Blood Knight
Posted: Tue Jul 10, 2012 4:29 pm
Filthy savages. That is the only way I can describe these creatures. I glare at them from behind the murderholes. Time and again, these… Orcs, batter at the wall our lady Glacius raised. Unfortunately, I do not have time to engage them. I need to carry out my duty. I touch the hilt of my sword, hearing their mewling cries, those disgusting voices whining.
The sound of a trebuchet firing as the Siege Engineers call targets, heralds what tears me away. Heaven’s Path keep is besieged by these foul porcine beasts. I can hear them screaming now, burning oil being thrown. We tried multiple times to kill their commander, and we noticed she is unscathed by our artillery attacks. There is a cleric in their midst, and this troubles Dame Glacius. We have not heard back from his Lordship Tartaros in…
Two weeks. I recall the detail because I carried that message to Dame Glacius as well, and that had been when these porcine bitches arrived. They were here to take Heaven’s Throne for the glory of that bitch they serve, the High Harlot. I blow blonde hair out of my eyes. The Men-At-Arms stare at me as I stride by, fixing my jerkin along the way. I have not received my accolade yet, and as such I am entitled to neither mail, nor spurs. But still I have Ascalon, and he has served me well.
I just wish it was still in my father’s hands. I wish we had been given the privilege of burying him, not being sent his arms and armour by the Knights who killed the Incubus he had become. From the report mother received… it had not been a pretty sight. I buried her the week after, they said it was pneumonia, but I knew the look in her eyes, heartbreak.
Damn them. I tighten my grip on Ascalon. The cold steel, even through my leather gauntlets is all that is keeping me here, and not over the wall, screaming my vengeance at them. We had lost three of the yeomen that way. Granted, they were lowborn, little better than the pigs they had been tasked with dropping stones upon, but their deaths still forced us to double the length of our watches.
I finally reach the door. I wait before it. She never allows it opened in the daylight. I stare up at the clouds overcast. The Yeomen would be breaking fast in a few minutes. If I wanted into her citadel, I needed to do so now. My gauntlet raps upon the door, and I hear her command to enter. She knows it is me. She always knows. Shutting the thick door behind myself, and anchoring the bolt into the stone, I assume the proper position. One knee strikes the carpet of the floor, as I stare at it. She has been pacing, wearing the carpet with her boots. I can smell her perfume. A week ago, I would chastise myself for this foolishness, but in the middle of combat, I do not have the time to even notice.
“Alexander, is something the matter?”
“Dame Glacius, we have lost five more Yeomen. They were shot down by snipers from the look of the blood. No bodies were found, but I personally searched the castle for them and found no one. It is myself, ten men at arms, and you, My lady. We have received no word of relief from High Commander Tartaros, and the other Knights Loslorien are out of the country. What are your orders?”
I do not need to see her face to know it has blanched. Ever since that business in Xytegenia, she has hated working with the other Dark Knights. I still feel the sting of her slap at my inquiry of that business. With only Lanselot returning alive... She barely even speaks to HIM, and the rumours said he was the one who stopped Baalxephon…
“I want you to stop taking Daylight patrol. You are to gather your things, and move to my quarters. I want your watch period to overlap with mine by two hours, effective tonight. Go quickly. I will unbar the door for you.”
“As you wish,” She is selling them to their dooms. I suppose she has a plan for us to escape. I rise, and turn to leave when I stumble, catching myself on the door frame. I shake my head, and I doubt she even notices.
There is stillness to the outside. The Trebuchets are no longer firing… I see no Yeomen operating them. My hand drifts to Ascalon. And I see three of them crest over the ladders to my left. Damn those incorrigible pigs, peasants and monsters both! I draw Ascalon, the blade singing as he comes forth, and I hold the sword defensively before me. The porcine beasts look at me with a mixture of adoration, and hunger.
“It’s him Gretta. The one who smells like her...” I shut their words out as I explode forwards, swinging my blade in a crescent arc up and into a two handed slash. It forces one of them to step back, and I feel the predatory smirk of combat cross my face. She’s a stripling. And with the raw need she shows as I drive her back, out stripping her companions by sheer desperation… A virgin as well... No need to draw it out, I pull my arms back, moving for a thrust, and find two sets of arms grappling mine. Ascalon is torn from me by the stripling.
“DAMN YOU PORCINE FILTH! UNHAND ME!” My boot nearly lands in the striplings face, but she is able to stop me before I can connect. And that’s when she jerks my leg a way it is not meant to go. The snapping noise is the last one I hear as my consciousness begins to slip…
--
The pain is the first thing that I notice. It feels rather like I am broken all over… I barely have the energy to open my eyes. None of those damn Yeomen are nearby. My face is against something warm. I notice that there is feeling, rapidly cooling moisture against my leg, and I almost scream when I try to twist my body to inspect it.
A soft pair of hands easily keeps me down. Vastly stronger than the strength in my shoulders or waist, I hear a childish giggle, only to look into yellowish skin, and red hair. More skimpy raiment and an almost childlike expression… A Hobgoblin... I sigh, and lay back. She does not try to talk, instead just lying down beside me, hugging me under what seems to be a fur. I noticed that I am stripped to what feels to be the waist. The familiar feeling of my sword belt is gone. I almost start, but she nuzzles into my shoulder, and this time I begin to regain some of the clarity to my mind. Should she not be trying to fornicate with me...
Then I feel her hand running along my thighs, and my… erherm… ‘lance’. Her fingers are tracing along it, and soon she is cupping my stones, and I must admit, she is surprisingly gentle with me. I exhale, closing my eyes. In my condition, trying to resist would do more damage to me than I can risk. I can let her play with my body like it is a new toy as much as she likes. It gives me time to recuperate.
Until I feel her begin to tear my pants off. Then I find myself in a much more serious predicament. I try to struggle, only to find her stopping, and going back to that nuzzling of my shoulder, and gentle embrace. I wonder if that is not her way of asking me to calm down…
And then she began to kiss my body. Exceptionally gentle this one seemed to be. And soon I find myself beginning to drift off. It is warm, and I can begin to pick out the din of talking, faint moans in the distance; the sounds of trebuchet firing… I am maybe two hundred, possibly even two hundred and fifty yards from the Citadel… Well behind the reinforcement lines…
Her hands are running along my body, and leaving some sort of cold paste in their wake. I look at it. It’s a translucent grey-green. Nothing quite compared to a Bubble Slime, this is definitely just a paste of some kind… and it feels as if it is sinking the cold into my bones… She wraps me tighter in the furs, hugged to me within them again, and is rocking me gently. She is taking such… care…
I nod back off again.
--
The feeling of something entrapping me wakes me with a start. I groan, but the pain is nowhere near as excruciating. I look to see… One of the peasants…? A Yeoman… An able warrior... He is looking at me, until he slides a hand under my shoulder, pulling me up. “Alexander, please, we need to…” I look at him, and then his garb. Oh Holy Ishtar… “They did something to me… I feel warm… They tossed me into here, with you…” It is tearing the garb off of its body. And I must admit… they have torn apart the slim boy who had fought at my back with a spear. This… thing, has firm ‘A’ cup breasts, slim hips, and perky nipples. Milky pale skin, scar and callous free…
I dig my hands into the fur, forcing myself up. My legs were tangled in the fur, but I kick it at the Alp, blinding it for a moment. “Not even high enough to resist, yoooooouu….” I am forced to extend the vowel, because a hand is on my shaft, stroking it. I try to pull away, but I feel something behind me now, forcing me in place. The Alp begins to crawl towards me, and I drive my eyes anywhere, so that I can focus on anything else.
I feel a warm wetness on the head of my shaft, and a tentative probing, but I block it out as best as I can, whispering to Ishtar for protection. My eyes scan over the fabric of this tent, simple burlap, no pennant that I can find. It seems to have been erected in the midst of six saplings, firm… I moan out, as the Alp begins to suck on the shaft, moving deeper. It… She... The man I fought beside is gone; this Alp is female, though she is a monster. I can feel the tip of her tongue running between the foreskin and the meeting of shaft and head, and her lips are puckered around it.
I tear my eyes away. This is blasphemous on multiple levels. I feel the warm pressure behind me shifting, and soon my head is surrounded on either side by soft, warm flesh… I see it is orange out of my peripherals, and I can feel lips on the top of my forehead. The same hobgoblin from before… She is humming to me for some strange reason. I feel something firm against the tip of my ‘lance’ and my eyes settle back on the Alp from the patch of ceiling I had been staring at, trying to will my mind elsewhere. She is just over a quarter of the way down my length, and her tongue is on the underside. The whore is so inexperienced she is going to choke on me…
Shaking my head at the irony, I look back up, only to moan as I suddenly feel her lips against the base of my shaft. I can feel her throat working around my length, and I bite my lip, realizing I am… beginning to despise this less than is proper… And soon she is sucking on the head of it again, her tongue running under it, and her hands moving to my stones, rubbing them, and running her fingertips along the underside of them… Soon, I can feel her doing both, and my teeth are beginning to sink into my lip, drawing blood, as she begins to make this feel rather good. Soon a finger is forcing its way in between my lips, and the hobgoblin as my arms pinned with one arm, and is forcing me to drink something with the other. I try to spit it out, but she forces my head back, and whatever this slimy substance is, it is spreading the warmth through my entire body.
I do not even notice my hips buck once the throbbing begins… or the Hobgoblin letting go.
I do become aware of my hips slamming into the Alp’s face, as I am now on top of her, one hand on the top of her head to get better leverage, and the other holding my weight mostly off of the whore. My mind is a haze… All I know is that I want to make her suffer. Make her get everything she wants, and choke on it. She is squealing with… Fear? Delight? And she’s sucking as hard as she can, as I begin to slam in and out of her mouth and throat. Finally, I reach my peak, and I note with satisfaction that my first shot filled her mouth from the edge of her lips, and then I continue my thrusting, making her gag and choke on my throbbing member as it spews out into her mouth. I can hear her sputtering, trying to swallow it, and I can see it beginning to bubble out of her nose.
It takes a minute and a half for me to finish, and I pull off of her, and feel the Hobgoblin’s hands on my length, running up and down it, before the last dribble falls out on the Alp’s nose. Her mouth is covered in thick grey slime, and she coughs more up, spreading to her cheeks. It is all down her breasts, soon the Hobgoblin is stroking me harder, and I groan, feeling myself get harder from her caresses, and soon, while the Alp is gasping to catch her breath, I am forced to give a second gasp, as more grey slime shoots from my length, and catches the Alp fully in the face, getting in her nose, on her forehead, and in her mouth. I finally feel the darkness coming for me, thankfully.
--
I awake, and though there is a stiff feeling in my joints, my head on something soft. A hand is stroking my hair, and a soft voice is whispering to me. “You…That was special…” My eyes partially open to see that same Alp. But now that I am staring at her, she is… womanly. Widened hips, large doughy breasts, though I will admit, not nearly big enough… wings now, which are still juvenile… “I… You were my idol. You were so pure, the Squire who led us, who protected us… Who saved me, I… I am so sorry… Look what I’ve become…” How? Could a Demon cry? Did not the High Harlot strip them of remorse? But those tears were genuine. Was this… My own corruption... But I did not FEEL different. I felt nothing but that same strength… This poor woman…
My body was acting before my mind could, shifting out of her lap, my head soon raising to her lips. I was pecking her lips, and I finally got a chance to really look at her. Her hair was as blonde as mine, though her eyes were a tinge of red from my blue, casting a soft purple to it. She mewled at my kiss, and shook. My mind was a haze, something in me protested, but I grabbed the Alp, this lowborn whore… This beautiful creature… And she caved immediately, laying back across the furs, and spreading those thick legs for me. The moment my lance entered her, she nearly screamed. Why did this feel so good… yet I feel so disgusted…
“Oh… Oh gods… Alexander… AH!” Her screams of my name matched the way her lips were forced open by the rock hard length that reflected it. She held on as tightly as a neophyte holds their sword, and it was mere seconds before I exploded into her, leaving myself exhausted again. She shifted, catching me as I collapsed against her, laying me partially over her body for a few moment before she exhibited the demonic strength of her breed, rolling me on my back, and draping herself to lay on me. All I could remember were those eyes, teary with… sorrow? pleasure?
The blackness did not come for me. I lay there, exhausted, before this… Once ally, kissed me back to some sense of energy. “Alexander… Come on… I need to get you to eat something. Even as advanced as you were before we took you… Your time unconscious with those Orcs, the Hobgoblin… And with me, you are badly malnourished…”
I groaned, recognizing the truth of her words. My stomach growled, and she helped me to my feet, the near half foot between us made apparent. Her hands strayed low, even as she helped me to a stone that I could see the obvious signs of earthen magic upon. Once I was in a sitting position, she was slowly crawling into my lap, the almost throne like boulder taking our weight easily. The water she poured, a pewter mug I had missed in my daze filled to the brim, was perhaps the sweetest I had ever tasted, never mind the dark colour. She whispered to me, soft words of affection. It was not long before I was feeling more… human, as it were.
“Do you want help dressing yourself? You’re barely able to stand.” I look at her, still half drained eyes regaining some steel to them as I close my fists.
“No. I can do it myself.” Standing, I feel my bones creaking, and look down. “Where is my jerkin? This is…”
“Our commander thought you would be better served by this. Your old raiment was discarded.” I picked up the chain mail, running it through my hands. I had never seen such beautifully woven metal, and the white gleam to it told me something was unearthly about it. “The Cyclops who made it, called it Titan’s metal, alloyed with Sten’s tongue.” I had no idea what those metals were, but it was light weight, and I placed it back on the ground with some reverence before donning new clothing, black cotton, very finely made… I admit, it is better than anything I had in the fortress, and I would venture I was dressed as well as Lady Glacius now. With that on, the blackened leather armour they left out slips on easily. The weight is familiar, almost identical to my old jerkin, and then I begin donning the chain. It slips on like water, and I watch with morbid fascination as it seems to melt into the leather. It has been magicked.
I look towards the ground, and under all of this, I see something that gives me some small sense of comfort. My sword... Reaching for Ascalon, the Alp watching passively, I belt it on. The weight of my sword at my side makes me feel a squire again. Feminine hands pull my hood forwards, supple leather and chain falling to cover my hair completely. “Thank you…”
“Alexandria. You knew me as Alex.” As if I could have remembered the name of a yeoman… The twinge of guilt is foreign to me. She was pouting at me, and running a hand along the chain armour. I imagine she wants to take it off and have me ravish her again. But she relents, her nails skimming along the links of the chains, and she stands on her tip toes, pecking my lips. I find myself leaning, and as my hand moves to cup her naked rear, I am bending with her, pulled into a kiss. She is moaning into my lips, my breath and her own mingling…
I eventually pull away, feeling her quivering through my armour. She grabs me by the hood, and pulls me back for another kiss, this one letting her slip her tongue into my mouth for a few moments, and I can taste a bitterness that almost make me wish to wretch, but I refrain. Some semblance of my control is back, but her lips are still soft, and her eyes are still filled with desperation. I eventually break off the kiss, and she smiles at me, dreamily. “Squire… You’re…” She sighs, and turns, slowly pulling on some sort of… harness for her… chest. My eyes begin to wander, sinfully, but even a prayer to Ishtar does not break my focus…I am moving forwards, and she almost giggles, and spins on me, the small strip of fabric barely hiding her nipples, the darker pink of her areolae still plainly visible. Dancing out of the way of my embrace, she makes a wagging motion with her fingers, and speaks a phrase in… Lodissian? She butchered the pronunciation, but it is effectively a remark about impatience… I find myself chuckling, and it is enough of a distraction that she is able to pull a loose wrap of a skirt around her legs. She purrs up at me, and runs her nails along the shoulder of my armour. “C’mon…” Her hand glides to pull my chain encased hand along with her, and soon we are in the midst of a city of tents. I can see the Yeomen, and the Orcs rutting as far as the eye can see. I spot the odd variation in monster, a lizard man or two, a gaggle of goblins, and a hobgoblin leading them… And…
I ignore it. I could likely kill one or two, but it would just lead to my being swarmed and torn apart. They are lost. I need to focus on… Escape… Yes. Escape… After I get something into my stomach…
The central pavilion is massive, a tent easily able to fit a hundred, and as I raise my hand, pulling aside a flap of the canvas, and holding it for the Alp who walks ahead of me with a shy grin, I am exposed to the smell of cooking venison. The scent of cooking fat, and the spices wafting in the air, that heady reek of saffron being laced in the wood via oil, and the meat… Ishtar preserve me, my hunger outstrips my arousal by the length of the Leviathan, easily. Her hand is around my wrist, and she is pulling me towards the far back of the tent. Tree logs have been broken up, and placed like seating, and she guides me to one near what I could guess is the head of the gathering. To my right is a blue haired woman that my quick survey of her apparel, and demeanour, as well as her rather ample assets, tells me is a Succubus. She is looking at me with an almost hungry stare, and the Alp is almost defensively clinging to me.
Past the bat winged temptress is something else I dread to see. Green skin, the armour that was clearly made to terrify… Horns… An Ogre... My hand unconsciously is gliding for Ascalon’s hilt, my heart beginning to triple beat in fear. Alexandria’s hands wrap around my wrist, and she slowly pulls it away. She is cooing to me, fingers gliding along the underside of my chin. The Ogre looks at me, and practically shoves the Succubus out of the way, and stands, looking down at my eyes, blue staring into red. “Alexandria. Is this the bitch’s pet?”
“Yes, Mistress Hilde. He’s… still nascent.” The Ogre’s eyes are still transfixed on mine. “He‘ll be completely converted in a few days.” Now my hand is gliding for my blade. Again, but this time, I am rising without knowing it. The Ogre is smiling at me, openly letting me see her hunger. “Alexander…?”
“Let him draw his sword Alexandria. He’s practically shaking now. I think he cares for the bitch.” My vision begins to bleed red. No one talked of Lady Glacius that way. I snarl, and the song of Ascalon being drawn drives Alexandria and the Succubus back. I hold my sword in a fencing stance, my entire weight shifting, to sink into the earth.
“My name is Alexander Brandt, son of Michael, son of Raziel. You will not disparage the name of my Lady Ozma with your filthy remarks, Ogre. Draw steel or apologize.” She smirks as her blade, a great Zweihander to any mere mortal, comes from the back of her black armour. I move, she counters, my sword is flying…
The armour is practically torn from me…
The blows hurt her armour landing in a heap, intermixed with mine. Her hips slam into mine, but I am urged by something in me to resist, make her regret this like Alexandria had… Each time I try to take control, she is pinning me again. My knowledge of brawling, learned with the Yeomen, of Pankration, learned by Commander Reikhart’s tutelage… I am drawing on both of them, and soon I have leverage, and I have her on her back, and I cannot help it. I am so… Thirsty, like my skin is on fire… I bite into her shoulder, drawing blood, just a little. The Alp, the Succubus… The three Orcs… They are backing away from my tussle with the Ogre. Her blood is flowing into my mouth, and I am lapping at the wound as I am struggling to keep her off balance…
Her hand lands in my hip, but I bite her again, the cheek this time, and she is so aroused by now that she is able to easily slip me inside, the pleasure and the pain by now intermixed. I am hammering into her kidney with my left fist, the right on her shoulder, and my body shifting erratically to keep her moving, keep her from finding her centre.
And then she has her legs around my waist, and is both squeezing on my hips, and is pulling me deeper in as I claw at her shoulder, feeling her knocking me off of my roots, and pulling me in, pummeling my midsection… I am biting her arm… “You said he was Nascent! You didn’t say he was already transformed!”
She grabs my shoulders, and slams me into the ground, and I find Alexandria, already naked, and moving to sit on my mouth, the smell of her provoking something primal in me. Her folds are over my mouth, and she purposely puts the sash that had been over her breasts over my eyes, blinding me… Ishtar’s mercy, in the form of blacking out again soon after is the only thing I could ask.
--
I awaken with a start to the reek of blood all around me. I am naked, amidst the corpses, and I am looking into her face, that beautiful, angelic face. She lifts me by my shoulder, like I weigh nothing more than a piece of cloth, and I finally can survey the carnage. Blood everywhere... It is flowing towards her and I, and flowing into her skin… My God what is going on! Alexandria, the Ogre, the Succubus, all of them, strewn about, broken, innards scattered across the pavilion. “I would not allow a single survivor, Alexander.” There is a lagoon of blood surrounding the both of us. And I can barely comprehend what has happened, except for this. Something killed all of them…
“Mi… Milady Ozma!? What… What…”
“Silence, you will understand in a moment.”
And then the searing pain. I can feel my throat being pierced by needles, and my essence passing out, but…
I feel pleasure as well.
And then I feel the blood flowing into me as well.
I am now a Knight.
The sound of a trebuchet firing as the Siege Engineers call targets, heralds what tears me away. Heaven’s Path keep is besieged by these foul porcine beasts. I can hear them screaming now, burning oil being thrown. We tried multiple times to kill their commander, and we noticed she is unscathed by our artillery attacks. There is a cleric in their midst, and this troubles Dame Glacius. We have not heard back from his Lordship Tartaros in…
Two weeks. I recall the detail because I carried that message to Dame Glacius as well, and that had been when these porcine bitches arrived. They were here to take Heaven’s Throne for the glory of that bitch they serve, the High Harlot. I blow blonde hair out of my eyes. The Men-At-Arms stare at me as I stride by, fixing my jerkin along the way. I have not received my accolade yet, and as such I am entitled to neither mail, nor spurs. But still I have Ascalon, and he has served me well.
I just wish it was still in my father’s hands. I wish we had been given the privilege of burying him, not being sent his arms and armour by the Knights who killed the Incubus he had become. From the report mother received… it had not been a pretty sight. I buried her the week after, they said it was pneumonia, but I knew the look in her eyes, heartbreak.
Damn them. I tighten my grip on Ascalon. The cold steel, even through my leather gauntlets is all that is keeping me here, and not over the wall, screaming my vengeance at them. We had lost three of the yeomen that way. Granted, they were lowborn, little better than the pigs they had been tasked with dropping stones upon, but their deaths still forced us to double the length of our watches.
I finally reach the door. I wait before it. She never allows it opened in the daylight. I stare up at the clouds overcast. The Yeomen would be breaking fast in a few minutes. If I wanted into her citadel, I needed to do so now. My gauntlet raps upon the door, and I hear her command to enter. She knows it is me. She always knows. Shutting the thick door behind myself, and anchoring the bolt into the stone, I assume the proper position. One knee strikes the carpet of the floor, as I stare at it. She has been pacing, wearing the carpet with her boots. I can smell her perfume. A week ago, I would chastise myself for this foolishness, but in the middle of combat, I do not have the time to even notice.
“Alexander, is something the matter?”
“Dame Glacius, we have lost five more Yeomen. They were shot down by snipers from the look of the blood. No bodies were found, but I personally searched the castle for them and found no one. It is myself, ten men at arms, and you, My lady. We have received no word of relief from High Commander Tartaros, and the other Knights Loslorien are out of the country. What are your orders?”
I do not need to see her face to know it has blanched. Ever since that business in Xytegenia, she has hated working with the other Dark Knights. I still feel the sting of her slap at my inquiry of that business. With only Lanselot returning alive... She barely even speaks to HIM, and the rumours said he was the one who stopped Baalxephon…
“I want you to stop taking Daylight patrol. You are to gather your things, and move to my quarters. I want your watch period to overlap with mine by two hours, effective tonight. Go quickly. I will unbar the door for you.”
“As you wish,” She is selling them to their dooms. I suppose she has a plan for us to escape. I rise, and turn to leave when I stumble, catching myself on the door frame. I shake my head, and I doubt she even notices.
There is stillness to the outside. The Trebuchets are no longer firing… I see no Yeomen operating them. My hand drifts to Ascalon. And I see three of them crest over the ladders to my left. Damn those incorrigible pigs, peasants and monsters both! I draw Ascalon, the blade singing as he comes forth, and I hold the sword defensively before me. The porcine beasts look at me with a mixture of adoration, and hunger.
“It’s him Gretta. The one who smells like her...” I shut their words out as I explode forwards, swinging my blade in a crescent arc up and into a two handed slash. It forces one of them to step back, and I feel the predatory smirk of combat cross my face. She’s a stripling. And with the raw need she shows as I drive her back, out stripping her companions by sheer desperation… A virgin as well... No need to draw it out, I pull my arms back, moving for a thrust, and find two sets of arms grappling mine. Ascalon is torn from me by the stripling.
“DAMN YOU PORCINE FILTH! UNHAND ME!” My boot nearly lands in the striplings face, but she is able to stop me before I can connect. And that’s when she jerks my leg a way it is not meant to go. The snapping noise is the last one I hear as my consciousness begins to slip…
--
The pain is the first thing that I notice. It feels rather like I am broken all over… I barely have the energy to open my eyes. None of those damn Yeomen are nearby. My face is against something warm. I notice that there is feeling, rapidly cooling moisture against my leg, and I almost scream when I try to twist my body to inspect it.
A soft pair of hands easily keeps me down. Vastly stronger than the strength in my shoulders or waist, I hear a childish giggle, only to look into yellowish skin, and red hair. More skimpy raiment and an almost childlike expression… A Hobgoblin... I sigh, and lay back. She does not try to talk, instead just lying down beside me, hugging me under what seems to be a fur. I noticed that I am stripped to what feels to be the waist. The familiar feeling of my sword belt is gone. I almost start, but she nuzzles into my shoulder, and this time I begin to regain some of the clarity to my mind. Should she not be trying to fornicate with me...
Then I feel her hand running along my thighs, and my… erherm… ‘lance’. Her fingers are tracing along it, and soon she is cupping my stones, and I must admit, she is surprisingly gentle with me. I exhale, closing my eyes. In my condition, trying to resist would do more damage to me than I can risk. I can let her play with my body like it is a new toy as much as she likes. It gives me time to recuperate.
Until I feel her begin to tear my pants off. Then I find myself in a much more serious predicament. I try to struggle, only to find her stopping, and going back to that nuzzling of my shoulder, and gentle embrace. I wonder if that is not her way of asking me to calm down…
And then she began to kiss my body. Exceptionally gentle this one seemed to be. And soon I find myself beginning to drift off. It is warm, and I can begin to pick out the din of talking, faint moans in the distance; the sounds of trebuchet firing… I am maybe two hundred, possibly even two hundred and fifty yards from the Citadel… Well behind the reinforcement lines…
Her hands are running along my body, and leaving some sort of cold paste in their wake. I look at it. It’s a translucent grey-green. Nothing quite compared to a Bubble Slime, this is definitely just a paste of some kind… and it feels as if it is sinking the cold into my bones… She wraps me tighter in the furs, hugged to me within them again, and is rocking me gently. She is taking such… care…
I nod back off again.
--
The feeling of something entrapping me wakes me with a start. I groan, but the pain is nowhere near as excruciating. I look to see… One of the peasants…? A Yeoman… An able warrior... He is looking at me, until he slides a hand under my shoulder, pulling me up. “Alexander, please, we need to…” I look at him, and then his garb. Oh Holy Ishtar… “They did something to me… I feel warm… They tossed me into here, with you…” It is tearing the garb off of its body. And I must admit… they have torn apart the slim boy who had fought at my back with a spear. This… thing, has firm ‘A’ cup breasts, slim hips, and perky nipples. Milky pale skin, scar and callous free…
I dig my hands into the fur, forcing myself up. My legs were tangled in the fur, but I kick it at the Alp, blinding it for a moment. “Not even high enough to resist, yoooooouu….” I am forced to extend the vowel, because a hand is on my shaft, stroking it. I try to pull away, but I feel something behind me now, forcing me in place. The Alp begins to crawl towards me, and I drive my eyes anywhere, so that I can focus on anything else.
I feel a warm wetness on the head of my shaft, and a tentative probing, but I block it out as best as I can, whispering to Ishtar for protection. My eyes scan over the fabric of this tent, simple burlap, no pennant that I can find. It seems to have been erected in the midst of six saplings, firm… I moan out, as the Alp begins to suck on the shaft, moving deeper. It… She... The man I fought beside is gone; this Alp is female, though she is a monster. I can feel the tip of her tongue running between the foreskin and the meeting of shaft and head, and her lips are puckered around it.
I tear my eyes away. This is blasphemous on multiple levels. I feel the warm pressure behind me shifting, and soon my head is surrounded on either side by soft, warm flesh… I see it is orange out of my peripherals, and I can feel lips on the top of my forehead. The same hobgoblin from before… She is humming to me for some strange reason. I feel something firm against the tip of my ‘lance’ and my eyes settle back on the Alp from the patch of ceiling I had been staring at, trying to will my mind elsewhere. She is just over a quarter of the way down my length, and her tongue is on the underside. The whore is so inexperienced she is going to choke on me…
Shaking my head at the irony, I look back up, only to moan as I suddenly feel her lips against the base of my shaft. I can feel her throat working around my length, and I bite my lip, realizing I am… beginning to despise this less than is proper… And soon she is sucking on the head of it again, her tongue running under it, and her hands moving to my stones, rubbing them, and running her fingertips along the underside of them… Soon, I can feel her doing both, and my teeth are beginning to sink into my lip, drawing blood, as she begins to make this feel rather good. Soon a finger is forcing its way in between my lips, and the hobgoblin as my arms pinned with one arm, and is forcing me to drink something with the other. I try to spit it out, but she forces my head back, and whatever this slimy substance is, it is spreading the warmth through my entire body.
I do not even notice my hips buck once the throbbing begins… or the Hobgoblin letting go.
I do become aware of my hips slamming into the Alp’s face, as I am now on top of her, one hand on the top of her head to get better leverage, and the other holding my weight mostly off of the whore. My mind is a haze… All I know is that I want to make her suffer. Make her get everything she wants, and choke on it. She is squealing with… Fear? Delight? And she’s sucking as hard as she can, as I begin to slam in and out of her mouth and throat. Finally, I reach my peak, and I note with satisfaction that my first shot filled her mouth from the edge of her lips, and then I continue my thrusting, making her gag and choke on my throbbing member as it spews out into her mouth. I can hear her sputtering, trying to swallow it, and I can see it beginning to bubble out of her nose.
It takes a minute and a half for me to finish, and I pull off of her, and feel the Hobgoblin’s hands on my length, running up and down it, before the last dribble falls out on the Alp’s nose. Her mouth is covered in thick grey slime, and she coughs more up, spreading to her cheeks. It is all down her breasts, soon the Hobgoblin is stroking me harder, and I groan, feeling myself get harder from her caresses, and soon, while the Alp is gasping to catch her breath, I am forced to give a second gasp, as more grey slime shoots from my length, and catches the Alp fully in the face, getting in her nose, on her forehead, and in her mouth. I finally feel the darkness coming for me, thankfully.
--
I awake, and though there is a stiff feeling in my joints, my head on something soft. A hand is stroking my hair, and a soft voice is whispering to me. “You…That was special…” My eyes partially open to see that same Alp. But now that I am staring at her, she is… womanly. Widened hips, large doughy breasts, though I will admit, not nearly big enough… wings now, which are still juvenile… “I… You were my idol. You were so pure, the Squire who led us, who protected us… Who saved me, I… I am so sorry… Look what I’ve become…” How? Could a Demon cry? Did not the High Harlot strip them of remorse? But those tears were genuine. Was this… My own corruption... But I did not FEEL different. I felt nothing but that same strength… This poor woman…
My body was acting before my mind could, shifting out of her lap, my head soon raising to her lips. I was pecking her lips, and I finally got a chance to really look at her. Her hair was as blonde as mine, though her eyes were a tinge of red from my blue, casting a soft purple to it. She mewled at my kiss, and shook. My mind was a haze, something in me protested, but I grabbed the Alp, this lowborn whore… This beautiful creature… And she caved immediately, laying back across the furs, and spreading those thick legs for me. The moment my lance entered her, she nearly screamed. Why did this feel so good… yet I feel so disgusted…
“Oh… Oh gods… Alexander… AH!” Her screams of my name matched the way her lips were forced open by the rock hard length that reflected it. She held on as tightly as a neophyte holds their sword, and it was mere seconds before I exploded into her, leaving myself exhausted again. She shifted, catching me as I collapsed against her, laying me partially over her body for a few moment before she exhibited the demonic strength of her breed, rolling me on my back, and draping herself to lay on me. All I could remember were those eyes, teary with… sorrow? pleasure?
The blackness did not come for me. I lay there, exhausted, before this… Once ally, kissed me back to some sense of energy. “Alexander… Come on… I need to get you to eat something. Even as advanced as you were before we took you… Your time unconscious with those Orcs, the Hobgoblin… And with me, you are badly malnourished…”
I groaned, recognizing the truth of her words. My stomach growled, and she helped me to my feet, the near half foot between us made apparent. Her hands strayed low, even as she helped me to a stone that I could see the obvious signs of earthen magic upon. Once I was in a sitting position, she was slowly crawling into my lap, the almost throne like boulder taking our weight easily. The water she poured, a pewter mug I had missed in my daze filled to the brim, was perhaps the sweetest I had ever tasted, never mind the dark colour. She whispered to me, soft words of affection. It was not long before I was feeling more… human, as it were.
“Do you want help dressing yourself? You’re barely able to stand.” I look at her, still half drained eyes regaining some steel to them as I close my fists.
“No. I can do it myself.” Standing, I feel my bones creaking, and look down. “Where is my jerkin? This is…”
“Our commander thought you would be better served by this. Your old raiment was discarded.” I picked up the chain mail, running it through my hands. I had never seen such beautifully woven metal, and the white gleam to it told me something was unearthly about it. “The Cyclops who made it, called it Titan’s metal, alloyed with Sten’s tongue.” I had no idea what those metals were, but it was light weight, and I placed it back on the ground with some reverence before donning new clothing, black cotton, very finely made… I admit, it is better than anything I had in the fortress, and I would venture I was dressed as well as Lady Glacius now. With that on, the blackened leather armour they left out slips on easily. The weight is familiar, almost identical to my old jerkin, and then I begin donning the chain. It slips on like water, and I watch with morbid fascination as it seems to melt into the leather. It has been magicked.
I look towards the ground, and under all of this, I see something that gives me some small sense of comfort. My sword... Reaching for Ascalon, the Alp watching passively, I belt it on. The weight of my sword at my side makes me feel a squire again. Feminine hands pull my hood forwards, supple leather and chain falling to cover my hair completely. “Thank you…”
“Alexandria. You knew me as Alex.” As if I could have remembered the name of a yeoman… The twinge of guilt is foreign to me. She was pouting at me, and running a hand along the chain armour. I imagine she wants to take it off and have me ravish her again. But she relents, her nails skimming along the links of the chains, and she stands on her tip toes, pecking my lips. I find myself leaning, and as my hand moves to cup her naked rear, I am bending with her, pulled into a kiss. She is moaning into my lips, my breath and her own mingling…
I eventually pull away, feeling her quivering through my armour. She grabs me by the hood, and pulls me back for another kiss, this one letting her slip her tongue into my mouth for a few moments, and I can taste a bitterness that almost make me wish to wretch, but I refrain. Some semblance of my control is back, but her lips are still soft, and her eyes are still filled with desperation. I eventually break off the kiss, and she smiles at me, dreamily. “Squire… You’re…” She sighs, and turns, slowly pulling on some sort of… harness for her… chest. My eyes begin to wander, sinfully, but even a prayer to Ishtar does not break my focus…I am moving forwards, and she almost giggles, and spins on me, the small strip of fabric barely hiding her nipples, the darker pink of her areolae still plainly visible. Dancing out of the way of my embrace, she makes a wagging motion with her fingers, and speaks a phrase in… Lodissian? She butchered the pronunciation, but it is effectively a remark about impatience… I find myself chuckling, and it is enough of a distraction that she is able to pull a loose wrap of a skirt around her legs. She purrs up at me, and runs her nails along the shoulder of my armour. “C’mon…” Her hand glides to pull my chain encased hand along with her, and soon we are in the midst of a city of tents. I can see the Yeomen, and the Orcs rutting as far as the eye can see. I spot the odd variation in monster, a lizard man or two, a gaggle of goblins, and a hobgoblin leading them… And…
I ignore it. I could likely kill one or two, but it would just lead to my being swarmed and torn apart. They are lost. I need to focus on… Escape… Yes. Escape… After I get something into my stomach…
The central pavilion is massive, a tent easily able to fit a hundred, and as I raise my hand, pulling aside a flap of the canvas, and holding it for the Alp who walks ahead of me with a shy grin, I am exposed to the smell of cooking venison. The scent of cooking fat, and the spices wafting in the air, that heady reek of saffron being laced in the wood via oil, and the meat… Ishtar preserve me, my hunger outstrips my arousal by the length of the Leviathan, easily. Her hand is around my wrist, and she is pulling me towards the far back of the tent. Tree logs have been broken up, and placed like seating, and she guides me to one near what I could guess is the head of the gathering. To my right is a blue haired woman that my quick survey of her apparel, and demeanour, as well as her rather ample assets, tells me is a Succubus. She is looking at me with an almost hungry stare, and the Alp is almost defensively clinging to me.
Past the bat winged temptress is something else I dread to see. Green skin, the armour that was clearly made to terrify… Horns… An Ogre... My hand unconsciously is gliding for Ascalon’s hilt, my heart beginning to triple beat in fear. Alexandria’s hands wrap around my wrist, and she slowly pulls it away. She is cooing to me, fingers gliding along the underside of my chin. The Ogre looks at me, and practically shoves the Succubus out of the way, and stands, looking down at my eyes, blue staring into red. “Alexandria. Is this the bitch’s pet?”
“Yes, Mistress Hilde. He’s… still nascent.” The Ogre’s eyes are still transfixed on mine. “He‘ll be completely converted in a few days.” Now my hand is gliding for my blade. Again, but this time, I am rising without knowing it. The Ogre is smiling at me, openly letting me see her hunger. “Alexander…?”
“Let him draw his sword Alexandria. He’s practically shaking now. I think he cares for the bitch.” My vision begins to bleed red. No one talked of Lady Glacius that way. I snarl, and the song of Ascalon being drawn drives Alexandria and the Succubus back. I hold my sword in a fencing stance, my entire weight shifting, to sink into the earth.
“My name is Alexander Brandt, son of Michael, son of Raziel. You will not disparage the name of my Lady Ozma with your filthy remarks, Ogre. Draw steel or apologize.” She smirks as her blade, a great Zweihander to any mere mortal, comes from the back of her black armour. I move, she counters, my sword is flying…
The armour is practically torn from me…
The blows hurt her armour landing in a heap, intermixed with mine. Her hips slam into mine, but I am urged by something in me to resist, make her regret this like Alexandria had… Each time I try to take control, she is pinning me again. My knowledge of brawling, learned with the Yeomen, of Pankration, learned by Commander Reikhart’s tutelage… I am drawing on both of them, and soon I have leverage, and I have her on her back, and I cannot help it. I am so… Thirsty, like my skin is on fire… I bite into her shoulder, drawing blood, just a little. The Alp, the Succubus… The three Orcs… They are backing away from my tussle with the Ogre. Her blood is flowing into my mouth, and I am lapping at the wound as I am struggling to keep her off balance…
Her hand lands in my hip, but I bite her again, the cheek this time, and she is so aroused by now that she is able to easily slip me inside, the pleasure and the pain by now intermixed. I am hammering into her kidney with my left fist, the right on her shoulder, and my body shifting erratically to keep her moving, keep her from finding her centre.
And then she has her legs around my waist, and is both squeezing on my hips, and is pulling me deeper in as I claw at her shoulder, feeling her knocking me off of my roots, and pulling me in, pummeling my midsection… I am biting her arm… “You said he was Nascent! You didn’t say he was already transformed!”
She grabs my shoulders, and slams me into the ground, and I find Alexandria, already naked, and moving to sit on my mouth, the smell of her provoking something primal in me. Her folds are over my mouth, and she purposely puts the sash that had been over her breasts over my eyes, blinding me… Ishtar’s mercy, in the form of blacking out again soon after is the only thing I could ask.
--
I awaken with a start to the reek of blood all around me. I am naked, amidst the corpses, and I am looking into her face, that beautiful, angelic face. She lifts me by my shoulder, like I weigh nothing more than a piece of cloth, and I finally can survey the carnage. Blood everywhere... It is flowing towards her and I, and flowing into her skin… My God what is going on! Alexandria, the Ogre, the Succubus, all of them, strewn about, broken, innards scattered across the pavilion. “I would not allow a single survivor, Alexander.” There is a lagoon of blood surrounding the both of us. And I can barely comprehend what has happened, except for this. Something killed all of them…
“Mi… Milady Ozma!? What… What…”
“Silence, you will understand in a moment.”
And then the searing pain. I can feel my throat being pierced by needles, and my essence passing out, but…
I feel pleasure as well.
And then I feel the blood flowing into me as well.
I am now a Knight.