenches as easily as he could rip into the succulent roast chicken on the platter before him.
‘If you want them waiting in your bedchamber, you have only to say.’ Sibilla reached for her goblet. A light, refreshing wine had replaced the honey-sticky brew of earlier. ‘Anything is possible in my world.’
The witch’s smirk intrigued and irritated Gavin. He sat upright. ‘You tempt me with all these delights. But what I need to know is what evil plan you have for me. Am I to be killed at dawn? Sacrificed to your odious master now you’ve had what you wanted from me?’
The witch smiled. ‘I answer to no single entity, my young knight. But let’s not speak of fallen angels or the struggle between good and evil. I make my own rules. I’ve never thought one life per human was adequate.’
‘I have to admire your arrogance,’ he said.
She preened herself. ‘I stole the source of my power from a wizard who thought to outgrow his fancy laced boots. This personage ventured into my realm, seeking to dominate me.’
‘Bad mistake?’
Sibilla threw back her head and chuckled. She reached for a hunk of seeded bread and dipped it into a dish containing the richest, most fragrant olive oil Gavin had ever tasted.
‘What happened?’ he asked. Somehow the enchantress seemed more vulnerable when eating.
She licked her fingers and nibbled at the bread. ‘He tried to seduce my daughter while he thought my attention was elsewhere, among other things.’
‘Tried?’ He wondered what the daughter was like. Told himself not to go there.
‘Tried but did not succeed. She’s young and destined for better things.
‘How young?’
‘She has lived for 200 years as you know them.’ She smirked as Gavin’s jaw slackened.
‘Later, I drugged the sorcerer’s wine and stole his most precious, most cherished possession while he slept. That trick rendered him powerless and restored to his original, puny human form. Taught him a lesson.’
Icy fingers travelled the length of Gavin’s spine. Some lesson that must have been! He stared at Sibilla. ‘I swear that sweet wine wasn’t what it seemed. Have you already poisoned me?’
‘Of course not, you foolish boy. Why would I spoil my fun in such a way? We have a way to go yet, you and me.’
‘This is about your fun? Isn’t it time you told me why you plucked me from my own world and transported me to this crazy kingdom? Your servants fornicate by the fountain. I saw what looked like a huge purple dragon prancing around with a couple of Barbary apes – does no one do anything worthwhile around here?’
‘I don’t keep a posse of oversexed knights dancing round my table like my old friend Arthur does,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve better things to occupy me.’
‘Who is Arthur?’
She frowned, then her face relaxed. ‘Of course – where you come from, he hasn’t been born yet. But I intend sending you somewhere you can play at brave knights and pretty damsels till you achieve what I expect you to.’
‘I take my duties as a knight very seriously.’ Gavin’s eyes glittered. ‘I’m on the side of justice – of heroism in the face of adversity. I’m not interested in playing your game.’
Brave words, but Sibilla’s eyes prevented him from saying more. How could they suddenly become so cold? So menacing. He sank back against the silken cushions, forcing himself to withstand the penetrating gaze nailing him to the couch. Knights weren’t accustomed to being treated as playthings. There had to be some way of escaping this power-crazed female. If this was some kind of drug-induced dream, the sooner he awoke from it the better.
The witch extended her hand towards him; at once he relaxed and struggled to his feet, escaping the pile of comfortable cushions.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, knight,’ said Sibilla.
‘Another day of silliness? I can’t wait.’
‘Don’t be petulant. It doesn’t suit you. Tomorrow you leave.’
‘You’re sending me home?’ He knew it was too good to be true.
Her shriek of derision echoed in his ears as he made his way back to his bedchamber. If only he could discover the source of her power. Could he bribe one of her servants? Common sense told him she’d hardly divulge such a potent secret for fear of crashing and burning like the sorcerer before her.
His only hope lay in escape. Once he left the environs of Sibilla’s realm and travelled deeper into the kingdom of Arcandos to meet his destiny, he might meet someone prepared to aid him overcome the beautiful yet sinister witch.
How this could be achieved remained unanswered as sleep claimed the knight and lurid dreams titillated his mind.
Chapter Five
At dawn next day, Gavin awoke to hear sounds of movement in the courtyard below his tiny window. He saw Sarum, his beloved horse, shimmering like ebony in the sunshine and trotting around, looking fresh, frisky, and totally at ease. Unlike his master.
He dressed himself in the battle-scarred apparel he’d worn on his long journey. He’d become separated from a group of fellow knights after a last skirmish when they’d plunged into the midst of a rabble. Now he wondered whether Sibilla had engineered that, in order to set him on the path towards the portal separating his world and hers. His tired chainmail and battle-scarred breastplate hardly seemed fit for a knight setting out on a secret mission.
As soon as he was ready, a knock on the chamber door preceded the arrival of Ethan.
‘Breakfast before you leave, sir?’
‘I think so, Ethan. Do you know where I’m going? Do I travel alone?’
But the older man merely smiled, inclined his head, and led the way along the winding corridor and down the stairs to a small chamber where a table had been prepared. Gavin’s eyes widened at sight of the luscious heaps of fresh fruit: raspberries, blueberries, apricots, fresh figs, and the biggest black grapes he’d ever seen. Ethan poured a draught of light golden ale into two goblets and indicated that the knight should be seated.
‘No magic show this morning?’ Gavin took a draught of ale, wiped his lips, and cut himself a hunk of goat’s cheese.
Ethan shook his head. ‘Don’t fight her, my boy. Destiny has led you to this moment. You have a chance to play for high stakes. My advice to you is to seize it and examine the consequences afterwards.’
Gavin looked more closely at the old man. ‘Am I by any chance following in your footsteps?’
Ethan nodded. ‘I too became a pawn in Sibilla’s long-lasting game. But I didn’t make the right moves. I shall live out the rest of my days in relative contentment. Until she tires of me.’ His smile was wry. ‘You have sharp wits, a much prettier face, and a quicker tongue to command or to charm. You can go far.’
‘I want to go as far as I can from Sibilla. Please don’t tell me I shall end up back here if I fail in whatever lies ahead!’ Angrily Gavin bit into a juicy peach.
‘Make sure you don’t fail. Courage, commitment to your cause, and charm in the face of adversity will be your strengths.’
Gavin groaned. ‘Presumably I shall understand all this one day?’
Ethan nodded. ‘Live for the moment. Be very aware of men who will resent you.’ He leant across the table. ‘And of women who will desire you.’
‘Is that all? It sounds uncannily similar to my own world.’
Ethan belched. ‘That’s enough for now. Eat up. Your horse is pawing the ground. You’ll find provisions for the journey strapped to your saddle.’
Gavin rode away from the castle, convinced he’d be exchanging one bizarre situation for another. He’d been instructed to follow the road until it split two ways, take the right fork, and ride until the track petered out. When he reached this point, he gave Sarum a short rest while he ate the food from the canvas satchel provided. He realised the only option left was to guide his steed through a ford, across yet another field, and up the side of a mound atop of which he would find Arcandos Castle, stronghold of Sir Tiernan, his lady Amara, and the magnificent seven Jupiter Knights.
‘How that conniving magic maker expects me to ingratiate myself into that particular dynasty beats me, Sarum.’
Gavin’s mount cocked an ear and continued to nibble at the rich, green grass. Clearly the stallion had grown accustomed to having his master’s troubles and triumphs poured into his shapely ears.
‘All we can do is keep on and wait for some kind of signal, I suppose.’ Gavin prepared to set off again. Once mounted, he laid his cheek against the thoroughbred’s handsome head and uttered a silent prayer for guidance in some shape or form.
The journey could have been a worse one. As the knight straightened himself in the saddle, he began taking notice of the abundant foliage stretching either side of the path he followed. Leafy shrubs dotted lush pastureland, stretching its arms towards plump clumps of woodland. There was plenty of green all around him but, in the distance, Gavin noticed trees bright as blood. Dark purple date palms. Pure white weeping willows jagged as frosted skeletons straight out of some strange Northern landscape. The stuff of myth and fairy tale, and no one to share it with save for his faithful horse.
Until, drifting like sycamore seeds upon the breeze, from somewhere in the distance Gavin heard the sounds of scuffling. His steed pricked up his ears. Gavin used his knees and hands to slow down the horse so they left the track and headed towards the source of the commotion.
Closer they went, the sounds more discernible now. Gavin’s mouth set in a thin line and his nostrils pinched as he identified a clear, female voice above the gruff tones and queasy-sounding grunts, uttered undoubtedly by peasants. The sounds emerged from a rickety barn set back from the track, and he lost no time in dismounting, giving three pats to Sarum’s neck then eating up the short distance to the building, his long legs pumping as he ran.
The knight burst through the door, almost wrenching it from its rusty hinges. Before him, three ruffians were indulging in a dubious kind of sport with a young woman. Her cheeks were flushed, her chestnut hair was mightily in disarray and her pretty blue gown clung to her shoulders by two ragged strips. The oafs must have forced her up on to a hay bale, and it was not difficult for Gavin to work out the rules of this particular game.
‘Bleedin’ hell, it’s one of them nancy-boy knights,’ sneered the biggest and ugliest of the gang. He leapt up onto the bale, grabbing the girl round the waist.
She sniffed. Recoiled. Shot Gavin a despairing look. ‘Please help me, my lord knight,’ she cried.
Gavin’s soft heart went into meltdown. He flexed his biceps. The big oaf made the mistake of laughing.
Gavin’s jump kick, a thing of beauty at the best of times, became a potent weapon as the toe of his boot hit the groin of the bully on the hay bale.
The big man howled in agony, let go of the maiden, and clut
ched his nether regions, tears streaming down his cheeks.
‘Jump! Get away from here!’ Gavin yelled to the girl.
She held up her gorgeous silken skirts, displaying two slender legs and a pair of creamy suede ankle boots, then launched herself from the hay bale. The other two bullies made no move to stop her, though one of them stepped forward, the blade clutched in his dirty hand glinting in the shaft of golden sunlight Gavin let into the barn when he thrust open the door.
The knight’s kick caught the bully’s hand, sending the knife skimming through the air to land beyond reach. Its startled owner wasn’t expecting the swift, hard punch that followed, knocking him off his feet straight into oblivion.
‘What have you got for me, then?’ the voice jeered.
The knight whirled round to face his third assailant. The look on his face must have quelled any thought of rebellion because this one promptly dropped to his knees. ‘Don’t kill me, my lord! Please have pity on me. I have an anxious wife and three ankle-biters to provide for.’
‘How commendable of you. Pity you didn’t think of them earlier,’ said Gavin. ‘I’ll try not to rip your trews on the way.’
With that, he grabbed the weasel-faced wimp by the scruff of the neck and hurled him across the barn. The fellow toppled awkwardly, ricocheting off the neat stack of hay bales and landing plumb in the midst of a barrow of slowly ripening manure. He lay there, groaning.
Gavin shook back his dark curls, dusted off his hands, and strode out through the door. His parting shot rang loud and clear. ‘If any of you ever treat her or any other young woman like that again, I shall know. And I shall find you.’
He needed to catch up with the girl. She was no peasant. Maybe there was a small community around here from which she’d wandered, only to fall into the hands of the scumbag trio. His sense of chivalry demanded he found her and made sure she suffered no physical injury.
