by Zadie Black
Corin yelped in pain as Delmar smacked him on the ear. “Hey, stable boy,” she snapped. “Why are you moaning?”
Corin rubbed his ear and swore under his breath. “None of your damn business,” he muttered.
Up ahead astride his great warhorse Starlock, Sir Richard was brooding over Queen Aureola.
His mind turned back to one memorable evening when he had dined with the young queen at the castle. King Gregory was away. When they sat down to sup, the Queen had invited Sir Richard to sit beside her and tell her tales of his travels. She listened with rapt attention, her wide, pale blue eyes drinking in every word he said. Sir Richard vividly remembered her as she was that night. She wore a pale green dress with a deep collar. She sat and listened to him with her left arm crossed beneath her bosom, pushing it up beneath her bodice in a way that the knight found both innocent and enticing all at once.
After he had related a few of his better war stories, she told him of her own homeland, the far off Kingdom of Koochilik. In the few brief years since she had come to Sukkonia to live, the queen had been greatly beloved by her new subjects. Yet, she told him that she often yearned for the solitude of the northern forests of her home. There she would ride in solitude for hours on her white mare, exploring the forest’s secret grottoes and sudden waterfalls.
“Ah, my lady,” said Sir Richard when he heard this, “you would love the Knight’s Wood.”
“The Knight’s Wood?” asked Queen Aureola, her ears perking up. “Tell me of it!”
Sir Richard related how, not an hour’s ride beyond the outer walls of Strokington, the King kept a royal preserve. It was well-stocked with game and only the royal forest wardens might enter it without the King’s permission. Mighty oaks stretched up to the heavens there, draped in their finest greenery. Bubbling springs sprang up from the earth, their waters rich with minerals.
“Good knight, I knew not of this ‘Knight’s Wood’!” exclaimed Queen Aureola. “When the King returns, I will beseech him that I might visit.”
Indeed, as Sir Richard was to discover, the Queen was soon in the habit of visiting the Knight’s Wood with some frequency.
A few months later Sir Richard himself was riding through the royal preserve. The wardens had been concerned about poachers operating in the woods, so the knight had taken it upon himself to go and seek out such miscreants. It was a cool early morning, and a fog lay thick upon the forest.
Sir Richard had spotted several horses tied up in a clearing. Thinking that they might well belong to the poachers - for Sir Richard knew of no others that might be in the royal forest that morning - he dismounted from Starlock, drawing his sword.
From out of the fog, he heard voices. Moving forward stealthily through the trees, he came to the edge of one of the many spring-fed pools, its waters an enchanting shade of azure. Tendrils of mist seemed to be rising from its surface. With a shock, Sir Richard saw several lovely young maidens at play in the waters, laughing as they splashed each other. They were completely naked, their limbs long and shapely and pale, their nipples firmly erect with cold. Two of the girls wrapped their arms around each other’s lithe, naked bodies and kissed each other deeply - then shrieked when another girl swam up behind and slapped one of them on her comely ass.
From the shore came laughter, and with a jolt, Sir Richard perceived that Queen Aureola was standing on the edge of the pool not twenty feet away in a long white gown.
“Come in, your highness!” the nymphs in the pool cried out to her. The queen stepped into the pool in her gown. One of her maidens splashed water upon her, laughing, and the queen shrieked. Wet, the queen’s thin gown hugged her generous breasts and plainly revealed her large, dark nipples. The queen laughed and splashed her attacker back.
Sir Richard knew that he should not be watching this, but he could not tear himself away. Thinking they were alone, the women’s talk turned lewd.
“Did the king visit you in your bedchambers last night my queen?” asked one of the girls, a pale redhead with puffy pink nipples.
“You know he did, Delmar, you were watching at the keyhole,” said another girl.
“The King was also at a keyhole, of a sort,” said Queen Aureola, making a ‘V’ with her fingers and flicking her red tongue between them lasciviously. The group of wet, naked girls tittered.
“It’s not fair, your highness,” said a third. “They say that when the king visited the old queen in her chambers, they would oft invite one of the ladies-in-waiting to play with them. But since you arrived his majesty wants only you and your… keyhole.”
“Yes, your highness,” added Delmar, “When are your faithful ladies-in-waiting going to get a taste of the royal cockmeat?”
“Sorry ladies, my keyhole alone is dedicated for the use of his majesty’s shaft - as are my other holes.”
Sir Richard found that he was uncomfortably erect as he hid behind his tree. Quietly he untied the laces of his breeches and pulled his rock hard shaft free. Slowly, he began to gently caress its swollen head.
“Oh, her majesty is so naughty!” laughed one of the girls. “Come, ladies; we must punish her!”
The naked nymphs swarmed around Queen Aureola crying, “Spank her! Spank her!”
They bent the queen over a boulder in the midst of the waters and hiked up the hem of her gown, exposing her ass. As it happened, in this position she was directly facing Sir Richard’s hiding spot, her heavy teats swaying enticingly beneath the white fabric of her soaked gown. Sir Richard spat into his hand and began to stroke his erect tool.
“One! Two!” With each wet smack of the queen’s ass, her gorgeous tits jiggled vigorously. Sir Richard was stroking his engorged member furiously now. “Three! Four! Five!” The queen moaned lightly.
“Ooh, her Majesty enjoys this, ladies!” cried Delmar.
“Truth to tell,” gasped the queen, “my liege has often had me over his knee.”
“Oh, then let’s keep going! Six! Seven! Eight!”
The queen let out a breathy wail. Sir Richard could help himself no longer. Tightening his grip on his rigid cock, he emptied his balls, spurting ropes of cum all over the tree in front of him.
The spankings dissolved into laughter. Suddenly, Sir Richard was overcome with guilt. Here he was, the king’s champion, spying on the king’s wife while he jerked himself off like a naughty stable boy. The knight tucked his cock back into his breeches and snuck away from the pool as quickly as he dared. Finding his horse where he left it, he mounted it and swiftly fled the Knight’s Wood.
Corin’s startled yelp as Delmar boxed his ear brought Sir Richard back to reality. A tightness in his breeches told him that his daydreams had had a rather large effect on him. He sighed, remembering that his luscious queen was not bathing half-naked in a spring right now, but was a prisoner of a wicked sorcerer. Anger stirred in his heart. His lovely queen had been taken by the cunning and lecherous Mordred. Sir Richard hated to think what might befall the Queen without him to protect her honor. Queen Auroela’s full lips and sensual curves might tempt even a good man, Sir Richard thought, let alone a base cur like Mordered.
“Come,” he called back to his squire, “we must pick up the pace if we are to rescue the queen!” He clicked to Starlock, and the horse whinnied. They rode on.
As dusk began to fall, they had entered the low foothills. The road began to curve as it found its way up stony hills. Sir Richard declared that they must make camp. “We cannot ride safely in the dark,” he said, “And if the queen’s captors have turned off the road, we might miss the signs.
Corin saw to the horses. Delmar laid out three bedrolls. Sir Richard got a fire going. They ate a meager meal of salted meats. It was a quiet dinner. Sir Richard was in no mood for conversation and Delmar, it seemed, still had no interest in talking to Corin. So Corin sat in silence and watched the enticing shadows that the flames cast down the décolletage of Delmar’s bodice.
By the time they had fi
nished their meal, it was quite dark. Sir Richard kicked out the fire, not wishing to attract bandits or worse. The pale moon was nearly at full and gave some light when it was not hidden behind scurrying wisps of cloud.
Sir Richard announced that he would take the first watch. He was still in a restless mood as he seated himself on an old tree stump. He had taken off his armor before they ate. He was clad only in his leather breeches, but he kept the king’s magic sword close at hand.
The knight had not kept watch half an hour when he heard a rustling sound. His hand went to the hilt of his sword, but then he saw a pale shape in the darkness.
“Where are you bound, Lady Delmar?” he asked in a low voice.
“I cannot sleep, my lord,” said Delmar quietly. Her red tresses glowed softly in the moonlight. She was dressed in a simple white linen chemise with thin shoulder straps. “I keep thinking of what might have befallen my queen,” she said. “I am frightened and lonely.”
“I, too, feel much the same, lady,” said Sir Richard.
“Truly?” asked Delmar. “I had thought a brave and noble knight such as you must be beyond such feelings.”
“Even the bravest knight of legend might fear what he cannot control,” replied Sir Richard. “And as for loneliness… this is a lonely country, is it not?”
“Then my lord,” said Delmar, “Let us comfort each other.” So saying she pushed the straps of her chemise down off her bare shoulders and pulled the garment down, exposing her budding breasts. They were not over-large, but they were perky and crowned with puffy nipples.
It was not the first time Sir Richard had laid eyes on the redhead’s soft, shapely breasts. His memory flashed back to that day at the pool in the Knight’s Wood. He thought of the redheaded girl standing in the water behind Queen Aureola, laughing each time she slapped the queen’s bare ass. These thoughts caused the knight’s flaccid penis to begin to harden.
Even in the dim moonlight, Delmar could not fail to miss the bulge extending down the leg of Sir Richard’s breeches. Her eyes widened. Kneeling between his knees, she unlaced his breeches. Sir Richard lifted his ass off the stump so that she could tug them down. His mighty tool, a good nine inches of engorged flesh, sprang free.
The lady-in-waiting gasped. “Sir Richard of the Lance, indeed! You are well-named, my lord.” She gripped the length of his shaft and began to rub it between her tits and against her nipples. Sir Richard groaned at the touch of his inflamed cock to her gentle flesh. Delmar lowered her head and tenderly kissed the small hole at the swollen tip of his cock. She licked the channel beneath it, causing him to moan. Then she cradled his heavy testicles with her hands as she bent toward him. She kissed and nibbled his enormous prick. “Oh Sir Richard,” she gasped, between nibbles, “Your lance is so mighty and firm. Truly, I’ve never seen the like before.” She ran her enthusiastic tongue up the underside of his shaft. “I want it in my mouth. May I suckle you, my lord?”
The knight grunted and nodded. Gently, Delmar took his hot, throbbing meat into her mouth. She started with just the tip, which nearly filled her whole mouth on its own. But then she relaxed her tongue and her throat and took Sir Richard’s shaft deeper and deeper until his massive cock completely filled her mouth and was well down her throat. She held him that way for a moment, caressing his cockmeat with her tongue before she was forced to pull it out with a gasp.
Sir Richard took a shaky breath. He had had many a maiden attend to his powerful member before, but never had he experienced fellatio like this. “My Lady Delmar,” he breathed, “I think you are in truth a filthy little cockslut.”
“Mmm, I am, my lord,” sighed Delmar. “I’m a wanton little cockslut. All day my brain has been swimming with thoughts of your meat in my mouth.” She gave his cock another long stroke with her tongue.
Suddenly Sir Richard felt something boiling up in him. All his frustration and lust combined, swirling together within his stomach. Violently he hoisted Delmar with his muscular arms, then turned her around and threw her down on her stomach on the grassy earth. He hiked the hem of her white chemise up to her waist. Then he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her bare ass, exposing it to the night air.
The little pink knot of her anus was tight and virginal. Long, meaty cuntflaps lay between her pussy lips, which were thatched with a delta of pale orange down. With two fingers he parted Delmar’s meaty labia, revealing a slick pink channel. A string of honeyed moisture dripped out of it and ran down the girl’s coltish thighs.
“Are you truly a wanton cockslut, Lady Delmar? Because such sluts deserve to be punished,” panted Sir Richard.
“Y-y-yes,” whispered Delmar.
Kneeling astride the back of her thighs, Sir Richard pushed his hardened shaft between her legs. The head burrowed among her meaty folds until it found the tight entrance to her vagina. “Time for Richard of the Lance to claim your filthy fuckhole,” growled the knight. Then, with a single, merciless stroke he thrust deep into her. Delmar bit back a scream. She felt his rigid cock fill her up completely, stretching the walls of her pussy and ramming against her cervix.
“My lord,” she panted, “be careful. You’re so big!”
Sir Richard said nothing, but he momentarily pulled his cock out of her pink hole and spread her legs wide. Then he rammed his shaft deep into Delmar’s pussy once more, so that his swollen balls slapped against her pink clit with a wet smack. Again and again, he thrust into her, impaling her on his throbbing pole with each moist slap.
Despite Delmar’s protests and gasps, her cunt relaxed to accommodate the legendary knight’s enormous tool, and she found that his powerful thrusts became increasingly pleasurable. Each time he pulled back, her nether lips gripped his lengthy shaft tightly, as if unwilling to let go. Her white chemise, bunched around her midriff, was soiled and stained by the grass as Sir Richard fucked her roughly on the ground.
On the other side of the campsite, beneath his blanket, Corin the squire squirmed and stroked his young cock vigorously as he listened to Sir Richard and Delmar rutting.
Soon the young lady-in-waiting felt a flush coming over her body, a burning and a tingling that spread from her quim to the tips of her puffy nipples. “By the gods, Sir Richard,” she gasped, “I’m about to cum! I’m cumming! Oh, gods fuck me -” Her voice trailed off as spasms of pleasure wracked her lithe, pale body.
Sir Richard felt her pleasure reach its climax, felt her body shake and the walls of her pussy contract on his meat sword as he impaled her. Yet, still, he did not let up. Grabbing her by her red tresses, he yanked on them as he slammed into her delicate hole. Pain and pleasure mingled in Delmar’s shaking body, and she found that she was cumming yet again. She mauled her sensitive tits with her hands, moaning loudly against the dirt, not caring who heard.
“Oh fuck oh FUCK!” she cried out. “Fuck your little cockslut, my lord!”
Delmar felt her juices flood her cunt. She was not dripping; she was gushing. Her well-used fuckhole felt like it was on fire. Orgasms shook her, one after another.
Beneath the sheets of his bedroll, Corin gritted his teeth and cupped his balls. Semen spurted out of his young cock, coating the inside of the cloth he was holding.
Sir Richard could hold back the tidal wave of his seed no longer. He pulled his massive, swollen lance out of Delmar’s tight pussy just in time. Hot cum erupted from his glistening tool all over the prone lady-in-waiting. Gobs of cum pooled on her back or landed in her ass crack, where they dribbled down to coat her battered pussy. Sir Richard lowered himself onto her. He wiped the excess cum on his rod upon her slender thigh. Then he stood up, pulled up his breeches, and walked off into the night without a word.
Delmar lay there panting for a while, cum dripping down her orifices. At last, she too got up. Pulling off her stained and dirty chemise, she walked naked down to the nearby stream to wash herself and her undergarment. Returning the campsite, she hung the wet garment over a tree branch and then crawled na
ked under the covers of her bedroll. Exhausted, her vagina already tender and sore, she fell immediately into a deep sleep.
Corin watched from beneath half-closed eyelids as Delmar climbed naked into bed. He too soon slept.
Only Sir Richard of the Lance, sated but somehow not satisfied, stayed awake and watchful into the night.
Chapter Three: Dark Roads and Dark Deeds
Delmar rose with the first light of dawn, still naked, and trotted toward where her white chemise hung from a tree branch, her pale bosoms bouncing. As she reached the tree, she sensed movement and turned quickly. Sir Richard was standing there. He looked at her for a moment without expression, and then shrugged and turned away to attend to his horse.
Delmar found that her chemise was smudged with grass stains and still damp, but she pulled it on anyway. A change of underclothes was one of the many things which there had not been room to bring.
Clad in her soiled shift, she returned to her bedroll and began to put on the rest of her clothes.
“Stable boy!”
