The Knight’s Slave Girl [MF] [anal] [fantasy] [exhibitionism] [fsub] [Mdom] [humiliation] [non con] [drugs] [oral] [prostitution] [reluctance]

**ONE**

The girl was terrified, unable to bear or comprehend that she was finally going to meet one of the terrible fates she had fought so hard to escape. He could see it in her eyes, in her hateful glance. They were in the land of Teluria, the continent which held the western realms. An ocean breeze caressed Tier, the capital city. They stood in the king’s palace, in the long, rectangular, stone throne room; the ceiling arched far above them and pale, cold light trickled in from the high windows. Newly minted lords and knights lined the walls and filled the room with echoing sniggers and japes. King Barion, sitting casually on the throne, had just offered up the girl as a final prize for Ben’s service, and had commanded her stripped for his inspection. Every curve of her was bared now, her plain slip in rags on the floor. She tried to cover herself with an arm hugging her ample breasts, and her other hand was tucked over her groin. He could see her blushing and her gaze had left him and sunk to the floor in embarrassment. She was from Idaria, in the east, and the lords of Teluria despised her for it, and took extra pleasure at her humiliation. It was in popular taste to do so.

Ben was trying to sort out the last ten minutes. Barion had summoned him to the throne room and informed him that Lord Paxter of Talonfell had met a most gruesome death. “Blood in the water, blood on the trees, Ben! The poor man’s daughters found pieces of him first before they could even find enough to tell it was him. Lord Rascon wrote that it may be wolves–wolves so far south? We’ve seen war Ben, but this…it’s not something a human could do to a man. Pulled apart, Rascon writes…” Barion was easily worked up. “It’s your home lands, Ben,” Barion had reminded him. Ben had asked if the king wanted him to travel there and investigate the murder, knowing how he’d been helpful in certain puzzles before. Lord Paxton’s murder *was* somewhat troubling, beyond it’s horrific execution, to those few who knew how instrumental he had been in Barion’s rise to the throne. Talonfell had been meant as a pleasant seat for the old man to rule until greater lands were sorted out for him, and it had served a double purpose of giving Barion a trusted eye in the southwestern realms of his kingdom.

“No, Ben. I mean to make you the Castellan of Talonfell,” the king had bellowed. “I need man I can trust in that backwater of my kingdom. A sharp man. A man who conducts himself well and keeps things in order. Lord Rascon recommends Sir Lince–married to his second daughter–or one of his sons. Ha! I need my own men in my kingdom!” Barion had said, either not realizing not caring that two Lord Rascon’s three sons were standing there in the great hall among the other lord and knights. It had struck Ben dumb. Barion had already given him gold and men and a dozen other gifts and riches from the war, and promised him titles, but to actually receive Talonfell seemed as remarkable to Ben as Barion tossing him up onto a moon to rule there. Ben had thanked him as I searched for words, then pledged again duty and loyalty and service and love the the utmost of his ability till his death.

Then he’d been promptly struck dumb again by Barion bringing out the girl.

“My gods, Ben, no need to look so sanctimonious. I only offered her as a house slave. No need to offend your honor. Though, if you have no plans to properly use her, perhaps I or some of my lords shall before your departure…” Barion, said, already seeming to regret his decision now that he was looking on the girl’s gorgeous form. It was all Ben had been able to think of for several moments, too. Her eyes were nearly amber, and her hair a deep brown and somewhat curled, cut short to fall a little above her shoulders. She had full lips and lovely features, and her body was lithe, but soft and full everywhere it should be. Her stomach was flat and smooth and soft. Her legs long and lissome, with plump, jiggly thighs and a wide, plump, jiggly bottom. Her pert breasts were ample enough to rise up pleasantly over the arm covering her nipples. Her feet and hands were dainty and perfect. Yet, for all this, the justified rage and revulsion in her eyes made his stomach turn and his body as unfeeling as cold stone. His first inclination was to simply refuse her, but *I’ll be damned if Byrant Trout is going to get his oily hands on her,* Ben thought, as one of the king’s most useless knights began to waddle out towards her, joking that perhaps Barion would let him use her for himself if Ben wouldn’t. Several others followed him out towards the center of the hall where the girl stood, about twenty paces before the throne.

“No.” Byrant had used to call him *“boy”*, but he didn’t do that anymore, and when Ben spoke he stopped. The others stopped too, but reluctantly. “I am most certainly going to enjoy her for myself, my king, and, if she is mine, I’d rather not have her touched.”

“Let us at least have a feel–there’s no harm in that, your grace,” Alrick, a big idiot behind Bryant grumbled out, almost whining, as him and a few others began to move towards her again, circling the girl. Ben moved up the room, sword feeling suddenly heavy at his side. *No, none of that anymore,* he told his body.

“I certainly wouldn’t expect Sir Byrant to sleep the first few nights in my room in my new castle, which you so graciously bestowed on me, my king, and it doesn’t seem that it should be any different with my slave, if you do want to bestow her on me.” Barion was amused by that, which was good. “I’ve not had a woman in quite some time, your grace, nor one ever one with so…lascivious, ample, and wonton a body. I would like to explore her myself.”

“Well I’m not sure she hasn’t already been explored, Ben,” sniggered Barion.

“All the same.”

“Why don’t you have a go at her here?” Sir Pince, next to Sir Alrick, offered.

Ben had reached the girl and stood before her, attempting to reassure her with is eyes in spite of everything else. He needed to get her out of the room before Barion changed her fate to something else on a whim. “The company of men is good for the battlefield, but Sir Byrant’s form sours my taste in the bedroom.” That made the king laugh. “She is very lovey, my king, and I thank you–your list of generosity astounds me. If you’ll excuse me, it has been a long journey–I should like to see the comfort of my rooms, and I have the strongest desire to use every hole and part of this girl. I believe I can see a sluttish nature behind her eyes that I plan to explore immediately, if you’ll allow it.”

Barion was pleased at how well his gift had seemed to go over and that won the battle; he waved his hand from the throne, laughing, “Off with you then, Ben. You’re good knight, sir.” But Ben could see the girl was going to try to make some plea, and as Barion spoke she spun around, giving Ben a lovely view of her thighs, ample bottom, and the curve of her back. He grabbed her by the upper arm and spun her back around violently before she got a word out. Her eyes looked at him in alarm and as she tried to protest he slapped her hard across the cheek with his open palm. He moved his hand to her neck and clasped it firmly, bringing her face right up against his. She was trying to gasp in breath.

“Quiet, or I’m going to squeeze the life out of you. Nod if you understand.” She nodded in desperation, he let go, and she sunk to the floor gasping. Tears were running down her face. He realized all the lords were laughing, pleased with him. “Stand up,” he said coldly. She obeyed, legs and body trembling. “Clasp your arms behind your back.” She did, standing presented to him. She was slim and gorgeous, but not petite, yet he lifted her body and it’s ample curves effortlessly over his shoulder, the rough leather of his jacket digging into her soft, tanned skin. He smacked her fat buttcheek to complete the show, then grabbed and tugged a fat handful of bottom. “My king,” he said with an appreciative nod and grin, and walked from the throne room.

“Just don’t let her cut your throat when you’re done with her!” Barion called after him, laughing. “You might want to bind her up, Ben!”

He wound through corridors and courtyards with the girl swaying on his shoulder. Fear had frozen her and he didn’t want to pause for speech or to cover her–he didn’t want word to reach Barion that he hadn’t actually enjoyed his prize. The king disliked lies of any type. It was easy to bear her weight and she was warm and trembling against her shoulder. The went up a long set of steps and down a few more corridors and reached his guest quarters, which Ben had already checked for peepholes and secret passages and found secure. *Guest quarters instead of a stable loft, how strange.* He opened the door and stepped into the short hallway at the entrance. As soon as he had the door closed he set her down and her legs almost sunk under her; he took her firmly by the arms and leaned her naked form back against the stone wall, her bottom and back pressing against it for support. She looked at him, eyes wide with terror and disgust, but he had stepped back from her and was speaking in a soft whisper as soon as she was against the wall: “It’s okay. I’m not going to lay a finger on you. You’re safe. I’m not going to fuck you, or harm you, or touch you ever again,” as he spoke he unclasped his dark cloak and held it up before her, shielding her body. “Take it,” he offered. “Cover yourself.” She hesitated and he waited, calmly. She took it and wrapped it around her body, seeming to expect him to attack her at any moment. He stepped back to the other side of the hallway.

“I understand if you can’t forgive me for that blow. Or…everything else I did in the throne room. It was poorly done.”

She looked at him for several more moments, heart still racing in fear, but then said, “Thank you.” Tears were still running down her cheeks. He offered her a cloth once she was wrapped in his cloak and she took it and wiped her face and nose.

“Come,” he said and turned his back to her to walk into the main room. His quarters were a bedroom and a sitting chamber with a table at the center and some food in cabinets along the wall. It was more than Ben had ever had to call his own. She was more than Ben had ever had to call his own. He took a pear from a basket of fruit at the table and sat, gesturing for her to sit across from him. She did, keeping the cloak clasped about her. He wanted to put the girl at ease somehow, but decided to wait and let her speak first. It seemed all the strength had gone out of her body from the ordeal she’d just been through and who knows what before. She was nearly trembling just trying to sit in the chair. “Take a piece of fruit,” he finally offered. She hesitated and took an apple from the basket but only set it before her without eating. He studied her for a few more moments. Something in how she held herself made him think she truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Finally he resolved on a different tactic. “You may ask me anything you want.”

She was quiet for a few more moments then blurted out, “You don’t like women, my lord?” The question was both hopeful and incredulous.

“Just not terrified ones,” he said. She looked completely unconvinced so he tried to construct something better. “I have enough gold to buy any whore in Tier–or many at once–and I have no desire to attack a repulsed slave girl.”

“You are one of the king’s lords?”

“I am a hedge knight who has been given new titles after the wars.”

“What will happen to me?”

“Do you have a home?”

“I’m from a small city on the coast of Idaria. Everyone I knew there is dead.”

He didn’t trust her nearly enough to offer her freedom–if she for some reason told Barion or let word get back to him it would be a slight to him and hurt Ben’s standing; the king didn’t like his gifts scorned. “I’ve been made the castellian of a small castle and estate, called Talonfell, in Ibilin–near the lands where I grew up. For now, you will come with me there and serve in my household in a position you find suitable–maybe in the kitchens or as a maid. There will be no Sir Bryant or Sir Pince, and if anyone bothers you, you may come to me and they will not bother you anymore.”

The girl was still looking at him as if this was all some long and perverse prelude to his sexual fantasies–some strange fetish that compelled him to act like a proper knight before attacking her. But she did take a bite of the apple. He stepped up, cut them both bread and cheese, and brought it to the table, then poured wine from a jug and brought that, along with a jug of water. He undid his sword belt and set it carefully on the other side of the room, dagger and longsword out of her reach.

“I’m not going to try that,” she said. “I’m not very good with swords.”

“I am a very cautious man. What is your name?”

“Aurelia, or Aura, usually.”

“That’s a nice name. You’ll have to call me Lord Plinth, when anyone else is around, but if we’re in private I would prefer you call me Ben.” He wanted to ask her a thousand different questions; if they had hurt her before the throne room, what had happened to her across the years since her city burned, all her secret dreams and wants. But it didn’t seem right, so he let her eat in peace. That night the girl slept in the main room on animal skins, under his cloak. Ben had a feeling that offering her his bed and himself the floor would only make her uncomfortable. He lay awake for hours into the night.

**TWO**

A little after midnight he tugged on a robe and slippers, grabbed a bag of gold, and stalked out of the palace and into the capital. He wandered for a while, a flaneur in the torch-lit city night. Revelry was all around him. He gazed out at the dark ocean for a while along the docks, but eventually turned back inwards and ended up at a plain black door in the eastern center of the city. A slot slid opened and Ben didn’t know the procedure so he shook his gold bag. The door opened and he was greeted by an enormous, pale fat man–well over six feet tall and body wrapped in muscle beneath the lard. Ben showed him the gold and the man led him down a dark corridor. They went through another door and a curtain and were suddenly bathed in light–moon streamed in through a large aperture in the ceiling and candles and fires flickered. Naked and scantily clad women lounged everywhere. The room was covered in pillows, carpets, and couches and was all burgandy and gold and mahogany. A bar ran along one wall with exotic colored bottles behind it and a crisply dressed man serving drinks. In one corner were a lyre player and a flutist. A lovely pale woman with dark crimson hair down to her breasts rose up from a game of tau-volere on the other side of the room and stepped to them with hypnotic, swaying hips. She wore a midnight black dress–ornately done up, with gold accents–that had long sleeves and a collar up to her neck, but only that only came down to just below her bottom, where black stockings continued down her legs to black heels. Her eyes were green, her features haughty and almost regal. She had large breasts, wide hips, and an enormous bottom and set of thighs, from what he could see of her through her dress. She wore a choker with a ruby jewel in it around her neck. She looked about thirty five, and was about his height in her heels.

“I don’t know you,” she said to him disdainfully. “And it is dangerous for a boy walk around these parts in the night, unarmed.”

“The king says you’re the best brothel in town.”

“Ah, another friend of the king–I have met many even just tonight.”

Ben grinned, “The king is a well loved and generous man. It makes sense he would have many friends. But I’m one of the ones who he gives gold to beforehand.”

She looked into his bag and smiled too, then waved the man back down his corridor with a shift of her eyes. Barion actually was where Ben got his brothel recommendations from. He loved talking about whores and escapades. Ben wouldn’t have known where to go otherwise. He had never had money for prostitutes, or money for anything until recently. And when he was first made a knight he took all the vows very seriously. The wars had changed that, along with many other things.

The woman led him to another room and brought out girls–ten of them–with different colors of hair and skin but all lovely and supple. None of them looked hardly over twenty. Ben took some enjoyment in getting to wander among them and stare freely, without thought of propriety or having his glance caught by them. “You can easily afford all of them, should you not want to choose,” the madame proposed. He sat back on the room’s couch.

“You shall have the whole bag of gold, for a night with you,” he didn’t take his eyes off her, relishing any reaction. She only betrayed the slightest surprise, a twitch at the edge of her mouth that was perhaps a grin.

“You are a poor bargainer, Sir.”

“I know what’s worth paying for.”

“I am not available to customers. But any one of my girls, I assure you, could make you most satisfied.”

“Perhaps if I had not seen you first. But that’s fine. If you are not available to me I’ll tip your girls for their lovely presentation and then I’ll go.”

“I would be sorry to lose the king’s own friend. Is there no other service we may provide?” *A good saleswoman. She doesn’t want to lose my gold.*

“You’re not available to customers. Do you like to gamble?”

“That depends.”

“I will pay this bag of gold for a game of tau-volere with you. If you win…well, you already have the gold. If you lose, I get you for the night.”

She smiled at that and paused for a moment. “If you throw a tantrum at your loss I will gladly have you thrown out.”

“I won’t, I promise. But I am a master of this game. You should understand that you are very likely going to lose. Will you find it palatable to be in my possession if you do? I have no stomach for unwilling women.”

She smiled confidently but said, “If you manage to beat me I’ll gladly give myself to you.”

She waved the girls away and they returned to the tau-volere board in the main room. She waved away the girl she’d been playing and reset the board. As they moved a crowd slowly gathered around them, seemingly glad for something aside from sex for entertainment. Ben calmly destroyed her. Her eyes were slightly wide and her face flushed. Her mouth with it’s gorgeous plump lips had fallen slightly agape, forming a cute “O” that almost made her look girlish. It had been a delight to play her. An excited whisper rippled through the little crowd as they realized Ben’s victory. Even the musicians and barkeep had come to watch. He saw embarrassment run through her and she swallowed. “You are the best I have ever played,” he said, for her sake and the sake of the crowd’s opinion of her, though he meant it, too–she was at least one of the five top players he’d ever faced. “I’ll offer you two more games, if you want them.”

“And what will that cost me?” she said.

“You must do absolutely anything I say tonight; though I will do no harm to you, nor ask you to tell me you love me.”

She considered that a moment, then nodded. “Very well.”

He destroyed her twice again and she blushed deeply now and glanced down a moment. The people whispered and their was even a laugh from one of the customers who Ben glanced at with distaste before returning her gaze to the woman, studying her carefully. But when she brought her eyes back up to meet him the subtlest smile played across her lips, through the embarrassment. “You are very good at volere. Do you often walk the night, disguised in your fool’s robe and slippers, beguiling innocent women?”

“It was a plan only in desperation for you. Sometimes one just doesn’t feel like wearing armor anymore.”

She spread her arms, palms out in supplication. “I am yours, what will you have of me?”

“A drink,” The musicians returned to play in their corner and he took her hand and led her to the bar. She waved to another, dark haired woman to take her place on the couch and run the room in her absence. He fished a few smaller coins from his robe pocket and handed them to the barkeep. “Frissian ice water for me, and Abyssinian nectar for her. And kashish pipe weed.” His drink was clear, her’s green. She smiled at the choice.

“You know intoxication, for a young man.” He was only copying Barion again, memories of soberly guarding him on intoxicated nights out in sometimes newly conquered cities–carefully watching barkeeps and drinks, making sure someone always took a sip before the king, and no one came up to stab him in the back.

“I suppose,” he said nonchalantly, as if of course he knew these things. They drank and talked and smoked until they were both a pleasantly floating. He luxuriated in unloading war stories onto her faux-concerned eyes, and asked her questions and laughed at absurd stories she had from running a brothel, one of the ultimate repositories of men’s secrets and embarrassments. Eventually he said, “Stand up and take your dress off.”

She was embarrassed at that, but stood and slowly peeled off the black dress. It was ornate and intricately fitted onto her, though it only came down to just past her bottom. She removed the shoulders of it first, then peeled it down. Her gorgeous titties spilled out, and she hopped almost cutely to get it over her fat bottom, which made her thighs and booty and breasts jiggle lasciviously. She bent gracefully at the waist to slide it down, then stepped out of it. She stood and dropped the dress on the floor. She was left only in small black panties, garter belt, black stockings, and her heels. Ben stepped up to her, cupped her face in his hand, pressed the other to her lower back, and kissed her gently, then pulled away. She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and opened her mouth to him, ignoring the gentle jeers, jests, laughs, and murmurs of the room. He kissed her again, longer, his tongue diving into her wet, warm mouth and exploring her, their lips sucking on each other, her tongue pressing back and playing with his. She pointed him towards her room and he lifted her effortlessly by her waist and placed her over his shoulder, than gave her a sound spank on her fat, pale bottom, leaving a red handmark. She let out a surprised, adorable squeal before trying to regain her composure, her naked body wriggling on his back.

He carried her to her room, slipped off his shoes outside, kicked the door shut behind them, and carefully set her down on her feet. The room was moderately sized and dressed in the same rich colors as the main area. It smelled of incense and spices and the ocean breeze. He pressed her against the door and put his hand gently around her throat, kissing her again and then pulling away.

“I want you to not make a sound or single movement of pleasure unless you absolutely need to, and can’t help yourself. I know your girls have to please talentless oafs–and maybe I’ll be unable to please you. But I have no desire for you to trick me. You could perhaps do it but then again perhaps I’ll notice–and then I’m going to grab that gold, and throw a fit, and storm out of here no matter how many men you set before me or how beautiful you are. If you feel no pleasure and make no act, you still get the same amount of gold, I swear it; there’s no need to lie to me–and I leave most likely forever tomorrow morning anyway. I won’t be your repeat customer. And I’ll be in the right, too, if I storm out. Because If you betray your pleasure with an act you’ll be breaking our deal–you’re to do whatever I tell you, and I tell you not to lie. Do you understand?”

“I understand. I won’t act,” she smiled a little but spoke genuinely. “You’re very dramatic.”

“I just hate bad actors,” he said, and lifted her into his arms and kissed her, then carefully draped her down onto the plush, enormous bed. He lay on top of her and kissed her passionately. His cock was already throbbing and her curvaceous body felt incredible writhing beneath him. He eventually pulled away again and walked to a chair across the room. “Crawl onto my lap,” he command her, and she slinked off the bed and did it, back arched and bottom swaying. Her soft stomach pressed into his hard thighs. “Put your arms behind your back and lift your legs up. She did, her supple body contorting easily. He spanked her twenty times, having her count out each one and beg for more, until her bottom was red and her body was trembling and sweaty. After each spank he rubbed it into her fat bottom, massaging her ass in a circle, spreading out the sting till it turned to pleasure, and little moans began to escape her as they continued, though she was gasping and trying to bite them back. When he was half way through the spanking he tugged her panties impatiently off, spread her cheeks, and spanked and rubbed her naked, smooth anus several times before moving back to her cheeks. That made her squeal and gasp and then, to his delight, giggle. He finished with her bottom and told her to get on the floor, suddenly urgently wanting to fuck her. She slipped off his lap and crawled to the center of the room on fur rugs. She lay on her back, her legs spread, leaning on her elbows, her gorgeous pale body exposed to him.

He removed his robe and draped it across the chair and he heard a barely audible gasp escape her lips. He turned to her and her eyes were wide with surprise and alarm that her gasp had angered him. “It’s okay,” he said. His body was covered in several scars, some deep and some shallow, and a burn that went over his right chest, shoulder, and onto his back. The old wounds were all different shapes and sizes, and they were covered by a fresh layer of bruises and scrapes that were just now still healing from the war and his own consistent training. “It is the property of a knight.”

“I’ve seen men’s scars before,” she said. “I just thought you were a lordling’s boy. I didn’t expect…”

“Are you bothered by them?”

“No,” she said with conviction, meeting his gaze.

He walked to her slowly and sunk to his knees, then pulled off her heels and tossed them to the side. He reached up and worked a hand beneath her back, unclipped the garter belt and tossed it aside, then peeled her stockings down her fat, sweaty thighs and all the way off. Her breath was coming a little more rapidly, her chest heaving a little. He gently lifted her left foot and kissed her sole, then massaged it and took her toes into his mouth, sucking and licking them. He ran his tongue and lips up and down her sole, then the rest of her foot, sucking and kissing every inch of it. It made her shudder and gasp and take deep, shaking breaths. He moved to her right foot and did the same, then brought them both up and ran his tongue back and forth. She lay back, her back arched, palms pressed to the floor, fighting to not writhe in pleasure.

He spread her legs wide apart again and pressed them up so her knees were up at level with her head. “Guide me in how to pleasure you–tell me what to use and where to go.” He wrapped his mouth around her warm, wet cunt and began to lick and suck and slurp at her with his warm, rough tongue and firm lips. He ran his tongue down her taint and licked and sucked her naked anus, burying his tongue in her then moving back to her cunt and licking deeply into her soft, swollen folds. She was still trying to fight back her moans but they were escaping her now, frequently. In between she was taking deep, labored breaths that made her chest heave and naked titties jiggle. She guided him to how best pleasure whatever area he chose to go to, and what to use. Her hips began to buck up and he placed his hands around them to give her something to press against. When it seemed she was about to cum he pulled away from her and she let out a sweet whimper.

He moved up to her side and gently placed his right hand over her pussy and began to massage her ever so slowly and gently. He kissed her and she kissed him back deeply. He wrapped his other arm around her, under her back, and she instinctively clung to him, tighty, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting herself be held close to him as he masturbated her naked body. Her back arched and relaxed, body writhed and bucked as he worked her to the edge of her orgasm with her directions, then backed off again, all as they passionately made out. He occasionally dipped his head down, sucking her neck, ears, nipples, and gorgeous breasts. Finally he pulled away and lay his hand on her stomach, letting her calm herself for a moment. He considered the thought that had occurred to him, for a moment, then reluctantly said, “I’ll make you a final offer. For the price of that gold I payed you, you can buy your night back from me, and we’ll go no further.”

She looked at him, drunk, aroused, and for a moment confused. She thought, considering him with her green eyes, then she traced her fingers over one of the deeper scars he had on his chest. She pressed her lips to it and kissed it. “I want to keep my gold,” she said.

“You’re going to get fucked for it,” he said as he kissed her again.

“Yes,” she said. And then, with certainty as he moved between her ample thighs, “Yes, yes, yes…” His large, throbbing, rock-hard cock sunk into her warm, wet, tight cunt, and she let out a grateful sigh of pleasure. He lay over her and pressed her arms over her head with his own. It felt incredible being pressed against her warm body. He gyrated his hips, slowly moving in and out of her, letting her grind her cunt against his pelvis as he bottomed out at each stroke. He kissed her, sucked her nipples hard, licked and sucked her naked, smooth armpits, and then returned to her ready mouth. She was moaning and gasping openly now, unable to resist, and letting out cute little desperate whimpers, like a naive, nubile girl.

His began to piston his cock in and out of her faster. She wrapped her sweaty thighs around him passionately and moaned, “Oh fuck…I’m going to explode.” He kissed her hard and pounded her and she gasped and her body tensed hard underneath him, then bucked and writhed, twisting and shaking and trembling as she moaned lewdly. She came on his cock, hard. As it peaked she pulled away under him and he stopped, leaving his cock in her for her cunt to clench around but not pounding it. She took in gasping, shuddering breaths and he slowly pulled out of her and moved off of her to her side on the rugs. He held her close and she clung to him, gasping in air, titties pressed against his own heaving chest, their sweaty bodies pressed as close together as possible. “Thank you for being gentle…oh fuck…” she moaned sweetly.

They lay intertwined for several minutes, then she reached down and began to masturbate his cock back to throbbing hardness. He stood up and said, “Crawl after me.” He led her with a hand in her hair and she crawled willingly, butt jiggling on display. He stepped through the only other door in her room and found what he expected: a washroom with a bronze tub and various toiletries. Took down a bronze can with a long, slim spout and filled it with water, then sunk it into her bottom and filled her up. He told her to expel into the toilet. He gave her two more and she blushed cutely the whole time, body still trembling from orgasm. He filled her up with a fourth and told her to hold it. She was on her knees, her head on the floor, and he sucked her anus again, covering it in saliva, then sunk a finger into her began working her tight sphincter.

“Do you like this?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, earnestly.

He sunk another finger in, then another. She tried to keep clenched around them but water occasionally trickled or squirted out.

“What does it feel like?”

“So much pressure on my stomach–I feel so full. Impregnated in my butt. It makes me feel like a slut liking it.”

He worked he for nearly twenty minutes, stretching and finger-pounding her butt until he thought she might be loose enough. When he sat down on the toilet himself she sucked his cock eagerly and earnestly, wetting it for her anus, then he lifted her, facing away from him, and let her sink down on his pole. She gasped and moaned in surprise at how girthy it was, how much it stretched her. He hooked two of his fingers into her pussy, already plump and aroused again, and began to work them in and out, sliding them over her aroused button as he went. More and more of the liquid spilled out of her pleasurably as he bounced her up and down on his cock. They were both drenched in sweat again. She pushed the last of the water out with a pleasurable gush, straining against his cock. “It’s happening again,” she whimpered, and he felt her anus clench and spasm on his hard cock. It pushed him over the edge and he exploded in her whorish bottom as it slapped wetly against his thighs, up and down. “You’re making me cum from my ass!” she whined in sweet surprise. She twisted back towards him and he pressed his mouth to hers as he fucked her through their orgasms, filling her slutty hole with thick cum. She collapsed against him and they held each other, gasping for air.

He fucked her two more times that night, before they were exhausted, and then they both sunk into her tub, washed, and relaxed, her wet, soapy body sliding over his and sitting on his lap in the water. They lay and let time drift by. “Do you want anything else of me, Sir Knight?” she said.

“I think I’d like to sleep,” he said earnestly, and after a brief snack of bread and cheese, she led him to her untouched bed and drew him into it.

He woke late the next morning and when he went to go she took his hand and drew him to a table in the now empty main room. She brought him eggs and heated bread and juice and coffee and they sat eating breakfast together. “You are decent, in your heart,” she said. “If you ever need something more dire than a woman’s body, you may come here,” and she leaned across the table, and in old Telurian whispered three words in his ear.

**THREE**

The city seemed half asleep even though it was mid-morning, and the few that were up seemed to be up from the night before. The last three weeks had been strange after the discipline and rigor of war. He managed to wander across a whole brigade of his men, also coming home from late revelry. When they saw him in his robe and slippers wandering the streets, still smelling slightly of alcohol–not that they could smell it over their own stench–they all cheered in delight at their stern little commander having a night out in the city. He waved his hand at them yet grinned, too. They were their to make trouble for him because they were the ones who had lived, and he was happy they were alive. He was happy at every one of them who had made it out of the nightmare they had gone through. *If it amuses them, once, it’s a small price for whatever trouble I’ll have disciplining them later.* He handed over the last of his coins for them to have breakfast on him and carried on to the castle.

“Bartholomew Plinth, Lord of Talonfell,” he said, when the guards disdainfully asked who he thought he was to enter the castle grounds. Luckily one of them recognized him. They even congratulated him on his new title.

He stepped into his rooms and gazed on Aura’s gorgeous, warm, naked form, half slipped out from under the cloak. Her thighs and stomach and breasts seeming to almost glow–incredibly soft and supple and lovely; her chest gently rose and fell with each perfect breath and her face was at peace. *I could be gentle with her,* I thought. *If I commanded her too she would probably still think me generous for not being brutal. She would probably consider it my right, even if she didn’t like it, as would everyone else. I could dress her in whatever I want. Do whatever I want to her.* But he would know. And she would still hate it. Thinking about it turned the pleasant fantasies slimey and he quickly looked away and clattered a plate around on the counter until he heard her stir and cover herself.

There had been revelry for three weeks after the end of the war, and even Ben had enjoyed it, celebrating with many of his men, glad they were alive. But he was worried about leaving his new estate without a lord for too long, especially since he had such little experience in rule. He wasn’t even quite sure who was in charge there at the moment. *I might not be able to set it aright if I find it already in disrepair.* He liked to arrive at things early.

Early that afternoon they rode out of the city. The celebrations were still going on, and he would not deny his soldiers any of their hard won happiness, so he left them with a command to follow him at the end of the next month. He didn’t particularly need them back here in Teluria, at least not at the moment; in fact it had been a gift he had had to beg of Barion to allow him to offer them a home at his estate; many of them were rough men without homes or lords before the war. He left his trunks and riches from the war in the charge of his squire Corry, to be taken by slow wagons after him when Corry and the rest were ready to depart.

He had also walked through Tier with Aura and bought her an expensive, lilac riding dress, because she was beautiful. *It’s rather pleasing buying things for beautiful girls. I’ll have to watch that now that I have gold.* He bought her a yellow-gold cloak, too, various pieces of clothing, supple brown leather riding boots, and a white horse. Barion would’ve given him a royal house but he was wary of asking Barion for anything more. Everything they carried was in a few saddlebags. Ben rode his midnight black charger from the war and wore all brown leathers and his black cloak, with his bow slung over his back and a burnished steel shield hung from the side of his horse.

The crowds slowly dwindled as they traveled the King’s road away from the spirals of Tier and the shimmering ocean beyond it. “Like Gallien and Opar leaving the Sundirian mines,” the girl offered.

“You’ve read the *Aumerilian Chronicles*?” Ben almost squealed, delighted. *No, of course not you idiot. Someone told her the story.*

“Yes,” she said almost shyly at his excitement.

“You know ancient Telurian?”

“Yes, enough to read.”

“Can you read the common tongue, too?”

“Yes.”

“I think I’d prefer the Sundirian mines to that city, sometimes,” Ben said, and she liked that enough to smile. The girl was astoundingly well read for someone in her place in life, and book after book provided easy, lovely, uncomplicated conversation for them as they road. They both loved epics and mystic tales. They traveled through forests and farmland for several days conversing like that, and at night as they lay on their backs under the starlight Ben guided her through all the astronomy he knew–pointing out stars and planets and moons and the patterns of how they moved and swirled like jewels in the inky night sky.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/7dyt7t/the_knights_slave_girl_mf_anal_fantasy