Knight in Chastity

Knight in Chastity

 

A Male Chastity Erotic Tale

Elliot Silvestri

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this work are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

 

Knight in Chastity

 

Copyright © 2024 Green Bush Publishing

 

Second Edition

 

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

 

 

A Green Bush Publishing Book

 

The characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Contains adult material that might not be suitable for all audiences. This work is a fantasy; in your own life be sure to follow safer sex practices.

 

All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

 

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

 

 

Preview

About the Author

 

-1-

Chapter 1

 

Virmala Graeme Naxremis watched with dispassion as the knight fought her bodyguard. She was able to watch almost anything with dispassion. She had been a necromantrix for so long it was easy to separate her emotions from the moment, from her body, from reality.

The young knight fought well. Virmala wasn’t certain of the origins of her bodyguard. Vaughgad claimed to be from the barbarian tribes of the north—he did have their thick build and wiry, black hair—but he had the dull-witted expression and heavy brow ridge of an orc. Certainly those in the northern tribes were known to mate with the orc tribes so Virmala wouldn’t doubt Vaughgad had orc blood. Still, he had served her well over the years.

She was certain he wouldn’t continue to serve her for much longer. While the knight was young and seemingly inexperienced, as they moved about the room, their swords flashing and shields bashing, it was obvious the youth had not only natural skill, but also speed and strength to bolster that. Maybe Vaughgad was too old. Maybe the knight was too skilled.

It didn’t matter. Virmala leaned forward in her chair, rested her elbow on her knee, and her chin on her hand, to closely watch the fight.

Vaughgad wore no armor, just leather pants. His chest was broad and muscular. Virmala admired his body, even as it was covered in sweat and cuts. The small amount of blood on his body actually excited her. The knight was wearing full armor, metal plates over his chainmail and a helmet along with his weapons and shield. He should have been overburdened, but he wasn’t. He moved smoothly and quickly. Virmala wanted to see his muscles, but they were hidden by his armor.

There was a way to solve that problem.

A particularly heavy blow from the knight’s sword forced Vaughgad back a step and he slipped to one knee. He lost his shield in the error but was quick enough to bring his sword up to prevent a fatal blow. Vaughgad didn’t see the knight’s kick coming, however, and he suddenly found himself on the ground. The knight was on him in an instant, the tip of his sword pressing against the bodyguard’s neck.

“Yield!” the youth demanded.

Vaughgad looked desperately at Virmala. He said nothing but pleaded with his eyes. She had never seen him in such a vulnerable position before.

Seeing her protector looking at the necromantrix, the knight flicked his eyes her way.

“There is no yielding here,” she said calmly. “There is only life…or death.”

“I will not kill a helpless and vulnerable man,” the knight cried out.

“Then why fight him at all?” she questioned.

The long pause hung in the air. Virmala’s servants were huddled at the edges of the room, waiting. None would interfere, not because they feared the knight, but because they feared their mistress.

“I only came to ask you a favor,” the knight finally said.

“I never grant favors,” Virmala replied. “I will bargain, however.”

“Then I’ll trade your bodyguard’s life for your assistance,” the knight proposed.

“Why would I trade for anything so worthless?”

The knight’s eyes had been glaring down at the bodyguard who was waiting for an opportunity to knock the blade away. Her words caused the knight to glance her way in shock. “You don’t value him at all?”

“No. He lost the fight to you. Kill him.”

“I will not kill a man who is helpless.”

Virmala snickered. “Weak.” She made a small gesture with her finger.

It was the last thing that the knight expected.

His sword dropped down, the point penetrating Vaughgad’s neck. His lifeblood spurted and flowed freely. The dying man clutched at his throat. It was already too late.

The knight pulled his sword free and gasped in horror. There was nothing to be done.

In a few seconds the man was dead.

“You killed him,” he breathed at Virmala.

“It was your sword that cut his throat,” she replied mildly.

Not one member of her retinue cried out in surprise or horror. They did not react at all.

“You used your magic to force it down.”

He stepped away, found a cloth on one of the tables in the room and cleaned the blood away. Pulling off his helmet, he collapsed onto a stool at the table.

He was handsome, but he was young, so that was expected. Virmala could now see his eyes were brilliant blue, his hair a sandy blond. His youthful visage was made younger by the freckles across his nose and cheeks.

His appearance pleased her.

“I did what you would not,” she replied coolly. “Now, you said you had a favor to ask.” She paused. “Ask it.”

“You killed a man loyal to you,” was all he could say.

“You proved better than him. Men willing to take silver to fight and kill are found easily enough. What is your name, young knight?”

She was intrigued that he was so easily aghast at killing.

“Michael,” he said without emotion.

“You carry a noble token,” said Virmala, noting the seal on his chest plate and shield, though the paint on the shield was now heavily scratched. “What is your full name?”

“Sir Michael of Greenleaf.”

“Why did you come to my estate to ask a favor? Certainly a young, handsome knight serving the queen would be happy to grant a favor for service or silver.”

Michael Greenleaf placed his sword on the table. He looked like he never wanted to see it again.

“What I want the queen cannot grant.”

“Tell me,” she whispered.

“I want you to save the life of my betrothed.”

“Plague?”

Michael nodded.

“There are healers and doctors in the service of the queen.”

“They’ve attended to her,” Michael’s eyes looked at the necromantrix without seeing. “She lies in her bed, barely alive.”

Virmala frowned. Usually the red plague, the one that had been bedeviling the land for the past year, killed quickly, a few days at most once the fever and bright red rash developed. Those who survived, maybe half of those who contracted the disease, would recover in a week, but a few would linger for days or weeks until they finally expired, unable to eat or drink in their unresponsive state.

“What makes you think I can heal her? I am a necromantrix, not a healer or hedge witch.” She curled her lip. “Or a doctor.”

“You are my last hope,” Michael explained.

“I doubt that. But what do you have to trade?”

Michael looked at the dead body of Vaughgad. “Nothing, apparently.”

“What are you willing to trade?”

He looked at her, his expression blank, lost. “Anything you want.”

Virmala laughed. “Such a foolish offer, especially to one versed in the deadly magical arts.”

“Without Lyric, I have nothing to live for.”

“Hmm.”

Virmala studied the despondent knight. She was about to make him an offer when he abruptly spoke up.

“I will be your bodyguard. It will mean I will never marry my betrothed, but she must live.”

Laughter poured out of Virmala’s lips. Michael had never heard such delight in his life. It seemed like it should not be a sound issuing from the necromantrix.

“Bodyguards are easy to find, but a queen’s knight…that is something that is useful…”

“I will not be your slave.”

The knight had some respect in him still.

Virmala pursed her lips. “I’ll take something simple from you.”

“What is it you want?” he asked her, afraid.

“Your cock.”

Michael blinked.

“Do you really want me to cut off my cock to save the life of Lyric?”

Once more Virmala laughed. She had not had this much pleasure if far too long, if ever.

“No, you sweet, innocent thing. I don’t want you to mutilate your body for me. I want you to put your cock in my cunt.”

Once more Michael was stunned. This was not what he had been expecting.

“But I am a queen’s knight. I serve at her pleasure. I serve because I am pure.”

Virmala waved that aside. “Yes, yes. You’re pure and virginal.” She snorted. “As if I believe that.”

“I am,” he insisted.

“Fine. Tell the queen whatever you want. I want your cock and a night in bed with you.”

It was a devil’s bargain. It was worse than that. He would be breaking his vows, but he told himself it was for a greater good. He would save the life of Lyric. He would be able to marry her. He would owe the necromantrix nothing beyond a night in her bed. He could return to the city and the queen’s service and no one would know and Lyric would be saved.

Michael stood up.

“I will honor your request, to save the life of my beloved.”

Arching an eyebrow, Virmala asked, “She’s your beloved now?”

Michael didn’t answer her.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

Servants dragged Vaughgad’s body out of the manor house’s main hall. Michael watched when Virmala stood up from her chair and exited the room. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He wondered if she had cast a spell on him.

The necromantrix was unlike any other woman he had ever met. This applied to her mannerisms, personality, and dress.

The women of the queen’s court wore fashionable and modest dresses with bright colors, floral motifs, and complex patterns. Virmala wore a black dress that clung obscenely to her body. The skirt was slit on the side all the way up to her hip. The neckline plunged deeply between her breasts.

The women of the queen’s court were politicians or priestesses. Virmala was a necromantrix.

The women of the queen’s court wore nothing on their faces. Virmala stained her lips bright red.

The women of the queen’s court had elegant and intricate hairstyles that showed off their natural hair colors, mostly shades of red and blonde, though some dyed their tresses outrageous colors for the season or to match a dress. Virmala wore a black skullcap, hiding her hair.

The women of the queen’s court tended to be curvy, even Michael knew that. They ate a rich and varied diet. Virmala’s body was lean and angular.

The women of the queen’s court had eye colors that were green and blue; sometimes they used magic to change the eyes to bright purples or pinks. Virmala’s eyes were dark, almost black, but seemed to glow anyway.

Michael wondered if the woman was truly human.

He was led by a servant to a chamber where he assumed he would have a chance to bathe, giving him a chance to remove the sweat and blood from his body and face.

He thought Virmala would want him to bathe. He was wrong.

The necromantrix swept into the room, moving smoothly with light steps. He only knew she had entered because the heavy door swung shut behind her, slamming loudly. He was in the middle of removing the cotton shirt worn under his armor, which he had already placed on the table in the room.

He had figured the bed was there because this was a guest room. He started to speak, turning around to face the person who had entered.

“Where is the bath?” He blinked when he saw it was Virmala in the room with him.

“There is no bath in this room.”

“Don’t…don’t you want me to clean myself?”

They were a few paces apart so Virmala leaned forward and inhaled deeply through her nose. “I like the scent of a man.”

“I should bathe,” he said as he nervously finished removing his shirt.

“No,” said Virmala. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, but it had a touch of the look of a predator ready to kill.

There was no going back now. He set aside the shirt but didn’t know if he should remove his boots. It would involve sitting on the bed. He wasn’t ready for that.

As he dithered, Virmala stood back and pulled at the shoulders to her dress. Except for the slit up the side and the plunging neckline, it covered nearly every inch of her body other than her hands and face. Michael couldn’t move as she pulled and then abruptly and neatly rolled the sleeves down her arms and pushed the garment off her hips.

Virmala stood before him, nude and unconcerned.

His eyes drank in her body.

While he had seen women naked before, it was never in this context. As a boy, he had spied on the maidens bathing. He had admired the art in the galleries of the palace, like most of his peers he spent far too much time gazing upon the explicit nudes captured in oil paint on canvas. All of those women were beautiful.

Virmala was beautiful in a completely different manner than all of those others.

The air in the manor house was cool because of the thick stone walls. This caused her nipples to contract and stand erect. Michael stared at her breasts. They were small. They were so small that it gave her an oddly child-like appearance, but that was offset by the black ring piercing the tender pink flesh of her left nipple. It was unnatural. The women of the queen’s court would pierce their earlobes to wear earrings, but he was used to that. A few of the more fashion-forward courtiers would wear nose rings, but this was something else entirely.

Virmala’s body was long and lithe. Her skin was incredibly pale, not just pale but almost white. Her neck was elegant, but while he tried not to stare at her nudity, looking at her neck didn’t help. She wasn’t completely naked. She wore a thin silver chain around her neck. Black leather boots came up to her knees. There was the ring in her nipple. The black leather skullcap remained perched on her head.

Unable to resist any longer, he stared at her hips and inspected her cunt.

He liked the shades of red and yellow common among the queen’s attendants that hid away their cunts. Usually their pubic curls were darker shades, but that intrigued him. Dark brown was not unknown and seemed exotic.

Virmala’s body, Michael now realized, was completely hairless. He could see her nether lips pouting between her thighs. Just looking caused his manhood to stiffen inside his pants.

And she seemed entirely unconcerned.

“It will be impossible for this to work if you don’t take off your pants,” Virmala said mildly as she walked to the bed. Her heels clicked loudly on the stone floor. She stopped in front of Michael, looking him up and down. He didn’t move.

Her arm was faster than a snake. Suddenly she was cupping his crotch, feeling his hardness. A smile spread across her bright red lips. “You’re more than ready for me, aren’t you?”

Michael found he was unable to answer.

Virmala abruptly dropped to her knees and worked at the closures to his pants. He wanted to stop her, but couldn’t. He thought maybe she had cast some paralysis spell on him, but that made no sense.

“Beautiful,” breathed Virmala as she tugged his pants down to mid-thigh. His cock bounced out proudly. It was thick and slightly curved, but perfectly sized for the necromantrix’s hand. She curled her fingers around the shaft, steadying it. The root grew out of a tangle of dark blonde, almost brassy, curls that extended in a thin line up to his belly. The head was darker, not purple, but a gentle red.

When Virmala licked the end of his cock, Michael’s knees gave out and he fell backwards onto the edge of the bed. In the process he broke the thin, wet string of precum that had extended from his cock to her tongue.

“It's been a long time since I’ve done such drudgery, but let me help you with your boots.” Virmala placed a foot on either side of his legs, presented her ass to Michael, and then proceeded to remove his footgear. Michael didn’t know what to think when he looked at her ass and her exposed cunt.

His cock throbbed.

“You are a virgin,” said Virmala when she was done removing his boots and pants. He was completely naked now. He was vulnerable and trapped.

“Yes,” he answered automatically.

“It’s obvious,” she told him.

“I’m sorry,” he practically sobbed.

She liked the fear she was inspiring in him.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” she told him as she climbed on the bed and him. She didn’t bother to remove her skullcap or boots or necklace or nipple ring, though he couldn’t imagine how one would easily remove a piece of metal through her flesh.

When she was on top of him, Michael realized he had to be almost a foot taller than the necromantrix. It hadn’t been obvious when they were standing. She worked her way up his body. When her skin touched his, it was like he was on fire, but a pleasant fire.

When she kissed the side of his neck, he knew he was helpless to resist her. Maybe he could have copulated with her and walked away with his prize, but somehow her mere close presence was enough to make him her slave in everything but name.

Her lips found his. It was like she was sucking his soul.

Then her tongue was inside his mouth and he would have described what he felt as love, except it was the opposite of love.

Not hate.

Lust.

“You say you are a virgin,” she said. “You’ve never fucked a woman?”

He shook his head no.

“Kissed a woman?”

“N-n-no,” he stuttered.

“A man?” she asked, turning her head and arching an eyebrow.

“NO!”

Virmala threw her head back and laughed. She then grasped his cock again. It was hot and throbbing.

When Virmala shared sexual pleasures she preferred her partners lick and suck and eat her cunt until she was dripping with desire. That wasn’t necessary with Michael. Knowing she was going to corrupt him was more than enough for her amrita to flow; it slicked her cunt lips and wet her inner thighs.

She sat down on his cock, working the stiff member into her cunt. She kept watch on his face. He gasped as he felt things that should have been forbidden to all but those bound in matrimony and love.

“I can feel your cock throbbing in my cunt,” she whispered to him, sitting down on her thighs, resting her hands on his chest. “I’m sure your beloved will enjoy it as much as me.” She lifted her hips. “More, I think.” She sat down again.

Michael could no longer resist. He came.

His seed flooded her cunt.

She tossed back her head and laughed in delight.

She was delighted his cock stayed hard.

Then she noticed that Michael was crying.

“Tears? From a queen’s knight?”

“I’ve betrayed my betrothed and my queen.”

Virmala leaned forward and whispered in his ear even though no one was there to overhear. “I won’t tell. Your secret is safe with me.”

Moving off his body, she reclined on the bed next to him. Michael was afraid to move, afraid that somehow any action he took would destroy everything.

But he had already destroyed everything.

“Ugh,” said Virmala after a minute. “You came, but I received little pleasure.” She moved her hand on top of his cock. He was still hard. “But it looks like we can fuck a second time.”

Michael seemed to recover himself. “I told you that you could have my cock. I’ve fulfilled my half of the bargain.”

Virmala placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “I said I wanted your cock. I didn’t say how many times.”

Before he could think of a retort, she moved quickly, her mouth engulfing his manhood.

He gasped and shivered.

For Michael, it was one thing to imagine having intercourse with a woman, but it was something else entirely to not only imagine her mouth pleasuring him but to see it in person.

His cock responded.

Virmala liked his eagerness.

She liked how hard he got and so quickly.

She knew she had a choice to make. She could mount him again, but she was certain the second round would be just as disappointing for her as the first time.

Instead, she bobbed her head up and down on his thickness, cupping his vulnerable balls with one hand, steadying the shaft with the other.

Michael didn’t complain. He couldn’t.

Virmala thought about the many ways she had debased herself in her life.

This wasn’t one of those times.

It was a pleasure to control the young knight this way.

It didn’t take long. In the past Virmala had fellated men until her jaw had locked up. This took less than two minutes and then, without warning, Michael was jetting thick cum into her mouth.

Swallowing his seed was an easy deed.

Michael was gasping and on the verge of tears again.

“If you didn’t want to do this, why did you agree to it?” the necromantrix asked him after swallowing the last of his last ejaculate and licking her lips.

“Because I need to save Lyric’s life.”

“So noble.” She pouted a little, not at his answer, but because his cock was starting to wilt. He would need a moment or two to recover.

Maybe longer.

She kissed his hip and inhaled his musky scent. She moved to his stomach and then his chest, giving him more kisses combined with little licks, tasting his sweat, consuming his essence.

Then she moved off the bed and stood up.

He couldn’t help but look at her lean buttocks and admire the way the muscles moved under her pale skin.

Once more he was surprised by the woman. He was becoming exhausted at her surprises. Virmala removed her black skullcap. Underneath he had expected to see simple hair, cut short, maybe the black or brown on the northern barbarians.

Her head was as smooth as an old man’s, completely hairless like her cunt.

She tossed the small hat aside and turned to look at Michael. “Would you like a bath now?”

He couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth. “You need to bathe?”

Her face was split by her wide grin when she laughed. “Of course I do. Just because I like the scent and taste of a man’s body doesn’t mean I deny myself the pleasure of a hot bath.”

She turned away from him and walked across the black stone floor to one of the doors of the bedroom. She pushed it open and descended the stairs that it revealed.

Michael had been admiring the way her buttocks moved as she walked. The moment she disappeared down the stairs, he was off the bed and following her. His cock was now deflated which made moving easier.

By the time he reached the bottom of the long set of stairs Virmala had already settled into the pool of heated water, mostly hiding her body. Halfway down the stairs he realized he was walking into a bath of some sort, but this was unlike any bath he had ever seen back on the island Queendom of Carrow. Their baths were tiled rooms where warm water was piped into tubs; the water heated at some central location.

Here, in Virmala’s manor, the bath was made from the same dark stone as the rest of the building. The bath itself was a round pool in the middle of the floor. Steam rose from the hot water that bubbled from some underground source. Along one wall were several hanging robes and towels. The stairs he had descended was only one of five sets that met in this large room with a low ceiling. He didn’t have to duck his head, but there was only a few inches above his head. He was glad he was barefoot and not in boots. He would have scraped his head on the rough stone ceiling. The floor was smooth, almost slick with moisture.

“Join me,” she said, moving her hands through the water.

There were steps into the pool. Michael tread carefully on the first step.

The water wasn’t just warm. It was almost painfully hot. Not willing to be cowed by a woman, Michael descended the rest of the way into the pool.

The hot water felt good on his skin. The heat soothed his muscles. When he started to settle onto one of the seats opposite Virmala, he realized the water was flowing through the pool. The bath itself was circular, ten feet across, built out of the dark stones, but the water moved from one side of the pool to the other. It seemed almost wasteful.

“How do you heat so much water?” he asked as he sat down. The bubbling water nearly reached his neck.

Since she was smaller than him, the water reached to just under Virmala’s chin. “I do not. This is a natural hot spring. One of the many wonders of my lands.”

“It is…nice.”

She smiled and licked her lips. The red stain did not move. “It’s much better than those tiny tepid barrels in Queen Rachel’s palace, don’t you think?”

Michael hesitated, but he couldn’t lie. “This is better,” he agreed.

“You should feel honored,” said Virmala. “You are the tenth man whose virginity I have taken.” She allowed her legs to float freely in the bubbling water. Her toes poked above the surface.

Michael was agog. He didn’t want to openly judge the woman—after all, she had promised to save his fiancée’s life—but to admit she had had sex with ten men…

No! At least ten men. She had said she had taken ten men’s virginities, implying there had been other lovers who weren’t virgins.

That was just not done in the Queendom of Carrow. The nobility of the queendom were modest. Certainly sex was discussed, but not openly, and no woman, no lady, no noblewoman, would admit to having so many lovers.

Michael knew the necromantrix was older than him. It was impossible to tell her age. He had only seen twenty six summers. Virmala had an odd beauty to her face and body, but he realized when he thought about it he had no idea how old she was. She could have been twenty, forty, or a hundred years old.

As he studied her now, he noted her eyes were slightly tilted, her cheekbones were high and angular, and her skin was flawless, smooth, and unwrinkled. She was human, certainly, but the way her face was put together hinted that perhaps she wasn’t entirely human.

“Tenth?” he finally managed to say.

“That I know of,” she easily replied. “Others might have been lying.”

Michael nodded and worked his jaw, not knowing what to say. He hated the words that came out. “How…how many men have you…?”

He couldn’t finish the question.

“A lady never tells,” she said and abruptly moved across the pool, sloshing water over the edge onto the stones. She moved on top of him, straddling his hips with her thighs. He looked down and saw her small breasts floating. The dark metal ring in her nipple drew his attention.

Deciding that he didn’t really want to know all that much about her, Michael managed to shift the conversation. “How are you going to heal Lyric?” he asked her, reminding them both why he was doing this at all.

Virmala drew back which brought her breasts on eye level for Michael. He stared at the nipple ring. He loved and hated the feel of her skin on his. The hot water made things more intense.

“Who says I’m to heal her at all?”

Michael became angry. “You promised!”

She laughed at him, her head back in delight. “What if you heal her?”

“I’m no doctor, no healer. What can I do?”

“I can give you everything you need to save her.”

“But…how?”

She bent down and kissed his lips. He kissed back. He didn’t know what else to do.

“I assure you that I will do everything to save your betrothed's life.”

“You scare me,” he said.

Virmala reached down into the water and found his cock. It was hard. “Not enough, apparently.”

“You…excite me.”

“Spend the night with me and I will save the girl’s life.”

Michael had no will to resist her.

 

 

Chapter 3

 

The bed in which Michael woke was not the same one where Virmala had taken his virginity. He regretted everything he had done the night before.

She was asleep in the bed next to him. He was naked. So was she. He wanted to wipe away the night’s memories. There had to be a priestess who could do that for him back in Carrow.

Michael made to slip out of the bed, but a quick motion from Virmala stopped him. Somehow, under the covers, her hand found his cock. His hard cock. He moaned and stopped moving.

“Young men always wake up with a hard cock. It’s a trait that is more desirable than you think.”

“I agreed to fulfill your desires last night. This morning is something different.”

Virmala didn’t let go of him. He was nervous now not because of what they had done, but because he had been gone so long from Carrow. It had been a week. It was too long.

“One last time,” she said. “One last time and I guarantee to save the life of your…what was her name again?”

It took Michael a moment, a long, uncomfortable moment before he was able to summon the name of his betrothed to his lips. “Lyric. Lyric Skyroot. And you already promised to save her life.”

“I promised to see if I could. But now I’m guaranteeing it.” A smile twitched her lips.

Michael shook his head. “You’re obfuscating something. You aren’t going to—”

She silenced him with a kiss while working her hand up and down on his cock.

“Fuck me,” she told him. “Fuck me hard like the man you are. Prove you love her.”

Her words only confused him. “That…that makes no sense.”

She kissed him again. He liked her tongue in his mouth. “Do you know what cunt tastes like?” she asked.

Michael shivered. He was certain she was doing something to him with her magic. When her hands went to his shoulders, he found himself being pushed down and then he was between her legs, looking directly at her cunt.

He had never seen one so close before. Her scent was strong. It made his head spin. It was irresistible. Michael leaned in and licked her sex. The pink lips parted and he tasted her wetness. It was better than any wine, any mead he had ever consumed. Her slit was complex and simple at the same time. At the top was a little projection, her clit. He teased that with his tongue, listened to her gasps, and then sucked on it, delighting in the change of her moans and the way her body thrashed in the bed.

Michael was captivated by her physical charms. It was wrong but he couldn’t pull himself away. She allowed him to explore her folds and swells, letting Michael lose himself.

“Your cock, I need it,” she commanded.

There was no way for him to resist now. He moved back up her body. Her fingers curled around his hardness and she guided him inside her cunt.

Michael shuddered as they were joined.

“Fuck me,” she ordered. “You must fuck me.”

There was no possible way for him to say no. He slammed his body against hers, driving his cock into her as hard as possible. She grunted in delight. Michael repeated a silent mantra over and over, knowing what they were doing was both normal and twisted. He didn’t think of the consequences; he only thought of the perverse pleasure he had in slamming down into her.

He wanted to wrap his strong hands around her thin neck and squeeze, just to see her reaction, just to enjoy her terror, just to hurt her. To kill her.

But he couldn’t. Not because he loved her, but because he loved Lyric.

He came. His grunt of relief was powerful and with each ejaculation inside her cunt, he grunted again and again. It felt wonderful.

It pained his soul.

When he was done, he collapsed on her, not caring if she had taken any pleasure in their violent copulation. “There. Are you pleased now?”

Her fingers lightly danced over his back. “Very much so.”

Michael was unable to move for a minute. She finally pushed on him and with her assistance he heaved his body off hers. They were covered in sweat and cum. He felt disgusted.

He felt elated.

“Join me in the bath,” she said, rising easily out of the bed. His eyes tracked her to a door. The room they were in was huge, bigger than any private bedroom he had ever seen. She opened the door and started descending. From the humidity that escaped he knew it was back down into the baths.

After a moment he followed.

This morning, unlike the previous night, Virmala only seemed interested in truly cleaning her body. She dug her fingers into the sandsoap kept in a bowl on the pool’s ledge and then scrubbed her body. Michael watched in fascination. Because her body was so smooth, it seemed unnatural that she should scrub it at all. He followed suit, not knowing what else to do.

“You can stay with me, here, if you want,” Virmala offered. “You don’t have to return to…her.”

Michael was tempted. He knew if he stayed, he would be Virmala’s thrall. That wouldn’t be so bad. She was a powerful woman, a necromantrix, a ruler of her small lands. He would be…what? Her protector? Bodyguard? Consort? Lover?

All of these were tempting.

But he had made a promise.

He shook his head. “I made a promise, a vow, to Lyric.”

She moved across the pool and kissed him. “A promise you’ll keep with a kiss.”

When they climbed out of the pool, Michael was confronted with servants who helped him dress. He didn’t like being naked in front of them, but during the night they had washed his clothing and cleaned his armor.

He was brought to the manor’s hall where breakfast awaited him. His sword and shield were returned to him. The sword had been sharpened. The seal on the shield had been expertly repainted.

Virmala was waiting for him. She was dressed in black again, her skullcap back in place giving the illusion of hair. It wasn’t the same dress as before. This new one had a dark purple skirt. It was tradition that only the monarch, Queen Rachel, was allowed to wear purple. It would be a slap in the face if Virmala were to wear the skirt in Rachel’s court, but they were safe in Virmala’s manor.

She was unlike any woman Michael had ever met or imagined.

“Last chance,” she told him. She was seated at the head table, the morning’s repast in front of her. Next to her sat an empty chair and a full plate.

On the edge of the table, away from her hands, but within easy reach for Michael, was a small crystal flask full of a dark red liquid.

“Sit with me…or take the potion to her.”

She was a temptress, Michael knew that now. He had passed the test.

Or so he hoped.

He grabbed the flask and all but ran out of the hall, out to the courtyard where his steed waited.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

A journey that should have taken a week, Michael shortened to four days, pushing his horses hard, changing mounts every time he reached one of the queen’s inns along the highway, traveling for every moment of daylight. By the time he reached the Channel Mile he was exhausted. The island queendom of Carrow was separated from the mainland by a protective and all but unnavigable channel of water. The island could only be reached by one of the three bridges, each a mile long, each heavily protected and guarded.

Michael, as a member of the queen’s knights, was allowed to pass without questioning. Once on the island it was a half day’s ride to the Skyroot family’s manor house.

They had been waiting for him. They had been waiting for any sort of hope.

Lyric had a younger sister who was bereft. Her parents hadn’t left the house since Lyric had fallen.

“She lives?” he asked the butler when admitted to the house.

“Barely, but yes.”

Michael knew the way. He climbed the stairs and barged into the private room that had become a medical ward for the girl. The flask in his hand was their last hope that she was not on her deathbed.

A nurse was in attendance. Calliope, her little sister, was quietly reading next to the window. Lyric’s parents were not to be found.

“I have the cure,” Michael said to the nurse, brandishing the flask.

The old woman’s lips pressed into a tight line. “She stopped suckling yesterday.”

The only thing that had been keeping Lyric alive was her ability to take in small sips of water and broth while barely conscious. If she couldn’t do this now…

“The potion will save her regardless,” Michael declared and went to the bed.

She was still beautiful, if now wan and much thinner than he remembered. Her skin was positively gray. When he slipped his arm under her torso to sit her upright, she seemed frighteningly thin and weightless.

Wasting no time, he popped the cork on the flask, tilted back her head, and poured the potion down her throat.

Lyric managed to swallow most of the bright red liquid. Some dribbled down her cheeks and chin. She must have had some autonomic functions still working.

Michael held her body, watching her face, waiting for some reaction.

At her table, Calliope watched with silent curiosity.

A long minute passed.

The nurse stood by, quiet as a hunting cat.

“It’s supposed to work,” Michael mumbled. “I was promised. Guaranteed…”

“Perhaps…perhaps it’s too late,” the nurse suggested.

He whirled around and glared at the old woman, looming above her, implied threat at the ready. But then he collapsed in on himself. She was to provide succor. She wasn’t there to cause problems.

Gasping for air, Michael threw aside the flask, heard the crystal break, and stormed out of the room.

He went to the courtyard garden where he sat on a bench and then, unexpectedly, burst into tears.

No one, not even Lyric’s parents, dared approach him.

He wasn’t sure how long he was in the courtyard. It might have been forever. He heard people moving through the house, creating the usual bustle and noises necessary to maintain a noble’s household. There was the clatter of horses coming and going, servants rushing to complete their tasks.

“Ambassador Victoria would like to speak with you, Sir Michael.” The servant just appeared in front of Michael. He was dressed in the livery of the Skyroot house. Michael did not recognize his face.

“Ambassador Victoria?” he asked.

“She just arrived.” The servant turned and walked away.

Michael followed.

He expected to be taken to the main hall or the Lady Skyroot’s study.

He didn’t expect to be taken to Lyric’s bedroom.

He didn’t expect to find Virmala in the bedroom.

After taking two steps inside the room, he stopped dead upon seeing Virmala. She wasn’t exactly as he had left her, but it was obvious to his eyes who she was.

Maybe she was fooling the nurse and servants and Lyric’s parents, now huddled near the unmoving girl’s bed.

Or maybe she wasn’t trying to fool anyone at all.

Ambassador Victoria wore an elegant gray dress indicating her political status. Gone was her black skullcap. She now had long black hair falling down her back. Her lips were still bright red, but now the color seemed muted. The dress’s skirt hid her legs, but Michael was certain he saw high heeled boots half-hidden. The one thing that stayed with the transition from Virmala to Victoria was the way her dress clung to her body, showing how slim she was. This was in high contrast to the noblewomen who wore bright, colorful dresses with artificial means of enhancing body shape and size.

In short, she was the opposite of what any respectable noblewoman of Carrow would look like or dress like.

“Ah. Sir Michael. I was told you administered a healing potion draught to the poor girl earlier. Is this true?”

Michael was stunned. She was pretending she didn’t know him. “Uh…yes. True.”

“To no effect?”

He gestured to the bed where Lyric lay, still breathing shallowly. “She’s unchanged. Dying.”

“Let me see what I can do,” said Ambassador Victoria, shrugging out of her jacket to reveal long, elegant bare arms.

Lyric’s father raised his eyebrows.

Her mother frowned and narrowed her eyes.

Victoria, as if sensing their reactions without looking at them, afforded them a quick glance. “It makes it easier for me to work.”

The necromantrix waved her arms about in a complex pattern, something Michael hadn’t seen before, and then placed one hand on Lyric’s forehead and the other on her chest.

“What is she—?” Lyric’s father started to say but was silenced by his wife.

A faint light glowed under Victoria’s hands, where she touched the young girl’s skin. Or maybe that was a trick of the light. Sunlight was streaming through the window. The room was bright. But Michael was positive there was a glow.

Victoria had her eyes shut in concentration.

The abrupt gasp from Lyric was unnerving. Her eyes briefly opened wide as she pulled air into her lungs as if for the first time. In a blink of an eye, she sat up, looked around the room, and then collapsed back to the bed.

The few in attendance cried out together, confused and upset.

Only Victoria remained impassive.

“She’s dead!”

“My baby!”

“Dearest gods!”

A wail of grief filled the air.

“The girl is fine. It will take time, but she will recover. The worst is over.”

Upon a second look Michael realized this was true. Already a pinkish color had returned to Lyric’s skin. Her breathing came easier. The beads of sweat on her forehead had evaporated.

“I need to visit the queen’s court,” Ambassador Victoria said to the parents, who were now kissing the girl’s forehead and hand in relief.

Michael just looked on with uncomprehending eyes.

“If you will accompany me, Sir Michael? My carriage awaits.”

Michael nodded mechanically. He had nothing else to do.

The carriage was built for traveling in comfort, not for speed. Michael couldn’t understand how the necromantrix had been just behind him when he had been riding hard for the past four days. He knew it involved magic; he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to know.

The carriage was drawn by four horses, all equally matched, and was guided by a solitary and taciturn driver. The exterior was shiny dove gray with brilliant silver highlights. The spacious interior featured leather seats that were lushly cushioned. It was the carriage of a noblewoman, an ambassador.

A deceiver.

Once they were settled in and underway, Michael blurted out a question before Virmala could say a single word. “The potion you gave me was useless!”

She was unmoved. “Was it?”

“Yes. And you knew that!”

“And yet the girl lives.” She smiled. “I did guarantee you that, did I not?”

“Why are you here?” he demanded, turning the conversation.

“I’m the ambassador from the Lavian district,” she replied. “I am reporting to the queen.”

“I’m no fool. You have other plans.”

They had been sitting facing each other, Michael riding facing the carriage’s back. Without moving she was suddenly next to him. Her hand was on his thigh.

Never before had he wanted his armor so desperately.

“I do have other plans,” she said huskily. “You left before I was done with you.”

The carriage continued rolling along. It would be an hour before they reached the palace. Michael wanted out of the vehicle.

“I’m done with you,” he told her.

“I don’t think so.” Her hand moved up his thigh and cupped his cock through his pants.

He was already hard.

“Don’t.” It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t begging.

“You know you want to,” she said as she kissed him.

Michael kissed back. He couldn’t stop himself.

The carriage trundled on. The Queen’s road was well-maintained and smooth. When Virmala slid to the carriage’s floor, between Michael’s legs, the motion of the carriage only enhanced what she did for him.

Opening his pants was the difficult part. Once that was done, it was easy to lower her mouth on his cock and start sucking away.

He could have stopped her.

He didn’t.

He liked it.

The danger. The excitement. This was not something a knight of the queen was supposed to do, not after Ambassador Victoria had just saved the life of Sir Michael’s betrothed.

“We can’t do this in here,” he told her, putting on at least a show of resistance to her sexual indiscretion.

“We already are,” she assured him.

He let her fellate him. He was already corrupted. This was the end of his career as a knight. He would be banished from the queendom. He would be lucky to find work as a sell sword.

“Cum for me,” she told him, licking the underside of his cock. “Cum for me and you’ll belong to me forever.”

He didn’t want to cum.

But he so desperately wanted to cum.

There was only one thing to do.

He came. He came hard in her mouth.

She swallowed every drop.

Virmala refused to release his cock until she had sucked every ounce from his balls. It was painful but he didn’t stop her.

When she finally let his soft flesh escape her mouth, Michael let out a long, painful groan.

“Never again,” he told her.

Virmala snickered. “You don’t mean that. But I will make sure you never get to fuck another woman.”

From seemingly nowhere, she produced a large silver ring. She showed it to Michael and then, using considerable skill, slipped it over his cock and balls, settling it against his body.

“What in the name of the gods are you doing? I don’t wear jewelry.”

The necromantrix didn’t look up at him. From wherever she had the ring, she now plucked a curved silver tube. Before Michael knew what she was doing, Virmala had stuffed his soft cock down into the tube and attached it to the ring, effectively locking his manhood away.

There was no lock. No key. And yet she had his cock in a metal cage. She had to have used magic to fuse the pieces together. He pulled at the device, trying to remove it. His flesh stretched, but not nearly enough. Trying to pull it off was painful.

As much as he didn’t want it on his cock, he still didn’t want his cock ripped from his body.

“This is a just a piece of security to make sure you don’t accidentally fuck your betrothed before you’re married.”

“Remove it,” he ordered her in his most commanding voice. “Now.” He reached for his belt and realized he had left both sword and dagger with his steed at the Skyroot’s manor.

Virmala settled back in her seat and wiped carefully at her artfully painted lips, removing the last traces of her saliva and his cum. “No. You need to suffer. You promised me your cock if I save that girl’s life. I saved her life. Your cock now belongs to me.”

“Take it off!” he barked at her.

His shout was loud enough to be heard over the clatter of the horses’ hooves and carriage’s wheels, but the driver didn’t stop. They were in the middle of a field. No one heard anything.

Virmala frowned. “I can remove it, but then your heart’s desire will perish.”

“You lie!”

“There’s only one way to find out.” She smiled. “But I promise you relief whenever you need it. Just come to me. I’ll happily fuck and suck you.”

“I will not. I will not betray Lyric.”

The necromantrix snorted. “You already have. But now you get to decide how many times you get to betray her.”

Michael sneered at her. “Are you going to keep this on me for the rest of my life? I’ll report to the Captain of the Queen’s Knights. He’ll have you arrested. He’ll find a way to remove it.”

“You’re supposed to be chaste and virginal until you marry, are you not?” she replied. “But I promise to remove it…after a year or when you marry Lyric. A simple bargain.”

He looked aghast at her.

“Take it off me! Now!” He spoke the words in his most commanding voice, the voice he used to berate incompetent servants and inept pages and squires.

Virmala was unmoved. “No. You made a bargain. I’m keeping the bargain.”

“It was my cock for the night!” he seethed at her.

“And your beloved’s condition was much worse than I anticipated. Another couple of hours and she would have been dead. Don’t worry. It will take her the better part of a year, if not longer, to fully recover from her ordeal. You won’t be using your cock during that time.” Virmala paused. “You won’t be using your cock with her during that time,” she corrected herself.

“My fellow knights and my captain will see this on me,” he growled through clenched teeth. “How will I explain it?”

“That’s not my concern. Maybe you should join the Casta Knights. I understand that they refuse marriage as part of their service.”

His brow furrowed. “How would you know such a thing? How would you know anything about the martial orders of Carrow?”

She smiled at him. “I am the ambassador from Lavia.”

When the carriage arrived at the palace, Michael exited the vehicle stiffly. He told himself he was still sore from riding so hard over the past days. He didn’t want to think that the metal trap on his cock was causing him difficulty.

The moment he took a step, he was incredibly aware of his manhood and how it was now contained.

Virmala exited the carriage smoothly. There were the usual protocols of entering the palace, but shortly they were on their way, escorted by a pair of the queen’s guards, an entirely different martial order than the queen’s knights.

Michael found he couldn’t concentrate on the proceedings inside the court. He had seen and interacted with Queen Rachel many times before. There was a lot going on in the court today. Minor but important business. Ambassador Victoria was moved to the top of the agenda when the queen’s majordomo saw her.

“And our cousin Lyric Skyroot is now recovered due to your good graces?” the queen asked Victoria.

“Well, that and the aid of her fiance, Sir Michael. He was indispensable in his assistance in summoning me,” Victoria said. “He escorted me all the way here.” That was a lie, a small lie, but a lie nonetheless. Michael was uncomfortable with that. He had told many lies and untruths lately.

The queen turned to Michael, who had been standing at Victoria’s side. “Thank you for your assistance, Sir Michael.”

“It is merely part of my duty.”

“Will you now be marrying Lady Lyric as soon as possible?” The queen was blunt in her question.

Before Michael could answer, Victoria interrupted. “I’m afraid that will not be possible, Queen Rachel.”

“Why not?” There was just a hint of royal ire in the queen’s voice.

“It will take the better part of a year for the lady to fully recover. I will be staying here in the city until she reaches full health. She will need regular treatments from me.”

“You said a moment ago Lyric was recovered,” the queen reminded her.

“True, but perhaps I misspoke. She is no longer in immediate danger of dying. Her case of plague was particularly bad. I saved her life, but to be herself again will take time. Until her treatment is completed, there is little she will be able to do but lay in bed. Perhaps she’ll be able to read during her recovery. A sanitarium should not be necessary, but fresh air and sunlight and bed rest in addition to my attending to her.”

The queen looked skeptical. “I see. I am not a healer or doctor like you, Ambassador Victoria, so I will defer to your expertise.” Once again she focused on Michael. “And what will you do while your betrothed recovers? A year is a long time…and no time at all.”

Michael hesitated, but then spoke after clearing his throat. “I thought that I might…I might join one of the martial orders while Lyric recovers.”

“An excellent idea. But don’t do it before tomorrow.”

“Tonight?”

The queen smiled. “Tomorrow night is Princess Cecelia’s farewell party. She is to marry in a week.”

 

The depravity that Michael witnessed at Princess Cecelia’s farewell party was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

The farewell party was traditionally a celebration of a daughter leaving her mother’s house. That was a centuries-old tradition. Now it was just a party for younger members of the nobility to mark one last wild spree of amusement before the married woman—and her husband—was supposed to assume a more mature role in the court.

There were few men at the party. Most of the guests were, of course, women. Most of those providing entertainment or serving were men.

Princess Cecelia was already half-drunk when Michael arrived. The musicians were playing their instruments fast and loud. Alcohol was flowing literally from a fountain. An ice sculpture in the middle of the room was dispensing cocktails at the guests’ whims. Dancers swirled around one open floor, women taking the lead and choosing different partners with each new song.

Michael took a turn around the room, accepted a flagon of some drink, and watched the female guests.

It wasn’t supposed to be a literal orgy, but to his inexperienced eyes, it seemed it was going rapidly in that direction. Some of the women’s dresses had slipped down, exposing their breasts. A few had worn dresses that were easily removed and were walking around in elaborate lingerie that everyone pretended was perfectly acceptable party wear.

But it was the male entertainers and servers that were showing the most skin. A few were completely nude. Michael was unsure if the nude men showed up that way or were stripped of their clothing when their duties started. The women gripped the men’s asses and felt their muscles, but that was expected at this sort of party.

Michael was taken aback at how aggressively some of the women would fondle the entertainer’s cocks to the point of making their flesh hard and erect.

But somehow the women managed to mostly contain themselves and not take it any further.

They were waiting for a signal.

A cry from the crowd brought Michael over to one end of the large reception hall being used for the party. A makeshift combat ring had been set up on a dais. Two large, muscular men were facing off against each other. Both had shaved heads. Their bodies were equally hairless. Oil had been rubbed into their skin, making them seem to glow in the party’s magical lamplight. One wore a green leather collar around his neck. The other wore a similar red collar. They wore no clothing. Michael caught the end of a conversation between two women.

“Why are they naked? Shouldn’t they wear something to protect their…?”