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I almost left her for the dragon.

Being a knight on quest can be a pain in the ass sometimes. All I wanted
was a peaceful day's ride to the next castle where I could wash my
underwear and eat a meal I hadn't cooked myself. It had been eight days since
my last hospitality, eight days of guessing riddles with trolls, jousting
with truculent knights and fending off the advances of the forest witches
at night.

Now, when I was dead tired, I had to come across a naked maiden tied to a
dragon stake. And a rather succulent maiden too, I must note, with
delightfully rounded thighs, wide hips and exquisite full breasts tipped
with pink. These last were rigidly erect with her fear, and made altogether
a most enticing picture.

My king has chosen to dub me "Sir Englebert the Ungainly, knight of the
always couched lance." I suppose he thinks that's funny. Kings tend to
strange sorts of humor. There is, I must admit, a certain amount of accuracy
in the name, as I am seldom unaffected by a display of feminine pulchritude.

Obviously the girl was some village's offering to one of the great beasts
to spare their homes from destruction. If the dragon ate her, he could not
then in good conscience attack the village. It was a sensible thing for the
village to do, and I very nearly rode on by.

Then the maiden turned in her bonds, wriggling her nude body, and I was
entranced. The traditional posture at the stake, wrists tied overhead, does
tend to emphasize female beauty. Do you suppose dragons care what the wench
looks like? Or did some dirty old man decide how to present the sacrifices?

What the Hell? Noblesse Oblige, and all that. With a sigh, I tethered my
destrier and began to climb into my armor. A dragon is no mean foe, and
thorough preparation is vital to survival is one is forced to fight them.

Fully accoutered, I approached the maiden and inquired formally, as the
rules require, whether she wished a champion? Equally formally, she offered
me her slavery if I would release her from the dragon's clutches. All well
and good, and strictly by the book. I suupose it was not unreasonable of her
to prefer a year of slavery to being eaten.

The problem was that I didn't really need a slave girl at the moment. Oh,
they certainly have their advantages in the proper time and place, but on
quest is NOT one of those times. I mean, give me a break! I was kind of busy
here. Slave girls require constant protection and attention. And of course,
they must be attended to sexually with great frequency if a knight is to
maintain any reputation at all among his peers. Some rather nasty rumors have
been bandied about when a knight has not been willing to display his stamina
and prowess several times a day with such a slave girl as this.

The rules of the game were strict. I could not simply release her, as this
would bring the wrath of the dragon on her village. If I wished her to
survive, I must force her new owner to relinquish his rights. And then,
having acquired her, I could not simply send her home. She would be my
responsibility and property for a year and a day, after which I could dispose
of her as I chose, but not until.

I could, of course, place conditions on her salvation; that was within the
rules. I told her that I labored under a curse; that I could not enjoy a
woman who was well and recently spanked. And of course, since her slavery
would imply frequent use, I feared that her life must be purchased at
considerable cost to her shapely rump.

This was a deception, but plausible. It was a common enough curse, and
everyone knew it. In any case, it gave me a graceful out. If the maiden
could not see her way clear to accepting rigorous and regular thrashings over
the next year, I could bow out with honor and continue my journey. With any
luck, she might prefer to take her chances with the dragon.

Twisting as well as she could in her bonds, the maiden presented her shapely
rump to me and offered to begin her servitude on the moment. Just my luck!
She'd probably turn out to be one of those women who enjoy a good warming of
her nether parts. Well, I'd given it my best shot. Nothing for it now but to
await the dragon and see how things turned out.

Her offer would have to wait. In the first place, I had not yet won her
servitude, and in the second place, it is quite impossible to take advantage
of a damsel while wearing armor. And I certainly wasn't going to take it
off with a dragon in the neighborhood.

As the affair turned out, I was favored by fortune. The dragon was a young
beast, not over thirty feet long, and not very experienced. Seeing me prepared
to challenge his right to the maiden, I suspect that he too would have as
soon gone elsewhere.

However, rules are rules. He seemed to shrug, an odd movement for a dragon,
and made his first pass. His fiery breath seemed weak and poorly focused,
doing little more than coating my armor with soot. Damned nuisance, that! It
would have to be cleaned almost immediately. Well, that would give the slave
girl something to do. It is ill-advised to let slave girls be idle for very
long.

As the dragon made his second pass, I lashed at him with Stonecutter. He was
a bit careless and my cut took him at the juncture of wing and torso. It was
hardly a death blow, but it elicited a roaring of anguish and some nasty
gouts of dragon blood.

Flapping awkwardly, he abandoned the fight immediately, leaving me
victorious. At least he showed good sense, feeling no obligation to die for
the sake of a meal.

The maiden was looking at me with eyes full of admiration and expectation.
Well, no rest for the weary! It was either take her now in celebration of
my victory or suffer acute loss of face. With a sigh, I placed my sword belt
aside for other use and climbed back out of my armor.

In my skivies, I cut her loose and was rewarded for my efforts with a most
lascivious embrace to which I responded. It is difficult not to result to
the embrace of a naked and shapely woman. As I have noted, there are
certainly rewards to the ownership of such a slave.

She introduced herself as Melisande. a rather high faluting name for a
village wench, and thanked me formally for her rescue, reiterating her
acceptance of the obligations of slavery to her champion. Well, there it was;
time to get at it. I sent her to fetch the belt, and she knelt on the grass
when she returned, lifting it to me like a holy relic or something.

I sighed and accepted it, told her to lower her shoulders and raise her rump,
and flexed my weary arm for one more effort.

Now, I must allow that she had a most remarkable bottom for thrashing, nicely
rounded in all dimensions and the color of rich cream. She would display some
spectacular bruises, or I missed my guess.

I had pondered numbers. Undue leniency was deplorable, of course, but there
was no need at this time for severity either. Arbitrarily, I assigned her a
dozen good licks, and began to apply the leather to her flesh.

Now this is not the primary function of a sword belt. A knight's life is often
dependent on his gear, and a sword belt is no small part of it. Accordingly,
such belts are wide and heavy, of a double thickness of cowhide and oiled to
suppleness of cloth. As it happens, these qualities serve the purpose of
chastisement admirably. With only a moderate effort of my arm, the strap burst
across Melisande's upturned rump with a loud report. As I had expected, her
skin quickly colored from white to pink, and then eventually, to a rather
spectacular red.

ENTER
TEEN STEAM

She was obviously no stranger to a good thrashing. She moaned her distress as
the heat rose in her nether cheeks, but made no attempt to evade her due.
She took it most delightfully, her buttocks squirming with agitation and
making a most magnificent picture of lewd invitation. I felt sure that I
would have no trouble fulfilling my duties. Indeed, my "lance" was couched
already and eager for the fray.

I strapped her round bottom until she quivered and begged softly for
surcease. Oh, she wasn't addressing me, of course; she understood the
nature of curses and knew that I had no choice in the matter. Instead, she
addressed her pleas to the village shaman in hopes that he might lift the
"curse." I doubt that he heard her, and in any case, he could not have
assisted her.

She was well reddened indeed when I finally dropped the belt and knelt
behind her. Eager or no, this was the least demanding procedure, and I WAS
tired. Gripping her flanks, I found and embedded myself in her moist embrace.
She began to shiver in ecstasy almost immediately.

Now that was proof positive. Most village girls will experience prompt
orgasms when topped by a knight of the realm. At the same time, I feared it
showed what I already suspected, that a sound thrashing was hardly an
unmitigated disaster for her. Certainly the well-warmed flesh of her rump
seemed no less eager to welcome my thrusting lance.

In spite of my fatigue, I managed to acquit myself very adequately. Later, she
sighed and thanked me again for rescuing her, and promised to help me
alleviate the "curse" as often as possible.

This promised to be a long year.

I made my camp in the nearby woods, too tired to ride further that day. After
a brief meal, shared with my new slave girl, I made to sleep while she set
to the task of cleaning my armor.

I awoke in pitch darkness to a most unusual sensation. I felt her lips on my
lance. She had drawn me quite erect, and was diligently attempting to allay
the "curse" at the provocation of a most mischievous forest witch. It was
probably only my fatigue that prevented me from responding to her efforts,
and thus casting doubt on the nature of the curse.

Well, she would have to learn, and now was as good a time as any to begin. I
pushed her aside, which caused the witch to flee, cackling, back into the
forest. Rising, I remonstrated with the girl for her impertinence,
cautioning her that the advice and counsel of such as a forest witch was
almost certain to cause her grief. By way of emphasizing my point, I stepped
to a sapling and cut myself a stout switch. Melisande watched, wide-eyed, as
I trimmed it, leaving many of the small buds and twigs in place.

I required her to stand, tied her wrists together and hung them neatly from an
overhead bough. Her feet were quite unable to reach the ground, and the
posture, hanging from her wrists, threw her excellent teats into bold relief.

I bowed and apologized, assuring her that it had not been my intention to
make her suffer any more tonight. (This was certainly true enough. I needed
my sleep.) But since the forest witch had caused her to arouse me, I was left
with no option but to deliver a second thrashing before I could accept her
relief.

Now this had not gone at all as she intended, but now she was as bound by
the rules as I. She had been warned about the curse; she had ignored the
warning by inducing my excitement. Two plus two almost always equals four.
Now she could only endure what she had started.

I try hard to discourage interruptions of my sleep, especially under field
conditions. Melisande's bottom was still well bruised, and I was sure she
would be exquisitely tender. The switch was going to cause her some grief,
or the king was a troll.

I lashed her across the widest part of her bottom and was rewarded with a
kicking, squealing response that showed the truth of my observation. She was
indeed quite tender. Three more licks placed haphazardly around her twisting
flanks left their usual scratched and raw looking marks on her skin.

I treated her to a full use of the switch, taking her across the backs of her
thighs and even a time or two across those lovely, outthrust teats. The
lion's share of my efforts, logically enough, was directed to the
increasingly distressed appearing flesh of her buttocks. She squirmed and
moaned, making my aim dubious at best, but I succeeded in imparting a crop of
lacerations that would keep her rump uncomfortable for a considerable while.

She was most penitent when I finally released her. As I was by then most
ready to enjoy her favors, I guided her none too gently back to her earlier
effort, holding her by the hair, and guiding her lips to my lance. I assured
her that since she had chosen to encourage me by this method, she would now
satisfy me the same way.

She seemed not loathe when she perceived my desire. Her tongue skillfully
encircled the head of my lance, stirring me quickly to an excitement I had
thought excluded by my exhaustion. For a maiden (as I must assume her to be,
since she WAS chosen as a dragon offering), she seemed exceptionally skilled
at what is a seldom mastered task. Her lips and tongue very expertly
caressed me, stimulating me sufficiently to make me forget (at least for the
moment) my reservations about her presence. All too soon for my taste, I
filled her greedy mouth with my second orgasm of the day.

Finally, drained and exhausted, I bade her return to her blanket as I would
to mine. I had no intention of rising again (in ANY sense of the word) until
tomorrow. Mercifully, the forest witch did not return, and Melisande was wise
enough not to awaken me again.

In the morning, as I made to resume my quest, I realized that I had yet
another problem. The villagers who had put Melisande at the dragon stake had,
quite logically, removed her clothing. No point, after all, in leaving
perfectly good flax for the dragon. I had nothing she could wear, and would be
unable to purchase her a garment until we arrived at the next castle.

Now having a naked woman (especially a shapely one with the marks of a recent
thrashing on her bottom) along on a quest is a nuisance of major proportions.
It is an open incitement to riot and mayhem. I was sure that every fledgling
knight on my route, seeing my delightful companion and observing her
condition, would feel compelled to try and take her from me. I would have been
glad enough to relinquish her, but like the dragon, I was not allowed to do so
without a fight.

I could take a minor wound and flee, as had the dragon, but unlike that beast
I had a reputation to uphold. Indeed, the prestige of the royal court itself
was at stake here. Only the most doughty knights were selected for the
quests, and for one such to be defeated by a lowly country warrior was
unthinkable.

And of course, I was hardly at my peak. My sleep, woefully interrupted, had
been inadequate to properly sustain a long day of jousting. I fully expected
to have to engage in two or three battles today until I could reach the next
castle and find my slave a proper cover.

And that in turn meant that I would have to celebrate each victory with her
body and another thrashing. It occurred to me that she had something of an
interest in avoiding conflicts as well. I asked if she would assist in
finding a less traveled path through the woods. She saw the merit in such a
practice, and led me along a hidden path of her people. This meant a longer
journey, but a less demanding one.

We almost made it. It was mid-afternoon and not half a league from castle
of Sir Montmorency when I heard a bellowing challenge from my right. A huge
fellow, all in red armor, appeared at a ford of the river. Seeing my
delightfully naked companion, he promptly made his presence known. I sighed
and donned my armor again, couched my lance (my OTHER lance) and rode at him.

These country gentlemen have no concept of jousting as it is played in the
majors. I faked him out of his socks and unhorsed him easily, hoping his fall
had not broken any bones.

He seemed hale enough when he rose to commend my prowess and offer his
surrender. I had a bright idea then. I demanded a boon, and he must, of
course, grant it. As I recalled, my "curse" as I had explained it required
merely that I could not enjoy a woman unless she was recently thrashed, not
necessarily that I had to thrash her myself.

I allowed to my defeated enemy that I intended (of course) to take my
pleasure with the slave girl in honor of my victory, and required his
assistance. I explained the curse and bade him take Melisande away for the
space of four hours while I gave thanks to the heavens for my triumph. He
was to return her to me well tenderized and in condition in which I could
enjoy her favors.

The girl sobbed at this sentence, but made no objection as the knight led
her away. For four blissful hours I slept, undisturbed by anything. I awoke
to her return, sobbing and kneeling by my side. The motion was imparted to
her large teats which swung and danced most lasciviously. I found myself
quickly and fully capable of discharging my duties.

I pulled her to me, disarranging my trousers and exposing my rampant
erection. With every evidence of eagerness, she straddled my legs and impaled
herself on my lance. Her body quaked and trembled, spasming in her rapture
while I enjoyed a more leisurely bout than the previous ones. I felt three
distinct clutches of her ecstasy before I achieved my own.

Later, on the trail once more, she informed me of the most effective
granting of my boon by the red knight. He had simply led her out of earshot,
and tying her with her arms wrapped around a large tree, had begun to practice
his swordsmanship. Periodically, and more frequently as the time neared for
her return, he applied his heavy leather scabbard to her buttocks. Attacking
from all angles, he had bruised her flesh with considerable enthusiasm. She
assured me that the red knight had most honorably fulfilled his obligation,
leaving her quite sufficiently chastised to honor my curse.

It was gratifying to find that a country knight, unschooled in many of the
more significant virtues, was still conscious of the importance of an oath.
I resolved to commend him to the king when next I was in the capitol.

By evening, we were in Sir Montmorency's castle and I could relax. Or so
I hoped.

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