Hour of the Gryphon - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Squire

Éremon was a perfect squire and a sickening role model. He was also a good friend, though I was likelier to find myself in a stranglehold than a hug. I got used to roughhousing fast, because Ionvar set him to sparring with me every spare minute.

Hardest was remaining properly dressed. Spring was late and the weather was still cold, so I had an excuse to wear an extra shirt most of the time. Luckily, there was a lot of work to keep my hands full and my clothes on until the other lads were finished bathing.

I'd been with Ionvar for three weeks when we first joined battle, a strike against the enemy's flank. Éremon's horse went down before ten minutes had passed. He vanished into the fray, dead or wounded. It was the worst moment of my life. But the General was there on his warhorse, and he thundered on like the first black edge of a storm. I stayed at his side, screaming my rage. The ebb and flow of battle separated us, and as I fought back to him, resistance overwhelmed us. I lost all thought of anything but survival. My own horse fell screaming, but the enemy cavalry swirled off to strike somewhere else, leaving footmen to hold the position.

The tide of battle had left me momentarily beached on a field of dead, and I frantically looked around, searching for command. I didn't see Ionvar. Was he dead?

Someone took me by the shoulder and I almost took off his head before I recognized Éremon. I shouted with joy and embraced him bloodily, our armor clanking. In that moment, I knew the love that brothers in battle feel. "I thought you'd been made a knight!" I called, laughing. He only shook his head.

"No posthumous promotions for me! Just some bruises!"

"We have to find the General!" I hollered, barely intelligible above the din.

And it wasn't hard. Our cavalry came charging back in, sweeping the mercenary footmen away like ants off a board. Ionvar's black charger ramped and plunged above the enemy as he waved his black sword in bloody arcs. Blood tattooed his face. He roared, and they fled, and I knew then that we'd won. I had been frightened and confused, and we'd made it anyway. The tiny part of the battle trusted to me, I had handled.

After the fight, when Ionvar put his hand on my shoulder and nodded once, I felt prouder than I'd ever felt before; prouder than if he'd given a whole speech about my (mostly nonexistent) bravery. And, oh, I was proud to serve so frightful a master.

Only afterward did it occur to me that, should I be wounded badly enough, my secret would become public knowledge quite quickly. This whole idea had been stupid, I realized, but I couldn't go back now. There was nothing for it except to not get hit.

The fear didn't damp my spirits. That night, after my first battle, I felt like I could do anything. We all did. Spirits were high in the camp. The season was just beginning, and early victories make men wild.

That night the camp was full of parties. Girls and booze got passed around. Everyone was smiling. Never one for celebrations, Ionvar tended to business in his tent, writing dispatches. Messengers came and went like pigeons at a noblewoman's windowsill. I asked for the night off and Ionvar granted it with a wave of an ink-smeared hand. I left Éremon polishing Ionvar's armor and felt a momentary flash of guilt - I should be back there helping him. But I needed a few minutes to just... unwind.

I skimmed the revels, taking in a few jokes, some food, some wine, dodging the more serious offers of companionship or a friendly fire. I wound up outside camp, alone. It must have looked like I was brooding. I wasn't the only one with a bad case of green soldier's conscience. Nobody bothered me. Fine by me. I sat and drank and looked up at the endless sky, and felt pride unfurling through me like banners. This was the glory of my House. I'd been born to it. Made for war.

I drank to myself, and to my fellow squire, and to my General. And I drank to the bloody war.

A sentry rooted me up before I could get really drunk, though, with a ragged-looking message for my master. It bore the seal of a commander further along the front. Important news. Back through camp I trudged.

A small cask of wine cooled outside Ionvar's doorflap. The men outside stopped their chatting long enough to greet me and wave me inside. I expected to find Ionvar inside, but it was empty. Scattered articles of clothing littered the floor. I paused before I'd gone three steps. From the back of the tent I heard a low moan of pleasure, then Éremon's voice. "Oh, fuck me."

I blanched, then flushed as crimson as a red-hot iron. Do I need to tell you what image this conjured in my scandalized brain? A moment later I heard a very feminine gasp, followed by a woman unfurling a stream of profanity that nearly singed the hair off my head.

I hesitated, hand reaching for the partitioning curtain. What else could I do? The message waited, I had to see if Ionvar was in there. I pulled the curtain back softly, poked my head inside with the words "My Lord" on my lips. I bit them off, though, when I saw what was going on.

Sprawled on the floor face-down was a redheaded girl, as naked as the moon. Éremon, similarly nude, had hold of her at the hips and slammed repeatedly against her backside. My good master was before her, a handful of her coppery hair in his fist and his thick cock in her mouth.

As embarrassing as it is to admit, I'd never seen a naked man before, not one in arousal, so naturally I stared. My fellow squire's smooth hips thumped into the girl's silky bottom. One hand was buried between her thighs as the other dug for a better grip in the rough blankets. Her breasts swayed and brushed against the carpeting, pink nipples stiff as little jewels.

Éremon was really leaning into it, so he didn't notice me. The General was facing a little away from me, eyes closed. I had totally forgotten the letter. Ionvar hauled up on the girl's mane like a horse's reins and Éremon kept hold of her waist, moving her back and forth between them. I stared.

She was obviously enjoying it, flushed across her cheeks, lips a vivid shade of scarlet. Ionvar pulled away from her, gave her a command, and she moaned, rolled on her back. She put one leg up in the air and Ionvar moved around to nudge Éremon out of the way. The girl spread her folds apart with her pale fingers and rubbed herself. Ionvar leaned forward, pressed the swollen head of his cock against her candy-pink slit. I watched the whole length disappear into her as she arched and writhed in pleasure. He took his time fucking her, watched Éremon put his cock back in her mouth. She played with herself eagerly. I could see every rigid inch of Ionvar's cock plundering her, see her narrow pink slit squeezing at him. The angle spared me not one detail. How could she fit all that in there? It amazed me.

The girl's breasts bounced in time to Ionvar's thrusting. Her slender calves wrapped around him. She kept reaching up to paw at Éremon, fondling him. He was as pretty as she was, and Ionvar was impressive enough for three men. I couldn't decide which I wanted to look at more. Éremon and the girl were a pair, with their smooth skin and soft hair. As for my master, he was a sight unto himself, body crisscrossed with the welts of scars old and new. His braids played over the streaks of blood still on his neck. I felt an aching warmth between my thighs and caught myself wriggling. I couldn't tear my eyes away. Really, what was I supposed to do? It was a Hell of a show.

The girl even seemed to enjoy it when Éremon pushed deeper into her mouth, wracked with pleasure. She pushed up on her elbows to take him in, and soon Eremon arched like a drawn bow and groaned. I heard her swallowing, and when he pulled away, a thread of sticky white fluid fell across her cheek. Eremon sprawled on the rug, grinning. She licked her lips, fell back on the carpet beside him, and moaned.

Ionvar thrust his hands into her fire-bright hair. He was breathing hard, growling, and the girl whimpered continuously. Soon she shuddered and arched, stiffening, and wailed. "Oh, gods!" she gasped. "You beast! Harder!" He obliged, war-braids clicking against one another in his hair. She slumped back, gasping for breath, and he snarled an oath.

The girl pulled away, nimble as a mink. Before he could wrestle her back into position, she turned on all fours again, presented him with her backside. With a sly look at my master, she pushed a finger up her back passage. I goggled, shocked. Daddy had taught me that rear sex was perfectly natural, but that wasn't within the bounds of "necessary for the propagation of the House." I'd never seen anything so shameless. Judging from her groans and gasps of delight, it must've felt good. I doubted she was faking – Ionvar wasn't the sort to care much either way.

Ionvar crept up behind her as she bent to take Éremon's slippery tool between her lips again. He stroked her backside where her smooth-skinned flanks shaded into the graceful lines of her thighs. Her pink slit was clearly visible between them, fuzzy as a peach and slippery with nectar. It surprised me when he leaned over and put his tongue between her silky folds. She squirmed as he tasted her, and I just gaped. He licked her, his cock sticking out hard and twitching under him, like a stallion's. He stroked it now and then, and I felt my pussy throb.

After he'd drunk his fill of her, he trailed his tongue up and pressed it against her nether opening. He reached up to finger the slippery depths of her pussy. I felt a naughty thrill at watching him. I was envious again, this time of her.

The girl wriggled and uttered an impatient, lustful cry. He pulled away and pushed a finger up her ass. She moaned, dove on Éremon's pole with obvious enjoyment as Ionvar worked his fingers in her to the very bottom, teasing her front and back. Her fingers were fixed on her clit, stroking it frantically.

My pussy throbbed. I fervently wished that I could tear myself away long enough to pleasure myself. Moments later the girl shuddered in orgasm. Ionvar pushed both fingers up her ass, worked them in and out while she pushed back against him. She didn't ever take her mouth off Éremon's cock.

"Do you want me to take you here?" Ionvar asked, cozying up to her backside, his cock brushing her flank. I blushed for her, but she wasn't ashamed at all. One silky hand stole back and squeezed Ionvar's iron-hard pole. She smirked.

"As My Lord wishes," she purred.

"Climb up," Ionvar said, "and sit on his cock." She shuddered, then did as he told her. I watched her settle a thigh on either side of Éremon's and lower herself onto his shaft. The head sank into her pink slit and she pushed down on it with a groan. Ionvar moved around and put his cock in her mouth, made her drool on it while she bounced. She pinched and teased her own nipples. Eventually Ionvar turned loose of her and she flopped down on Éremon, panting.

Ionvar went behind her and pressed his cock against her puckered pink opening. She gasped. I watched, incredulous, as she backed up. The muscle parted slowly, engulfing the end of Ionvar's shaft. Hectic color rose in her cheeks as he slid the length of it into her ass. I couldn't tell from her gasping whether she felt pain or pleasure or some unholy mixture of both. Soon she urged him to do it harder. Éremon could do little more than lie beneath her as she writhed, but the look on his face was positively beatific.

I hoped fervently that he would sleep deep and long that night so that I could pleasure myself in the dark. If worst came to worst, I could always ask him to step out. As a man, he'd understand.

The girl ground against Éremon, her breasts pressing against his naked chest. I could see her shuddering. One of her little hands crept between her belly and his, and she gasped as she began to rub herself. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Ionvar pulled her hair and stroked her shoulders, her throat, her bouncing breasts. Sweat rolled down her sides, gooseflesh rippled on her arms and thighs. Soon she wailed, head thrown back and lips parted in lust. Ionvar grunted and ground his teeth, held steady as she spasmed and bucked. Finally, she collapsed onto Éremon, gasping.

Ionvar pulled out of her, moved aside. "Put her on her back," he said to Éremon. "Fuck her in the ass." My fellow squire didn't waste a moment. He lay the girl down and held her legs up, framing her pink lower lips between her thighs. I watched his thick shaft disappear into her nether passage. His full length clove her, forcing wetness out of her pussy in a trickle. He spread her legs and her little cleft stretched wide. The outer lips were now ripe rose-pink from the fucking she'd gotten. Without shame, she reached down and plunged two fingers into her depths. As Éremon slid in and out of her most shameful place, she pleasured herself. She came again.

I could have watched them like this all night, but when Éremon started shuddering and sweating like a dray horse pulling uphill, the Gryphon Prince gestured at her. "Suck him off," he said. "I want to watch him come in your mouth."

The girl whimpered and pulled away. Obediently, she turned and took Éremon's pole between her pouting lips. She sucked on it, jerked at the base. I could not believe what I was seeing. Ionvar slid back up her ass and pounded into her hard. Éremon spurted into her mouth. She only missed a little, which ran down her chin. She squeezed the last from him, sucked the end clean, and fell forward on the blankets as Ionvar smacked into her at a full gallop. As he neared the home stretch, he growled like a wolf.

"Jerk it," she hissed, pushing him away. "I know how you love to look. Go on. Cum on my ass." I couldn't believe what I'd heard her say. Ionvar pulled out of the girl and rubbed his pole up and down between her slippery cheeks. Her juices still covered his length. She reached back to help wring at his shaft, wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed. My master growled, arched forward. Jets of sticky white cum squirted onto the girl's backside and upper thighs. Ionvar shuddered, sighed, then ran his fingers over her sticky rump, smearing the mess around. She turned and licked his fingers clean, and he stroked her hair gently.

Éremon lay back on the floor with a groan. The girl cleaned herself using a cloth, all but purring with satisfaction. Ionvar sat on a cushion nearby and had a drink of wine. I was so afraid that they would see that I dared not move away. After about thirty seconds Ionvar waved a hand at his squire.

"Up, you," he said. "Éremon, you and Akanaz are off until morning. Don't let me catch you hanging around."

Éremon pulled on his pants and shirt, took his boots in one hand and saluted with the other. "Good night, Sir," I heard him say, but I was already beating a hasty retreat.

Continued in Part 4

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