When Knighthood was in Flower and Maidens lost their Heads - Part 2

Part 2

Thank heaven for the laws of hospitality! Unpon reaching this country lord's castle, I should get three days of rest, some clean, dry underwear, reasonably good food, and best of all, the opportunity to ignore my new slave (which in view of her pulchritude and attitude was not easy). It is presumed that a knight has better things to do around a castle than attend to his slave. Melisande could safely be assigned to some chore for the time I was here, and I could get some rest.

Like most country castles, Sir Montmorency's place has all the charm of a poorly built stone barn. One shares the courtyard with chickens and sheep, and does well to place one's feet carefully. The rooms are small and drafty and meagerly furnished. The great canopied feather beds of the capitol are non-existent. The best a knight could expect was a reasonably clean pallet of fresh rushes.

Supper was more likely to be roasted mutton than pheasant, and the excellent wines of the King's table would be poorly imitated by a local beer. The delightful conversation of lovely and flirtacious women would be replaced by the hairy-armpits manly discussions of weather, harvests and hunting, these being the principal occupations of country gentlemen.

No one at Sir Montmorency's (or Monty, as he wished me to address him) would dream of offending hospitality by challenging me for the ownership of Melisande, and thus I would not need to celebrate with her on the occasions of my victories.

Melisande was dressed now in a warm and concealing, if plain, wool garment kindly donated by the lady of the castle in honor of my visit. In spite of her peasant background, my slave was being much lionized by the local ladies, who have never before had the opportunity to socialize with a knight's slave. She has told the story of her salvation and enslavement many times, embellishing rather extensively on the whole affair.

The battle with the dragon was a rather trivial affair as I remember it, but I have now heard it described as a violent and mortal combat, involving a foe so powerful and fierce as to make armies quail before him. Melisande, in this version, was the special choice of the dragon, who had demanded her innocent flesh lest he raze the whole village. Give me a break! Still, it would hardly do to allow knightly modesty to interfere in the enjoyment of a good fable in the making.

I can only hope the revised tale does not anger the dragon guild. It would be irritating to be forced to display my prowess against a succession of their champions. Fortunately, they are as prone as humans to exaggerate their triumphs, and offer excuses for their failures. I doubt not that the young one has explained his wound as the result of a courageous struggle against a cohort of knightly antagonists. It is entirely possible that neither side will recognize the battle from the other side's stories.

Melisande is, I fear, a typical village girl, quite unable to keep her mouth shut. She has expounded at some length about the "curse," showing off on request her well-bruised rump, and eliciting considerable envy from the local ladies for her opportunity to serve so puissant and tragic a master. She has described her thrashings and their aftermaths in lascivious detail, and again, from her stories, I hardly recognize the events.

For example, It is not precisely my memory that I awoke the first night so prodigiously engorged with passion for her that nothing would soothe me save only that I spank her soundly and let her drain my tensions into her willing body. (The forest witch, you will note, is no longer a factor) It is a trifle embarrassing to have one's sexual activities the subject of dinner table conversation, but hardly surprising under the circumstances.

It distressed me though when she repeated these stories to Sir Montmorency, with much boasting of my prowess with strap and lance. These country knights are all too prone to take such tales at face value, and to make suggestions based on this sort of falsehood that are well nigh impossible to live up to.

As I was preparing to leave his table, comfortably full of plain but tasty food, he motioned me to him. Bother! If he came up with some grotesque labor to prove my knightly fortitude, Melisande was going to have much to answer for.

As it happened, he had decided that he wanted a generation of me.

I think I would have preferred another dragon.

It is, of course, one of the highest honors one can bestow on a knight, to invite him to leave behind a generation of his offspring. In practice, however, this meant that I was obliged to cover as many of his women as I could before I left his castle, beginning with his wife and daughters, and continuing in strict order of precedence for the remainder of my three days of hospitality.

Now ordinarily, knights love things like that. The opportunity to have a dozen or more women, each eager to please and to carry away a knight's seed, could be quite entertaining. But dammit, I was on quest! A castle was supposed to mean respite and relaxation, not the constant demands of a phalanx of women. I needed R&R, not T&A!

There was one chance to get out of this. I reminded Monty of the curse, explaining that I should have to thrash his wife and daughters soundly before I could perform this honorable duty with them. A sly smile twisted his mouth, and he assured me that his wife's rump had been too long without a good set of bruises. And as for his daughters, he suspected that they would be more than willing to accept a good thrashing as the price of such an opportunity.

Well, so much for that. Nothing for it now but to wade into the melee. There was, however, one little thing to do first. Melisande had got me into this with her big mouth. I wasn't about to see her get out of this visit all rested and happy while I exhausted myself in the service of this border lord.

I begged a boon of Monty, which he happily granted. I did not, I said, wish my newly won slave to consider herself set aside so quickly. While I discharged my duty to the women of the castle, would the men be so kind as to attend to her? I told him that I must reserve her traditional entry for myself, but his men were to make free with her mouth and backside as pleased them.

Moreover, as the men would be acting as my surrogates in the matter, it would be necessary for them to pay at least lip service to my curse. I suggested a good spanking of at least fifty swats delivered onto a bared bottom be considered a minimum, although I would, of course, be honored if any man chose to be more severe.

As my slave had already told them, I allowed that I seldom let her pass unused for more than three or four hours, and urged that this schedule be maintained while I was otherwise occupied. (She wasn't the only one here who could exaggerate for effect. By our next stop, mayhap she will be less inclined to embellish her story.)

This agreed upon, I began to make my rounds.

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The ladies were still at table, probably having been told of my appointed task. I went first to Monty's wife. She fairly beamed at my approach and bade me sit. A plump, but not ill-favored woman, Morgana could hardly hide her eagerness to submit to me.

I inquired whether she would be free immediately after vespers? Receiving her enthusiastic agreement, I sadly required that she have a stout strap available for vigorous use on her buttocks, as the curse I bore would prevent me from doing my duty otherwise. She bit her lip a bit at that, but accepted my tragic status without complaint. I was finding it a bit exasperating that the curse seemed to have so little deterrent effect.

The eldest daughter, a blonde minx abundant in breast and fundament like her mother, made so bold as to inform me that she had a most excellent riding crop which she would take to her bed with her, and hold against my coming, close to mid night. The younger daughter seemed a trifle dubious of offering her more slender buttocks to my chastisement, but the prospect of bedding a knight of the realm quite overcame her reservations. She readily agreed to pick and trim a half-dozen good switches for her own thrashing near dawn.

And so it went. The Seneschal's wife was past child-bearing age, but her younger sister would submit to my belt and lance sometime before the noon meal on the following day. The knight-elder presented me with his daughter and his short braided whip for a mid afternoon rendezvous.

After vespers again would be an appointment with the young wife of a newly knighted gentleman who fairly beamed at the prospect of my thrashing his wife with a birch. He gleefully promised to prepare the implement himself, and to insure that it would be as strict as he could make it. His young wife, her excellent bosom straining against the bodice of her gown, blushed to hear him describe her fate.

As Monty drew Melisande into an anteroom to begin her service, I withdrew to fortify myself for the fray with a short nap.

It was distinctly not shaping up to be a restful stay.

In such a concentrated burst of activity, much like a battle in many ways, one's foes tend to blur together, and only a few moments can be recalled clearly. Sir Montmorency's wife Morgana was eager enough, exhibiting buttocks of such abundance as to require a longer effort than I had planned. She endured a thorough strapping which left her broad bottom very well bruised indeed. And of course, as she was the first to receive my service. she enjoyed the least of my time. I filled her quickly and returned to my aborted rest.

Her eldest daughter was quite the hoyden, greeting me naked in her room, and offering me the crop with her encouragement. Without needing direction, she turned and bent deeply, exposing a younger, but no less bounteous bottom than her mother's. The crop marked her nicely, wealing the tender flesh of her thighs and buttocks while she gasped and wriggled in invitation.

I believe I may have taught her to be more careful in her exhortations. I certainly tried to impress upon her the dangers of flouting a curse. Since she encouraged me to do my worst, I did. If she can sit within the week, I shall be disappointed. This did not, I must admit, prevent her from accepting me most enthusiastically between her widely spread thighs, and urging a most satisfactory climax to the affair.

The younger daughter offered some poignant moments, suffering nicely through her switching. I was as lenient with her as I could be without casting doubt on the curse, and her buttocks were only moderately raw when she straddled my legs and impaled herself on my lance.

I usually managed to grab a sandwich, a cup of wine and a short nap between such duties. It was exhausting, but certainly of no small value to my knightly reputation that I serviced each of the women as appointed.

Of the others, I remember little, save only for the young knight's wife. She was exquisitely lovely, and would be much favored in the King's court. I must remember to recommend the young knight's summons to court in the near future.

Her name was Anne, and her manner was incredibly delightful. She presented me with her husband's birch, and a stricter version was no likely to be found. It had four long withes, each decorated with buds and twigs, and each of different length. With her eyes shining, she put aside her robe, revealing herself naked, and bade me allay the curse.

Kneeling, thighs widely spread in a posture of submission, she presented me with quite the most spectacular pair of buttocks, and echoed her husband's earlier desire that I thrash her soundly.

I spent rather more time at this assignation than I had planned. She did encourage me to ply the birch with a will, and I endeavored to do so. Her flesh marked most beautifully as the birch crossed her, and the writhing of her buttocks assured me of the severity of my attack. But her voice asked only for more of the same.

Her rump was quite raw when I could delay no longer, and moved to mount her as a stallion mounts a mare. But just as I prepared to enter her, she begged my indulgence. Assuring me that, unknown to her husband, she was recently pregnant, and quite unable to conceive by me in any case, she offered me the hospitality of her bowel instead.

I was a bit astounded by this, as her condition would certainly have exempted her from the thrashing, had she merely mentioned it. Evidently, she did not wish to be exempted. I was beginning to think I had chosen the wrong curse. Of course, by this time, my lance was firmly couched and eager for the fray, so I hesitated not at all in accepting her offer.

As promised, her reception was warm and eager. She seemed to draw me well into her, with her well-warmed rump flexing against my belly. Her enthusiasm as she accepted my impalement was a product more of passion than of distress. Although I was beginning to be a bit exhausted, I delivered a powerful surge of lustful enthusiasm which she received with great good will and an answering rapture of her own.

Between this wench's ardor, and my exhausting schedule, I fear I remember almost nothing of the others. I slapped and strapped and switched several more bare rumps into reddened and squirming masses, and offered my seed into as many greedy wombs.

When, FINALLY, I stepped into my destrier's stirrups to depart, I was most honorably depleted.

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To my delight, Melisande seemed even more tired and subdued than I. Evidently the men of the castle had served her well. When we were well away from the view of the walls, I required her to show me her rump. It was thoroughly and darkly bruised, and she explained tearfully how each and every man who had taken her had honored me extremely well by spanking her at much greater length than I had specified.

She had been stripped of her single garment no sooner than I had begun making my appointments. The castle's lord himself had begun her trial, placing her over his knees and and administering a sound hundred to her bare bottom. She allowed she had found it no chore to exchange that position for one at his feet, entertaining him with her lips and tongue.

As I had ordered, others followed at three hour intervals, so that her bottom was never quite able to recover from one spanking before it was subjected to another. Like my own jousts, the faces of her antagonists had faded into a confused mass, but each and every one had managed to deliver a vigorous and powerful spanking before taking her.

And oddly enough, she said, every man of them had wanted either her mouth or fundament for his pleasure. She had not been had in the traditional manner so much as once during the entire period. Imagine that! By vespers on the second day, she was quite tender behind, and more than willing to perform enthusiastic fellatio in lieu of having another "lance" well up her rump.

Jolly good! Teach her to shoot her mouth off. I think I may expect a tad more modesty from the wench in the future.

Her last spankings were received across a hurdle in the stables. The knight in charge of the horses had offered her service to the esquires who had taken turns tormenting her. One would stand behind and spank her as vigorously as possible, while another would present his erection to her lips. Then they would trade places. They seemed to renew their enthusiasm faster than she could drain them. She was, at the last, unsure that she would ever be allowed to leave the hurdle.

It was, I thought, a most effective lesson in the proprieties expected of a knight's slave. Melisande has, with any luck, learned a great deal from her stay at Sir Montmorency's. She was, she said, greatly sorry for the excesses of language which had brought on this event, and assured me that she was more grateful than ever to be my slave and no other's.

Well and good. Perhaps I wouldn't have to trade her to a troll after all.

And if nothing else, at least my underwear was clean again.

Continued in Part 3

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