Hour of the Gryphon - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Secret

I must have smelled like a cathouse. Even the horses snorted at me as I fled across to our tent. The camp was quiet. The long march and the brisk but brief party had tired out most of the men. Besides, we might have to march hard any day. Everyone wanted as much sleep as possible. I slipped back into my pallet without drawing any attention. I waited and waited.

Éremon finally came in to root for cached booze, then snuck out, leaving me alone in the dark. I wouldn't see him again until dawn. I stripped my pants off and stretched my legs out. The late hour and the deep night would allow me the privacy to relieve myself. I left my long shirt on and kept the blankets pulled up, just in case someone should blunder in.

Memory made me flush hot. I squirmed in place. I found myself picturing Éremon and Ionvar taking me at once, as they had taken the redheaded girl. What would it be like? The blush of shame this thought brought to my cheeks didn't still the trembling in my belly. I reached down and slid a finger between my folds, teased my slippery clit. It felt so good. I groaned softly, unable to stifle it. Just out of paranoia, I stayed on my side, kept the covers drawn up.

I pushed a finger into myself, then another. With wet fingertips, I circled my aching button, imagining a tongue there. Éremon's, a girl's, Ionvar's, it didn't matter. Better yet, a tongue there on my button, and a hard cock filling me below. I hungered for the one thing I could not allow myself. I used both hands to pleasure myself. My sex ached. Muscles clenched as I slid two fingers into myself. At the lustful prompting of my tortured body I pushed one, slippery with my juices, up my back passage. It felt dreadful and obscene, but I tingled all over with it. I gritted my teeth and growled with pleasure. Well could I believe that it had pleased the girl to take my master's cock there.

I buried my face in my pillow and ground my teeth, closed my eyes tight. Oblivious to almost everything, I didn't hear the rustling next to me. I was climbing that long slope toward orgasm when I felt a warm body behind me. A hand took my shoulder. Another reached around my belly for my groin. Éremon's breath rushed warmly in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. I stiffened and tried to shoulder him away.

"The Hell do you think you're doing?" I snapped. Quick as I could, I rolled so that my breasts were pressed into my pillow and my thighs were tight together. My hand still lay trapped beneath me. Pleasure ached within me. My heart pounded.

"You were watching us," he said, close beside me. "Why didn't you join in?" I could smell wine on him. He was just drunk enough to make him brave. Maybe a little mean.

"Why didn't you ask me?" I shot back, trying to elbow him off.

"I thought you didn't like girls," he said, drawing close again. I physically restrained myself from hitting him. Instead I pushed him away one-handed, but he pulled me up with him, leaned in. "I can't stand it anymore. You're too pretty. Those eyes, that perfect skin, those lips of yours."

He kissed me abruptly, as if charging into some foolish combat. I stiffened, gasped in spite of myself. I struggled momentarily, then held perfectly still as his tongue explored my mouth. My heart pounded like a hare's. I hadn't had that much experience kissing, but he was very persuasive. Unable to help myself, I kissed him back a little. When I could no longer breathe, I broke it off.

"No," I said, in my firmest tone. Éremon pressed against me and I could feel his erection digging into my hip. My spine tingled and I blushed, tried to push him away again and almost succeeded. "Enough," I growled. "What are you doing? Stop it. You already had a girl tonight. Éremon! Fuck off."

"You haven't," he murmured, moving his lips down to the sides of my neck under the loose collar of my shirt. He was tasting me. "I know you want to," he said. "Your heart's pounding." His hair tickled my skin as he kissed my shoulders. Fingers stroked my back. I shrugged his hands away before he could discover too much.

"What the Hell do you want from me?" I said, trying to sound annoyed.

He leaned close. "I served with a friend of yours last summer. Your cousin, I think. He talked about you. 'Akanaz likes boys,' he said." Shock rendered me momentarily speechless.

"No," I said, affronted, both for myself and for my friend. "I'm - I'm not - not -" I blushed again, stomach sinking. If he wanted a boy, a boy I had better be. And unless I wanted trouble with the General, I had to be the boy he thought I was. "Dammit, Éremon. What do you want?"

"Make me happy and I won't tell Ionvar that you're a queer."

"I'm not queer," I snapped. I was trembling with fright. "He wouldn't care anyway. I don't make trouble."

His hands tightened on me. He was trembling, too. "Yeah? Then maybe I'll just foul something up and blame it on the new boy. He'll lash you, and I'll watch." Suddenly, I was very afraid. I didn't doubt that Ionvar would believe the perfect golden-boy squire over me any day. I thought long and hard. If Éremon trumped up something to get me flogged, my secret would out itself in no time.

I went limp under him, pretending defeat. "What'll it take to keep you quiet?"

He kissed me, sucked on my lower lip. "This," he said, taking my hand and pressing it to the front of his pants. His cock was strainingly hard. Even through the thick fabric, I felt its warmth. My breath hitched. "Take it out," he said into my mouth. "I want to feel your tongue."

I pushed him over so that he leaned against the tent pole. Yes, he was beautiful in the lamplight. And drunk. And a bit guilty. I saw that in his eyes. But he trembled when I touched him. I'd been driving him mad and hadn't even known it. Once he came, he'd be embarrassed. He'd slink off and pretend nothing had happened. And I was a little eager, wasn't I? Flattered, perhaps, by his desire, and eager to explore? I gave him a disgusted sneer - disgust with myself as much as with him - and reached for his belt.

"Fine. See how you like it."

I pulled his cock out. It was hard, the skin soft and smooth, and very warm. I circled it with my fingers and squeezed. The skin glided easily over the hard flesh. It felt obscene. I stroked it, watching his face. It was easy to tell what felt good. I pressed my thumb to the underside and milked it all the way up. Clear, sticky fluid spilled from the end, and I smeared it over the head of his cock.

"God," he growled through clenched teeth. "Suck it, please." He trembled. With a glare at him, I slipped down and licked the end. He groaned when I set my tongue to his hot flesh. The taste was agreeable - just clean skin. He'd washed, after taking his leave of the girl. I tasted his fluids leaking from him, almost sweet. I tried to remember how the girl had managed earlier, and began licking all over it, sucking at the bottom and sides. The skin was so soft. He arched, rubbed the head over my tongue and pushed past my lips.

I flushed in shame, excited in spite of myself, leaned forward, tried to take in as much as I could. While he was in this position, he couldn't get at my other end. He leaned against the sturdily-planted tent pole behind him. One of his hands tangled in my hair. It was more difficult than I'd thought, but I worked a little more than half of it down.

"Use your fingers at the bottom," he said, when it was apparent I could manage no more. "Jerk it."

I flashed my green stare at him again and reached up to squeeze around the base. It throbbed in my mouth. I squeezed and stroked it as I moved my lips up and down. When I pulled back and licked the end, his breath hitched. It became a game as I tried to get as much of a reaction out of him as I could. I paused to run my tongue all over the end, exploring. Shame panted down the nape of my neck but I cornered it in my mind. No matter what or who he thought I was, I knew the truth. That put me one up on him.

I sucked him slowly, pulled at his shaft with my fingers. Eventually, I managed more of his length than I thought I could. I stroked my mouth down on it smoothly, pressing hard with my tongue. Whenever my mouth tired, I sucked on the end and wrung at him with my fist. Watching him try to control himself made me tingle. His excitement was apparent. His breathing was coarse, his eyes either closed or half-focused in pleasure. He took his fist out of my hair and stroked my cheek. I felt his belly and his smoothly muscled sides, the firm plane of his chest. Gods, he was a fine specimen. His shape pleased me. I wanted very badly to play with myself but knew I could never get away with it. This was very likely all he wanted from me. It was common enough between squires. I would be free to do whatever I liked after he finished. But I couldn't deny that it got me hot under the skin.

Éremon finally groaned and thumped his head against the pole. "Dammit," he gasped. "You're going to make me come."

"Really?" I asked, squeezing his pole and pretending mock innocence. "Don't you want to?"

"Yes," he groaned, frustrated. "But damn it all, I want to fuck you first."

"I don't think so," I said, leaning up to kiss him with a firm hand still around his shaft. I meant to tease him to the brink and drain him dry. If I drew it out long enough, the alcohol would catch up with him and he wouldn't be able to manage again. His lips met mine for a moment then he growled, leaned over and caught my arm. I tried to pull away. Just as frustrated and excited as me, he pushed me over onto my stomach and rolled atop me. I cursed all the times we had wrestled together. He had learned well.

"If I'm going to regret this in the morning, I might as well quit fucking around," he said, reaching for my waist. Now I genuinely feared that he'd discover my secret. I thrashed and tried to pull away. I squirmed from beneath him, reached out and caught the tent pole, pulled myself halfway up. He tried to pull me back and I kicked at him. I am ashamed to admit that I had to make myself do it. He growled, amused, took one of my ankles.

"Come on," he said. "I know you want to, stop squirming." The Hell of it is, I did want to, and I know he knew it. I pulled up and he caught my waist, held me half up and half down. He reached around, feeling my thighs. Instinctively, I flattened myself to the floor, but this only exposed my backside. I gave a very manly snarl of anger, tried to twist away. Éremon climbed up and put one knee over the backs of mine. He held me there, grabbed one arm and twisted it behind my back. I yelped in pain.

Fear and more than a little excitement rilled through my blood. He was simply stronger than me. I couldn't stop him. If I really had been a man, I would have been stronger, and able to. The fact that I didn't stop him no doubt made him think I didn't want to.

He dragged over the bag with our sword kits in it and pulled out the bottle of oil we used to shine our weapons. I couldn't turn to see what he was doing but I soon felt him push a finger up my back passage. I writhed, snarled, tried to pry him off me with my one free hand. The tent pole bruised my shoulder and I only got a handful of hair. I tried to pull him close enough to bite. He leaned over my shoulder and kissed me. I bit his lip and tasted blood. He twisted his finger inside me. It felt good and I hissed in frustration. He worked it in and out and when I showed no signs of discomfort, he added another, slippery with oil. I gasped at the almost-painful sensations. My aching pussy throbbed, deprived of attention.

I licked at his bloody lip. Finally I sought his tongue with my own. The end of his hard cock brushed my flank as he rubbed against me. I couldn't help quivering in frustration then.

"Do you like that?" he asked, pushing his fingers farther up inside me. It took every fiber of willpower in my being not to beg him to finger my pussy instead.

"Fuck you," I spat, though he must have felt me shaking. He twisted his fingers again and I groaned, thumped my head against the tent pole. I wished desperately to be somewhere else, anywhere else, rather than suffer what I knew he was going to do to me. He laughed, low and mean, and kissed me again.

"No," he said when he pulled away. "I'm going to fuck you. And you're going to like it."

I twisted beneath him in rage. He licked the side of my neck above my collar as he worked his fingers in me. I moaned, low and helplessly, and slid down the pole a little, put my free arm around it. He let go of my arm and merely leaned on my shoulder. I didn't move. He took his fingers from me, removed the hand on my shoulder. For a moment I could have risen unrestrained. I hesitated for an instant. My limbs were so weak. Perhaps I lingered longer than I should've. I half-hoped and half-feared that he would discover my secret.

But Éremon wasn't wasting any more time exploring. His weight on the backs of my calves shifted, he pinned my knees together between his own, grabbed my shoulder again, holding me down. I turned to look at him as I felt his cock nudge at me. His face was set, determined. He pressed the head into me, and I cried out, heart staggering in my chest. Before I could draw a breath to scream, half the rest of his cock followed it, slick with oil. It hurt and I twisted beneath him until he reached around and put a hand on my neck, leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"Shh. Shh. It'll pass." Then he pushed all the way inside, pressing his warm hips against me. I felt every inch of that thing crammed into me, every ridge and vein. It was such a peculiar feeling, having part of someone inside me. For a moment I could only lie there and pant, shocked as a deer. "Oh," he sighed, his cheek brushing mine. "Oh, you're tight." He kissed me, licked my lips, sucked my tongue. I whimpered. In one smooth motion he pulled most of his shaft out of me and sank it back in. I had no time to push him away. I could barely gasp a breath. When he did it again, I moaned.

"Oh, gods," I said. "Fuck, that's big." He leaned back and thumped into me again. I felt like I was going to explode.

"Does it feel good?" he asked. I snarled and gave him a dirty look over my shoulder. Another three strokes and I couldn't manage even that much. I fell to my elbows, then my chest, backside raised in the air like a common trull. I was sweating, cold. My hands felt numb. An awful throbbing began between my thighs. My body traitorously welcomed each invasion with a stab of liquid fire. Still, without being able to reach down and pleasure myself I could not reach completion. I tried, oh, I tried. What else could I do? Again and again he skewered my backside with his rigid tool. I trembled and gasped beneath him. Chill sweat drenched me. I whimpered helplessly. Éremon stepped up his pace and I squirmed in frustration. He was so close to the very seat of my womanhood, but not filling me. No matter how I tried, I could not reach my climax. "Jerk off," he said, the tone not a request. I whimpered for mercy. "Do it," he snapped, smacking into me.

I yelped. Still, I had the presence of mind to reach out and soak my hand with oil as a man would have. A groan escaped me as I ran my fingers down, rubbed at my naked folds. Wetness drenched my fingers immediately. I moaned when I found my clit, rubbed at it desperately. Pleasure wracked me. I had never been so utterly at the mercy of sensation. Even pain would've left me more in control of myself. I pushed back at Éremon, savoring the feel of his rock-hard shaft plundering my depths. He leaned over, a fist to each side of me. His weight bore me down.

I felt his whole body knot like a length of rope. Even his arm beside me rippled. He gasped, held perfectly still, regaining control only slowly. I don't blame him for savoring it. He'd want to get all he could get before kicking himself in the morning. All the same I squirmed in frustration. He could not possibly have missed it. I was loving it, unmistakably.

Éremon swore, leaned over and slammed into me relentlessly as I clamped down on him. He panted hot on the back of my neck as he delivered each stroke with all his strength. His smooth, hard body rubbed against my back, tense with lust. His sweat dripped over me, trickled down my spine. The lightning built within me, doubling me over. I twisted like a snake as I tried to build up enough momentum to finish. The windup seemed to go on and on forever. My pussy squeezed down on nothing. The feel of his cock in my ass was driving me mad. I literally could not take a breath. "Are you going to come?" he growled.

"God, I think so!" I sobbed.

"I want to feel it," he said, reached around, hand seeking something that wasn't there. I felt his surprised stiffening as his fingers slid down my belly, over my hand, kept sliding. "Holy fuck," he whispered, pushing my hand out of the way, feeling my wetness as I gasped in combined ecstasy and horror.

He hauled himself out of me and I swore explosively, but he was far too interested in what he had discovered to care that I hadn't come yet. He flipped me on my back. As I lay there, stunned and helpless, he pulled my shirt off roughly. The muslin strips binding my breasts down yielded swiftly to his strong fingers. After a moment of surprised staring he ran his fingers over them, almost awed. "By the gods," he breathed. His blue eyes glimmered.

"You can't tell anyone," I said, panting, desperate. "Promise you won't tell."

"Never," he said. "Not in a million years." I knew what he was thinking. This was too good a secret to blow. He eased up and I felt his shaft press against my slippery slit. I gasped. Insistent, I held him away from me. His length and hardness pressed against my furrow.

"You can't," I said.

"Why not?" he asked, pushing forward. The head parted my folds. I dug my fingers into his belly.

"I'm a virgin," I said, showing him my teeth. "I have to save myself for my husband."

"This?" he said, pushing a finger into me again. "This naughty little secret? I bet Ionvar would love this."

"My fiance could be someone important. You don't know who I really am."

"Does Ionvar?"

"Maybe." I leaned up, sucked on his lip, grabbed his cock and pushed it down. I couldn't let him think he was entitled to my pussy just because he knew it was there. I wouldn't have any of that crap. "Come on," I purred, fitting the head of his thick tool against my back passage. "Push it in."

He groaned and sheathed himself to the base in my ass. While he pounded me, I writhed, pushed two fingers into my pussy, worked them in and out. I felt his shaft plundering me through the walls of my passage. Pleasure bent me into an arc, twisted me. He pushed my hand up and fingered me himself. His angle was better. When he stroked his fingers against my inner flesh I groaned and came, spasming hard.

I wailed until I had no more breath. Every time he plunged into me it sent off another rippling contraction. I finally fell back, gasping for breath. His breath came hard, too. Finally he pulled out of me and gestured me around. I pushed myself to knees and elbows and moved around to put his cock in my mouth, not caring where it had been, what he had done to me, not caring about anything but the taste of him. My hands snuck under his shirt and smoothed over his belly and chest. I sucked at him eagerly. He put a fist in my hair.

"I'm going to come," he groaned. Uncertain, I tried to pull away, but he pulled me back onto it. I had to keep sucking. He was shaking and had to lean against the tent pole for support. I repeatedly pushed down as far as I could. His cock pulsed and twitched, and he groaned loudly. Hot fluid squirted into my mouth, surprising me. I had not thought it would be so warm. I quickly squeezed his shaft, jerking the rest onto my tongue until his cock stopped twitching and he sighed. He slouched to the ground and I swallowed, breathing hard, contemplating the taste of him on my tongue.

We lay there for a few moments. I was sure he had dozed off, and was about to slip away from him. A noise outside interrupted me, followed by the rude entry of three young knights who stumbled into the tent.

"Son of a bitch! Éremon!" one of them exclaimed when he saw me there. Then, when he got a better look at me: "Son of a motherfucking bitch!"

"Umm," Éremon said, as surprised as I was. "Hey guys. What's going on?" I turned red to the nipples and had the sudden urge to crawl under a rock. They blinked at me, peering back and forth like young wolves sizing up their first live kill. I'd seen Éremon with this batch before; a rowdy crew, and tonight they were half-drunk.

"Son of a bitch," the first said again. He had a fresh cut across his jaw from the fight that day and a fevered gleam in his hazel eyes. "Where did you find that?"

"Yeah," the next said. "You should share."

My fellow squire and I looked at one another in near-panic. He didn't know what to do any more than I. The three bravos shouldered closer, feral hunger in their eyes. I cringed back. There was no place to hide.

Continued in Hour of the Gryphon (see link in Author bio)

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