In the low glow of the night, a walled city stood against the purple sky. Before they shut their gates, a few stragglers slipped in, and Veronica Kalm was amongst them. She held on to the shawl over her person and kept her head down. Being wanted across the land would keep you like that. The dried dirt of the city ground was padded down and a welcome embrace from the roughness of the wild. Voices of the soul echoed off the plentiful stone buildings, and amongst the people who thronged from tavern to pub to home, the young woman went by unnoticed.
A gloved hand pushed open the door to a random tavern, one chosen for the noise heard from the outside. Chaos was rampant within. She errant ducked under an axe that flew and splintered the wooden door. A few more were lodged in the walls. The thrower, stumbling and aiming another, was down the entire mead hall from the target, a bellowing fat man who had naught but a pear balanced on his bellowing fat head. The bar had no space and the tables didn’t either. Only by wedging her way in, did anyone get a look at Veronica’s face.
“Heh. What’ll it be, lass?” The bartender said, eyeing her with one good eye and another glass eye painted with some sort of crest on it. No points for trying realism here.
“Hot mead and a hot bath.” Veronica said over the crowd, her voice lost over five feet.
“Heh,” the bartender cacked gruffly again, “hot mead right ‘ere, basement downstairs in five.” He put down a clacking wooden mug and she put down a clinking gold piece. He thought she was a lunatic for wanting the luxuries of life and she thought he was a nasty old man who kept his faculties in a basement. Not but three feet away did another man turn to look at her from the bar. Veronica took a drink of the foul alcohol and watched him from over the rim.
“Girl in a house, huh?” He said. Drunk. What kind of line was that?
“Man at a bar, huh?” She answered, after lowering the mug. They had to shout at each other. Veronica Kalm had half a mind to wave her fingers in front of her face like he couldn’t even recognize her properly.
“What’r you doing here? I’m drunkern’ shit.” He said. Despite the flushed cheeks and ungainly way he kept standing, the man was strong looking, like knights she had seen in the kingdom. Dark hair and darker eyes.
“I’m standing here, sober as shit.” Veronica yelled back.
“I’m somethin’.” He held out his hand like a man for her to shake. His eyes rolled down with the attenativeness of a drunk man, as her hands were still in plated metal gloves. Blending in with the cover of her tabby shawl, Veronica was still armored for battle on the fields. It was hard to tell until now, it seems, and the man shook her metal hand with a more aware sense about him. “What *are* you doing here?” He repeated.
“Drinking, what does it look like?” She said, wondering if five minutes had passed. She hadn’t had enough yet to not know better. Veronica took another drink.
“Planning to cut someone?” The man asked. He sauntered up closer so they didn’t have to shout. Behind them the crowd roared as the man throwing the axes hit the pear and the target’s skull all in one throw.
“Not unless someone cuts me first.” She said in typical badass manner. Her manners had been left far behind, and politeness would have been lost on this man anyway.
He seemed to think about her answer like he somehow had some drunk, preconceived notion to cut her. “I’ll cut ya.” He said, and she agreed by clinking their wooden cups together.
After six or seven more slick meads, the man was following Veronica, step by careful step, down into the basement, where six doors were shuttered and one was left open. The bath within was some strange contraption that kept the water moving out of the tub and into some black metal pot over hot coals, only to pour back again. Most of it was sunken into the basement stone floor like a lake, or a pond.
The mechanery wasn’t really the concern of the man and the knight errant, as she pulled the cloak off and revealed her well worn, still gleaming armor.
“Man, tha’ss somethin’, I say,” the man said, eyes wide yet droopy at the same time. “What’r you, a soldier-girl?” He said, holding her tattered cover in one hand.
“Maybe I am and maybe,” Veronica said, pausing drunkenly, “maybe I isn’t.” She managed to get the plate sabatons off her feet and sink the exposed skin into the water. Under the hood she was pretty but beaten, with a few red sweltered scars on her face and lips. Her wheat-blonde hair was cut menacingly short. The guy didn’t seem to care, probably too late to balk.
“Come on, get this fuckin’ arhhmer offa me.” She said, stabalizing herself on the rim so she didn’t fall off. Her back to him, where the plate straps were nestled on the shoulders, the man penitently undid the leather straps and pulled the back-plate off. She tossed it aside and started undoing the arms. The wild man, having cracked the safe and did not need the arms, sunk his hands onto her shirt and pawed at her breasts with abandon.
Veronica breathed out, almost laughing, as she had only her right arm free. “C’mon mate.” The metal hit the stone floor and the man was lost in a trance, starting to squeeze and pull in an uncoordinated massage of her chest. She couldn’t say it felt horrible. Free of her other arm, and the most of her armor, Veronica Kalm calmly laid into him, as he seemed satisfied to grope her.
“Iss not mate, lass, it’s Alfred.” He said, lowly. Didn’t seem concerned with her name. His hands were speaking now. Veronica had high and tight breasts, but enough to fill a woman’s blouse, and he still seemed satisfied as he pulled the front of her’s apart. The warm air from the bath was welcome on her already sweating skin. Alfred sunk in and kissed her neck from the back, with the same headstrong dive in which he started on her. His face bristled with the stubble of a soldier on break.
Veronica’s heart skipped some as she could feel, him, on the small of her back. He pushed her forward, as if he could read her mind, and pressed his hips into her butt as she went hands and torso first into the tub. Splashing in behind her, Alfred was ripping his pants off hastily.
“Now, you’re gonna do me right, right?” She asked fruitlessly, and he didn’t answer. Prize was hanging from the tree, and original sin was about to be born. Veronica realized she was a bit of a sight, blouse hanging open and under-armor trousers on still, half darkened with the soak of water. Alfred wasted no time pulling them down across her back end, and pulled his person back up behind her.
The water sloshing with his knees, she took in a breath quietly to herself while he brought his manhood between her legs. Veronica found herself wet and suddenly clear of head against the uncoordinated drunken haze. *Put it in, put it in me.* A quick thought passed as he rubbed the head against her slit and then found his way inside. Goodness gracious, it had been a long time on the road as she let out a groan and took him.
His cock was a big one to behold, and Veronica held the sides of the tub to keep herself above water as he slid back and pushed in her again. They started to fuck like she was ready for, and it wasn’t long before pleasure had the woman moaning and groaning for more. Alfred grabbed her hips, keeping their love above water, and pounded her pussy with joy and revelry.
“Fuck, fuck yeah, aye this is good.” He finally said, with a youthful and rich air that made Veronica only want to get fucked by him more.
She was happy as his cock seemed to swell inside her, growing as hard as a nice stone, the water swaying back and forth as they pushed against each other. His hips slapped her buttocks and his balls sunk and dragged the water with each wet and sonorous slap. The girl couldn’t help herself but to cry out each time he reached full.
Her arms tired, so she reached back and pushed him back some. Alfred knew, their hearts racing together, and pulled his mighty cock out from her, inch by inch. She twisted herself around once she was free, and sat up on the rim of the tub. The pretty young woman spread her thighs, looking the hungry man up and down. His cock bobbed with heavy joy, pointed right at her face as he knelt down and brought his torso on with hers.
Veronica wrapped his arms around his shoulders as he lined up again and quickly made his cocks’ way inside her. Every building inch of stone returned and slid with glistening ease. *Getting fucked is a real joy,* she thought with drunk bliss, as Alfred pushed his muscle solid thighs and hips back up to hers eagerly. The back and forth rhythm returned, while she kissed his neck and shoulders. The man could only grunt and breathe, back and forth, as a rich pleasure built up in her.
She knew it was coming and reached down to grab his firm asscheek, encouraging him to pound her harder and faster. Faster and heavier. *Beat me.* she needed his dick. He grunted and groaned, and Veronica could feel him pulsing inside her. “Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck me!” She cried out, encouraging him in the final moment. What was once five minutes turned into a hot instant as she came on his beating cock, the wet smacking overpowering the sound of the sloshing bath.
The sweet sensation made her as slick as hot ice and Alfred buried himself deep inside her and held it there, and she could feel him pulsing and spraying her with his seed.
Just as their ecstasy steamed the bath, the wooden door slammed open and a quick shiver erupted in her body like being splashed with cold water.
“VVVERONICA!” A nasty, familiar voice pierced the sacred silence like the voice of God to punish the sinners.
“*Oh, fuck,*” Veronica whispered as Alfred swiftly pulled out and spun around. As he moved, it only served to reveal what she had dreaded. Standing in the doorway was a woman with long, black hair, dressed in red garments and golden chains.
“Fancy a bartender seeing *you* here!” The woman said, her nasty smile curling on both ends from the unfortunate wound on her face. “And in such disarray!”
Six, seven armed guards poured between her shoulders and in the room. The lovers froze at pike-point and suddenly the drunken haze was thrown out like ice water in the winter.
“Plan to come back to Fort Harrow with me? No? Good.” The woman said, and the guards forced the both of them up. She turned to leave and just as Veronica got enough sense to break her silence, she got hit on the back of the head and her bathhouse orgasm was totally ruined.
– To be continued. –
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/by2vje/knights_vengeance_i_mf_fantasy
Wow! That was great! Looking forward to more.