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 Female x Male Crumbling Stone - An Erotic Medieval Roleplay (kitten. and I)

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by Sexually Liberated Knight, Aug 7, 2018.

  1. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    Rays of golden light shone through the cracks left by the hastily-constructed planked walls of the siege tower, skewering motes of dust and illuminating them like miniatures suns as they wafted over the shining plate-armoured figures. The dust descended, settling on the steel surfaces of their steel harnesses before being sent trailing off into the air from the sudden movements of the knights as they checked and re-checked one another's plate, ensuring that the strapping was sturdy and the shaped steel properly affixed. Then, they turned their attention to their own weapons - two handed warhammers and poleaxes, vicious swords with cruelly pointed tips for working their way between the gaps in plate, blunt weapons little more than ornate cudgels held alongside hefty shields of sheet-reinforced wood, painted in the ever-so-familiar livery of Rolf Aldred's free company. A snarling bear, lean, angry, with a blade clenched between its sharp fangs, painted in blood-red and set against a checkered backdrop. Were these men true knights, they would have each borne their own heraldry. But these men were knights only by the flimsiest definition of the title. First and foremost, they were soldiers. Mercenaries. Rough and ready. Brutal and debaucherous. There were few ideals they held to be lower than chivalry, though they retained their own sense of practical honour. Aldred was glad to lead them into battle - ten of them, by his reckoning, would be worth twice as many poncy landed knights, for all their training and expensive equipment. For what other reason would they be the king's spearhead?

    The entire siege tower lurched as the oversized wheels at its base began to roll forwards, driven from behind by the steadfast labour of dozens of soldiers, each shielded by another man. A shout went up from the walls of the castle, followed by the ever-so-familiar CRACK-twang of crossbow bolts being shot, followed again by steady volleys of pattering coming from teams of longbowmen. There was clattering as armoured footsteps ran across the stone of the castle walls. On the outside, the day had turned hellish as ignited, oil-soaked arrows pelted in a constant stream at the siege tower's intimidating bulk. The contraption would have been wreathed in an inferno were it not for the soaked animal pelts adorning it, stifling the incoming barrage before it could burn through. Rather than a massive wreath of flame, the siege tower began to emanate a thin, mist-like smoke, lending it an ethereal appearance that rather unnerved the defenders. A bolt from a particularly powerful siege crossbow punched into the tower's exterior, stapling the soaked skins further in place. The razor-sharp, armour piercing tip gleamed as it jutted towards Caldor, second-in-command of the company and Aldred's most trusted friend. He reached towards it, gripping the bolt in his armoured gauntlet, and wrenching it through the hole it had made. He examined it closely. "Dipped in animal faeces, by the look of it. Cheeky cunts." Another soldier muttered. "Fucking peasants".

    The siege tower went over a ferocious bump, such that Aldred thought the whole thing might go keeling over onto its side. But it regained traction, and continued to heave onwards. Muffled screams sounded from somewhere down behind - likely from where the terrifyingly effective siege crossbows had punched clean through the shields used to protect the labourers, skewering forearms and scratching flesh. Those men hit would require the attention of a barber-medic and her heated steel if they didn't wish to succumb to infection. For days, now, the defenders had been coating their projectiles in substances most foul. Not an unusual practice in war, but fresh to this particular conflict, a conflict that so far had been characterised by two combatant sides who wished to push the narrative that theirs was the side of the angels. Apparently, that had gone out the window in this particular fight. The word was, the liege of the castle itself had ordered these tactics. He would pay, Aldred swore. Then, the siege tower stopped dead. They were at the wall.

    "The ramp is going down, lads! Kill plenty fer' old Charles, won't ye!" The unseen voice was gruff, reassuring the men-at-arms waiting to be the first to the fight. Aldred called back up. "Don't worry, old man. When we catch the traitor, we'll hog-tie him and drop him at your feet". The men chanted in approval. Aldred's sentiments were popular among his men. He was a born leader - he knew how to motivate men. How to get the best out of them, and how to put them to work in a capacity they'd excel. He never asked them to do anything he would not do twice-over. He was the epitome of knighthood, in that respect. It was a shame he failed miserably in all others. But it was that self-sacrificial sentiment that saw him standing there now, clad in gleaming plate, his massive longsword in his gauntleted fist, his trademark blood-red scarf wrapped around his gorget. The ramp lowered, exposing the soldiers to the wrath of the men they had been tasked with killing. Immediately, Aldred felt a projectile that would have skewered his heart violently glance off his breastplate, striking with enough force to produce a spark. He sprinted forward, bellowing death at the top of his lungs. His men followed him onto the wall of enemy spears.
     
    Last edited: Aug 10, 2018
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  2. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    The air was thick with spores, the smell almost toxic to the lungs. It was heavy and drenched, akin to a wet dog in the true heat of summer; the mold it bore from was chartreuse in hue, spotting corners and creeping upwards, slowly conquering the rich, moist walls made of solid concrete bricks and mortar. It kissed the floor, going so far as to boldly reach towards the wooden floorboards, polished and yet worn. Women were hunched along the walls, their long dresses dragging and catching dirt from the floor. They were in pure silence, fear swimming between them and tension nearly palpable to their clammy, spidery fingers. There was not a sound to be heard other than their breathing, but they knew all too well that they mustn't move. One woman held an infant up to her chest, bouncing it lightly to try and soothe. She brought the child to her breast to feed, her eyes darting wildly around the room. The other women were silent, either staring at the wide, bolted doors, or trying to comfort their own children of various ages.

    A cellar was safe. It was the first thought into the Mistress' head as the guard spoke to her, his expression slack. It was an obvious fear that he held, even at that point, for everyone knew that their army was weak and their people discouraged. Perhaps it was a battle that was needed to bring back the life into the people beneath, but it certainly was not one of this scale. "Ma'lady, they won't be long. Find yerself a safe place--and take the children with you. The seamstress and the maids are all gathering the women here, and they will meet by your chambers." His voice was harsh and low, like the sound of boots grinding against gravel. Agitation spread across the woman's pale face, her azure gaze squinting slightly. "And what has my husband said about this?" She retorted, her tone as sharp as her eyes. The man hesitated, wiping the sweat of his brow with his heavy hand. He bellowed a sigh, then shook his head in defeat. "He is nowhere to be found. Either with the men already, or..." The large man didn't need to even finish her sentence. Her husband was a coward, heavy set and hairy. He seemed to sweat when there wasn't quite a reason to, and his anger often went unchecked. No one dared to speak out against him, especially his wife.


    Without another word, she dismissed the guard to return to his duties. With her mind reeling, she set out to find the rumored women to hide with. Her heart thundered against her chest, and an uneasiness began to settle deep within her, a seed planted that would not budge. If they were to fail, it wasn't certain whether or not she would make it out alive. Certainly all of the women, along with herself, would be used. However, it was not known whether they would be kept or discarded like the traitors they were seen as. The thought hung around in her mind even as she gathered the innocents, guiding them down the steep stairs that led to the cellar.

    Alongside the musty smell, there was a thick sweetness of wine. It was kept by the barrel, lined along another wall. They tried to haul them towards the door to add another layer of protection, yet they were as heavy as boulders and impossible for the feeble women to budge. It was then that they crouched, lining the wall where the shadow fell. They were lit by only a single burning torch, while a gas lamp sat idle in the event that they were undiscovered and had to survive for a while longer until safe.
     
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  3. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    Aldred grunted as his blade narrowly turned aside a harrowing stroke, thrown by one of the castle's last defenders. He bore a crude, rusty armour-piercing polearm and no other article that might suggest him as a warrior. More than likely, he was a simple serf who had elected to join the fight out of coercion, bribery or bloodlust. It mattered not. Aldred spun, his movements feeding from the momentum of the absorbed blow, and delivered a stunning pommel strike to the man's jaw, rendering him unconscious on his feet. Feeling no need to dispatch the man, he simply barged him over, sending him toppling onto the bloodsoaked stone like a ragdoll. As he fell, Aldred found himself facing empty air. He turned around - behind him, the vicious combat that had enshrouded the wall had begun to die down, the defenders hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched by the relentless aggression of his men. For the second time that day, he was proud. He dropped a knee, regaining his breath with a few powerful inhalations. Caldor approached and tapped him on his shoulder. "Looks like we've won this one". Aldred grunted in agreement. "Did you see any of ours fall?" "Aye. Petr. William. Poor lads. Someone I didn't see got skewered by a bolt on the way over - toppled right off the side". Beneath the unrelenting steel visage of his visor, Aldred grimaced. He'd known them both well. Caldor broke the mournful silence. "Still, the day is ours. They'll rest in the Lady's care." He didn't mean the barber-medics. He meant the Lady they worshipped. "Form up the unscathed men and have them clear the castle - tell the rest to seek aid. You're coming with me." Aldred stood up, gazing idly off into the distance, admiring the way the distant mountains silhouetted against the morning sun's glare. They'd used that sun to blind the defender's marksmen. It was a beautiful herald of death, the ring around the fiery yellow core red with the blood it had helped spill. "Time to round up the women."

    The two knights trudged through the lower echelons of the castle, their steel sabatons clattering noisily on the floor as they exchanged chatter. Or rather, Caldor intermittently sung and told half-true tales and Aldred peered through the darkness in silence, torch in hand. Womenfolk tended to fancy themselves rather clever in sieges, hiding in the depths of their castles as if they'd never be found. Of course, they were always found, but Aldred was thankful that they at least knew enough to stay out of the fighting. Neither he nor his men needed the blood of innocent women on their already stained consciences, should they happen to stumble into the thick of it or, Lady forbid, pick up a weapon themselves. The pair came to the cellar door, and halted - they could see the dim torchlight flickering beneath it. It was thick, rotted oak, reinforced with rusty iron. He knocked, the banging sound startlingly loud, amplified by the cavernous hallways. "Open up, please". Aldred did not shout - his voice was compassionate and totally calm in tone.
     
    Last edited: Aug 7, 2018
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  4. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    With all of their eyes and ears trained on the heavily barred doors, it was no surprise when they all began to hear the low sound of voices in the distance. They pierced through the quiet like the blade of the armies, slicing the air and bleeding it. Quiet gasps responded, and they all shared the expressions of pure dread. Beneath the rotting edges of the double doors shone a light, dim and distant, but soon to brighten as the venturers neared. The Mistress swallowed dryly, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. She very well knew they were found, and couldn't help the guilt that began to poison the fear in her mind, a deadly concoction to say the least. She shifted her numb legs, dispersing the pins and needles up to her knees, the sensation causing her to wince.

    However, it was the bold raps at the door that truly made her jump. All the women pulled their children to their chest, trembling and on the verge of tears. The voices were not familiar, nor were the words spoken. They were not guards, for if they were, they would have spoken on behalf of the Mistress' husband. With that in mind, she came to the conclusion that he was dead. It was a bittersweet idea, as she was free from his filthy, sweaty palms, but now she would be facing possible death. In all honesty, she didn't quite know which was worse.

    It was a moment frozen in time until the Mistress stood up, brushing her gown off. It was clear that she was the nobleman's wife, as she wore silken clothes in pure white. The fabric hugged at her curves, her pale skin beneath it nearly as clean and untouched. A matching corset hugest her ribs and accentuated her chest. Her dark, burnt chestnut hair was equally as cool toned as her eyes, falling over her shoulders in smooth strands. It framed her angular face, her expression stony. She paced towards the door, having realized that they would be excavated one way or another. It was in their best interest to give themselves up. Behind her, a child began to weep. She unbolted the rusty door, and opened it.

    Mistress Danielle stood back, suddenly presented with men. "Welcome" was all she said.
     
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  5. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    Aldred bowed, his face still obscured behind the formidable visor of his helm. The flickering of his torch and the one possessed by the women gave him a startling appearance. Immovable. Monolithic. Coldly, he surveyed the room beyond, and turned to Caldor. "Get four or five men you can trust. Escort these women to somewhere comfortable, and keep them safe till the rest settle down." His gaze fell back upon the woman standing before him. It was then that he decided to raise his visor, reaching up with a free hand to grip its underside and slide it into place with the slightest metallic rasp. From chin to forehead, a handsome face was revealed, miraculously devoid of horrible deformities and scars for a man in his profession. He possessed a strong jaw, thin lips, a regal nose and narrow eyes which constantly surveyed every tiny detail before him, classifying it in terms of danger to the men he was responsible for. Beyond the woman in the doorway, he saw little but frightened mothers. Any person, no matter how weak, could be a danger if they had the inclination to cause harm. He saw none from these woman. Only then, did he turn his gaze turn back to the woman before him.

    He recognised her immediately - not that he'd seen her before, but from the tales he'd heard. She lived up to what men said of her. With a sigh, he resigned himself to the deeds he knew were inevitable at this point. He continued to address Caldor. "I'll take Lady Danielle into personal protection, to ensure her safety." Caldor, his visor now also raised, revealing a face far more fitting of a cut-throat mercenary, nodded. He understood what was to happen, and he understood what his commander wanted. Most of all, he understood that even the strongest of men needed moments of weakness to maintain their constitution. The old soldier nodded, and walked past Danielle, careful to to accidentally brush into her. Aldred outstretched a gauntleted hand to Danielle, flawlessly adopting a not entirely natural smile as he bowed his head respectfully. "I've been ordered to keep you safe until the rightful king arrives to appropriate this castle." A lie. "The safest place for you will be your own quarters, under my guard." A half-truth.
     
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  6. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    Danielle’s fingertips flickered across her abdomen nervously, following the ribs of the lace that tightened her corset. It was a habit grown from a child of boredom, stuck in educational classes that only extended so far before maiden tasks were begun. She was a habitual person that was uneasy with change, and the current situation certainly fell into that category. A change in power was unusual and revolutionary—both literally and metaphorically—and must be treated as such. With no previous experience dealing with invaders that now became captors, she was at a loss for etiquette. This was no dinner party. As the man a stride ahead spoke of the women behind her, the Mistress’ head snapped back to offer a curt and somewhat unsure nod of a hypocritical reassurance. It was believable, and so the women all stood up with their children by their sides. The older children had resorted to weeping into the aprons of their mothers, while some of the smaller children were asleep or fussing. Danielle had to trust that they would be taken to safety, and she knew better than anything that resisting was a one-way ticket to execution. It was yet unknown where the men hailed from, but asking was not a casualty that she would extend for the time being. This was their castle now, she would find out soon enough.

    Once more, she reminded herself that she had never experienced such an overtaking. When the man, who was admittedly strikingly handsome, offered to take her into safety, she assumed that was precisely what she would be getting. She would be foolish to think totally of these men in the name of truth, and yet she had little choice. Mentally she wished she could say a word with her sharp tongue, but verbal abuse from a woman only irritated or amused men. It wasn’t as helpful to her cause as it would be to her pride.

    “The rightful king, you say.” Danielle echoed, her voice bitter but somewhat curious. “What has become of my husband? Have you managed to behead him? Too eager to wait it out in public executions, as he barbarically did to the men before him? Believe me, he will not be missed. That doesn’t mean I take kindly to strangers with the blood of my family on their hands.” Whether or not it was true that this man had killed her husband mattered not. What mattered was getting it across that she was not a damsel in distress. However, her plan of keeping her mouth shut had quickly been lost. “No matter. Take me to my chambers then. “
     
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  7. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    Aldred regarded her cooly, deciphering her words and accepting them as those of a confused woman who had not only been mislead by her husband but spent the last hour or so locked away in a cellar, hiding from a vicious battle. "There will be no executions. Your husband was slain on the battlements." He decided it prudent not to mention that the slayer had not been himself, nor one of his men. It had been a crossbow bolt fired into his back as he tried run, having lost his weapon in a duel with Aldred only moments prior. Aldred had promised the man a pouch of crowns for that shot, though he slightly resented that it had not been himself dealing the deathblow. It would have been more impressive, he supposed. Still. This way the event maintained a certain level of professional anonymity - that was masculine, to an extent. Even the way he talked to women with the intention of bedding them was tactical, thought-through. He wondered if his way of looking at the world, developed over a lifetime of constant, unremitting battle, was actually of benefit in situations like this. Then again, he supposed not - bedding this woman wouldn't be a matter of talking her into it.

    He did, however, take careful note of one of her statements. She did not take kindly to strangers with the blood of her family on their hands. He would have to be wary of this one - the most potent assassin, as the saying went, was a whore with a knife. The best time to strike was as a man emptied his balls.

    He had offered her his hand, but she had not taken it. He simply reached further and wrapped his bulky ironclad fingers around her slim wrist. Mindfully, yet decisively, he pulled her along as he turned away at a pace slightly faster than perhaps she'd been expecting. This action wasn't a ploy or thought-out strategy. The simple truth was that he could barely wait to be alone with her behind a barred door. As they moved throughout the halls of the castle, though great halls and long corridors, up spiralling flights of staircases, the pair drew some knowing glances from Aldred's men as they stalked the corridors in groups, hunting for foes that had ran and hid within the depths of the castle, their weapons bloody from the fight. A few gave crisp nods and salutes. To them, there was no surer sign of victory than Aldred taking the lady of whatever place they'd just conquered to her bedroom. His ploughing of her was symbolic of their victory overall, they felt. Aldred enjoyed the metaphor.

    Eventually, after ascending the last flight of stairs, they stood in a narrow entryway, facing a door that, while ornate, was less ostentatiously large than most of the doors strewn throughout the castle. The lord's bedroom. At either side of the door, a pair of fully-armoured guards would usually stand on duty - their places had been made evident by coloured tiles, into each a small grove had been dug by the shaft of the heft pole-weapons the guards had hefted. The door was swung wide open. Aldred guided her inside, his pace the fastest yet it had been, and turned around. His actions returned to a state of slow purposefulness as he heaved the door closed, and secured the bolt in place with a heavy thunk. He had discarded the torch some time ago, and with both hands free, reached up to his helm, thumbing the fasteners that kept it in place before hefting the entire thing off his head. He let it clatter to the ground, the sturdy metal unharmed by the fall to cold floor. He turned around, revealing the rest of his head to the woman - what she had not been able to see was his dark, curly hair, somewhat flattened from the weight of the helmet and the arming cap beneath it. Once a hand moved through it, it returned to its wild state. He was not a man who saw a need to constantly maintain his hair - barber-medics were better put to work conducting surgery and cauterising wounds, so he let it grow until it became a nuisance and cut it himself. It suited his features - gave him a decidedly feral element that only built onto his exceptionally warlike appearance.
     
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  8. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    The words had been slung at Danielle at the pace of a jackrabbit, fast enough to act as a splash of cold water on her face. The shock resonated and must’ve been visible, as some part of her had not accepted the reality that this noble man had been responsible for the death of her husband, until death do us part, her instructor. Anger flared in the depths of her, but she quelled the flames before they could consume her. In her eyes, she had said enough to do damage to her already damaged reputation.
    Of course, the rejection of the outreached hand was a stark act of disrespect. She wanted him to think that she was not content, as that was certainly the case. He didn’t take her rejection well it seemed, as his rough hand instead latched on to her thin wrist. He didn’t think twice and she saw that, and it didn’t give her an opportunity to verbally object. She was pulled along suddenly, her slender legs moving quick to keep up with his pace. She tried to shake him free of her wrist a handful of times, but he was firmly clamped, and she had no option but to succumb to his leadership.

    He walked decisively, almost as if he knew exactly where he was going. She concluded that he must’ve already scoured the entirety of the castle, laying a mental map of his future home. She had assumed he would be the future leader of this castle, the king, in his own respect. Her stomach churned at the thought, a nauseous feeling overcoming the now-widow.

    She stole glances at the men as they passed, but she quickly learned that it was a mistake to do so. Their bloody armor and weapons made her shiver, the bodies scattered occasionally making Danielle stiffen with grief. Even as they entered her chambers she was reluctant to move, too caught up by the place where her guards stood. She knew them personally, and it was a jab to the heart to see how they had been taken out.

    She was dragged into the room, left standing stranded a meter away as the man hauled the door shut. She was puzzled for a second, questioning why he would stay, until it dawned on her. A primal need to protect herself quickly overcame the young lady, and she began to undo her corset. It felt restrictive now.

    It was in this lighting that she could truly be seen: her milky white skin tinted with a very slight tan, her piercing blue eyes and starkly contrasting dark hair. Her waist was small and pinched, her breasts large yet proportionate. Her shoulders were angular and narrow, her collarbones visible. Her hips were tapered out, yet she still maintained a quite frail look. She had heart shaped lips, painted a soft mauve and plump. Yet the fire in her eyes dared the man to come closer as she pulled her corset from her body, then promptly throwing it at the man.

    It was not a throw meant to damage, clearly, but one meant to act as a warning. She backed away, folding her arms over her chest. “You liar! Stay away. I know what you want. I know what you think.”
     
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  9. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    The effect of the thrown corset on his steel plate was beyond pathetic. It fell meekly to the ground after its negligable contact, leaving a slight look of amusement on Aldred's stoic features. He remained as silent as a ghost, eyes fixed on the object of his desire as he began the task of stripping himself of his plate. It was a complex process, taking many men minutes of fumbling, yet those who spent as much time in and out of it as Aldred did could navigate it in a fraction of the time. Gauntlets off first, to let his nimble fingers quickly and easily address the bounty of straps and clips which fastened the hefty tempered-steel plates to his body in such a way that he could move almost as if he was wearing nothing at all. Joining his helmet, more pieces of plate clattered to the floor - first, his pauldrons and breastplate, to allow his shoulders more freedom for the rest of the task. Then, the myriad of complicatedly arranged plates on his arms - couters and vambraces, revambraces and the steel fabric of his mail gussets, all discarded on the ground in a heap of shining steel. Later, he would inevitably retrieve them all and see to their expert maintenance. For now, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Or rather, a single matter, pressing obtusely against crotch of the quilted chausses worn beneath the plating on his legs. Soon enough, it was all gone. Not once did his eyes look anywhere other than hungrily into those of his prize.

    The buckle of his belt gave way to his tearing fingers, the leather band loosening and slipping from around his waist. He caught it by the scabbard that was attached to it - the scabbard that held the weapon which had slain not a small number of men on this very day, and ultimately doomed the husband of the woman he now intended to fuck. To rape. He gently set the weapon down against the door. Then too was his arming doublet gone, eagerly torn over his shoulders and head only to be discarded, pooling over a collection of miscellaneous armour components in a fabric heap. This revealed to her his muscular torso and arms - he looked exactly as a man should after spending countless hours in each day clanking around in a suit of metal. His impressive musculature rippled and flexed pleasingly with his movements, his slightly pale skin glistening with a sheen of moisture. While no blood could seep through the steel plate or thick padding a knight wore into battle, his present hygiene was still entirely subject to the things his body did to itself during combat. He was sweaty, his bodily aspect even further enhanced by the blood flow intense physical activity had brought to his limbs. At heart, he was a warrior. Not a man who fussed over himself. He had plentiful black hair where it was expected, though like the hair on his head, it was soft and curly instead of stiff and wiry.

    Once he was stripped down to only his trousers, he began to advance on the woman before him. Slow, implacable, his bare feet softly falling upon the stone floor with a stealthiness that was entirely unerring for a man of his formidable height and powerful build.
     
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  10. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    The intended effect of the corset being hurled at the traitor of a man was truly underwhelming, causing Danielle to huff and wildly look around at anything else to throw. The man seemed unbothered, too interested in removing all of the armor that plated his body. She assumed it would take him a bit shorter than most warriors, and yet also assumed it would take a minute. While she had the time, she sat on the edge of her regal bed and began to look over her own outfit. Her dress was long and layered, and would likely be a bit of a difficult article to remove for a man who wasn't used to such elaborate clothes. The buttons on the back were tight and quite fidgety, so much that even her maids would have difficulty buttoning and unbuttoning her for dawn and dusk. However, she also knew that he was likely careless, and would rip it if he could. Her eyes shot back up to his muscles, now beginning to be exposed as he continually removed the plates. She scrutinized him, then became suddenly aware that he wouldn't have much difficulty removing her clothing. After all, it seemed easy enough for him to pierce a knife through muscle, flesh, and bone.

    It wasn't until the man was nearly nude that Danielle's heart began to race. She stood up, leaving her fingertips pressed against the bedside. It truly was a bed fit for a king, made of hand-carved dark oak wood that swirled up to the ceiling. The mattress was thick, the sheets a gorgeous crimson hue made from an expensive dye of the time. There was an abundance of pillows, one of which she snatched into her arms. She clutched the goose down ornament with purpose, her expression hardening as she moved sideways and climbed onto the bed. There she was safe, for if he lunged at her, she knew she would at least be able to throw herself at the other side of the room while shoving the pillow at him. It would be difficult with such a small, nimble woman, and certainly one as determined as poor Danielle.

    Her voice came out low, threatening. It was surprisingly gruff for the sweet-toned woman, who normally had a voice that dripped with honey. "Keep away." She warned, positioning herself in the middle of the bed. "Leave me alone, you bastard! I don't want anything to do with you. I do not belong to you, I belong to my husband!"

    Although she wouldn't admit it, her husband did lack in bed. Being larger meant his stamina left something to be desired, his body often sweaty and musty. He knew not of how to pleasure a woman, and often requested to take but never to give. His kisses were sloppy and wet, whether they were on the lips, neck, or her breasts. He groped at her with forceful, fleshy sausages of fingers, often doing so with enough force that Danielle would whimper, wince, or ask the man to stop. Despite the incompetence, she still did not want this stranger.
     
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  11. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    12:07 PM
    He considered his next words carefully as he advanced on the woman. "If you insist that you still belong to your husband, then you have two options - necrophilia, or a convent. Neither seem particularly fun to me. Why limit yourself now that you're free from the looming sin of adultery?" His words came out as hurtful and harsh, but in truth, he had not meant them as such. He was not a man predisposed to mincing his words for smooth consumption, and with the lion's share of his company consisting of roughly spoken warriors, lewd-tongued whores and bored military officers, it was safe to say he had not miraculously gained the capacity for diplomacy. Yet he cursed himself as the sentiment hung in the air - it was a spiteful thing to say. and most certainly not a stroke favourable to the image of him he wished to generally cultivate. Yet, what did he care what she thought of him? She'd be spending the next few days with his cock in her, and no opinion of hers could change that.

    In moments, his broad strides had carried him before her. He noted that she sat defiantly on the bed - certainly, she had recoiled, but she had unusually iron nerves for a woman. Most of the other women he'd raped had fled to the corners of the room, as if they were attempting to hide and will him out of existence. It obviously never worked. But positioning herself in the centre of the bed was smart - it gave her more options to move, to react. For all of his callous detachment, an emotional stance necessary for the full enjoyment of what he intended to do, the tiniest seed of a warm emotion besides animal lust had willed its way into existence in his cold heart. Despite himself, he feared he was beginning to like the woman. She was a fighter. He had some level of respect for that, but he doubted she could follow it through. With his composure restored by that grim sentiment, he reached towards the bed, gripping the frame in one powerful hand as he hauled himself onto the soft surface. Once again, he proved he possessed a level of dexterity that contrasted his immense physically, though the finely wrought wooden frame upon which the feather mattress sat creaked as it accepted his weight for the first time. Not unlike the noise a woman made when she first accepted his manhood - another appealing metaphor.

    A bar of orange sunlight flickered over his features as he crawled towards her, projected by a gap in the thick curtains smothering the window. It caught his eyes, glinting blue. It shone over his musculature, bathing his skin gold. He raised his left hand, intending to deliver a firm but harmless push to Danielle's abdomen, one which he intended would leave her lying on her back for his powerful arms to grasp, flip over, and mould to his will.
     
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  12. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    The words spoken by the nearly nude man made Danielle scoff, rolling her eyes. His extremes ricocheted off of her, bouncing without harming her in any way. Perhaps it was a slight twinge of anger that pierced her heart as he spoke so disrespectfully, but it was to be expected from a clear cut enemy, which this man was. Her husband had lacked in just about every department, but he was still just that--her husband. He had his soft side, his humorous and bitter personality that never failed to smile. He was a coward, but one that the young woman still cared for. To be spoken to so harshly when he was only hours dead was salting the wound, and it wasn't long before her expression flashed with the irritation of his words. "What do you know?" She barked, sitting on her knees. "All you have done is kill and rape, a bastard of a knight in shining armor, I must say."

    As she spoke. he advanced towards her with a speed she had not calculated. His movements had previously been so slow and deliberate, stalking his prey like a cat on a mouse. Now, suddenly, he was quite near to the bed. She shifted on her knees uncomfortably, feeling a familiar tingle of numbness from sitting so awkwardly. Her dress was rather annoying, and she feared she would trip on it when trying to launch herself away from the man when he finally would pounce. He was at the edge of the bed by the time she had considered that obstacle, and she didn't have time to untuck the fabric from beneath her knees. Her eyes had to stay locked on him, looking both threatened and threateningly at her captor. She was far enough away that she sat still when his thick hand wrapped around the post, waiting for the last moment she could move to do so. Any sooner and he may cut her off with a shortcut, something that would prove to be just as detrimental as her not moving at all. And so, like a sitting duck, she watched the hunter.

    He moved towards her with a seeming purpose, one that loomed over the both of them like virgin newlyweds. Certainly he wouldn't feel the pressure that crippled the young widow, but it was a heavy weight to bear on her shoulders. It was when she went to move that her fear became substance--she was quickly restricted by the skirt of her dress, making her fumble and topple over with the aid of the man's hand. She screamed--more in surprise than in fear--and landed on her back, slightly tilted to be laying sideways as she propped herself up with her elbows. She tried to scoot back, even lifting a leg to kick the man.
     
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  13. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    Aldred exhaled as her kick connected with his steel abdomen, giving him a moment of pause as his advance thudded to a momentary halt. There was surprising force there. Despite the slight crunch of pain it caused, anger could not be further from his heart. By the Lady, he could scarcely believe how hard he got when they tried to hurt him like that. His member strained ever-more-ferociously against his trousers, causing a formidable bulk to loom ahead of him. With his left hand, he seized her kicking leg at the ankle and used it to heave her back across the sheet towards him, dragging the neatly-made linen covers horrendously askew. Once he had her where he wanted her, he applied some weight to it, pinning it to the sheets slightly off to his left. He anchored the errant limb in place with his shin, positioning it diagonally over hers with the orientation of intertwined fingers from the same hand. He repeated this with her other leg, his terrible strength easily overpowering any resistance she could give and using only a modest application of his weight to keep her legs in place and split apart, her posterior jutting into the air. At no stage did he over-stretch her, or mindlessly plant his weight into her, or do anything that might cause discomfort beyond what she manufactured for herself. He raped women because he wanted to fuck them, not because he wanted them to suffer, as paradoxical as such a statement would seem from the perspective of a victim. In all honesty, seeing women happy warmed his heart - but it was a rare thing in these dark days, and the more bestial of his needs prevailed.
     
    Last edited: Aug 9, 2018
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  14. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    It was a feeling of pure, blissful success that washed over Danielle when the kick landed, feeling accomplished that she had at least managed something in retaliation. She was shocked to learn how rock solid his abdomen was, however, and how quick his reaction would be. He nabbed her ankle before she could retract the leg, using the limb to pull her closer to him. She cried out yet again, kicking freely with the other leg as he was suddenly looming over her. Not only did the dragging of her bring her closer to her enemy, but it bunched her dress uncomfortlt beneath her, causing it to be awkwardly tight on the top from being pinned underneath. It was as if she had a wedgie of a skirt, caused primarily because the back had not moved with the front. It was not her main focus as her leg was permanently pinned. Now she was concerned with the fact that she couldn’t kick him using her dominant leg, which was stronger than the other. Still, that leg hadn’t done enough damage.

    With the movement of a seasoned contortionist, she tried to twist her body to not only make his life more difficult, but to perhaps grind their shin bones and help free her. She essentially flipped her top half over, hoping maybe the force would be enough to let her hips get some leverage as well. It didn’t work, instead causing her back to ache a bit and a bit of time to be wasted. She quickly went back to how she was originally, desperately searching for a way to fight back. She spotted more pillows and grabbed one, attempting to hurl it at the man with the best strength she could muster.
     
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  15. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    The pillow poofed against his broad chest, falling into his left hand, distracting him from a momentary reverie that came as he admired the way her dress' behaviour accentuated her wondrously alluring form. A look of genuine mirth crossed his features, accompanied by a rather out-of-place chuckle. That, he hadn't expected. With a gentle flick of his arm, he sent it back in her face, more a soft pass than an actual throw. He leaned over her, his masculine scent overcoming the air around her as the aggressive protrusion in his britches shamelessly nudged against her sweet, fabric-covered buttocks. He smelled of power, victory, and dominance. He used the extra reach the movement gave him to deftly pluck her wrists out of the air, stretching out to reach them and pulling them backwards as he straightened his back, imparting some force from his pelvis into her posterior as leverage, the ever-persistent presence of his manhood running along the crack of Danielle's bottom firmly. For now, her dignity was still preserved by the continued presence both of their garments. As if he was cuffing her, he pressed her wrists together against the lower portion of her back, just above where her buttocks terminated. He held them together with his left hand, wrapping her wrists in his powerful fingers and effectively immobilising her arms.

    And there he had her - face down in the sheets, arse up in the air, legs split and pinned, and her hands firmly restrained. If there had been any doubt before, her ravishing was now inevitable.

    Filled with a sense of satisfaction, he turned his free hand to matters of undressing. First, he grasped the slightly-grubby hem of her dress. He had no desire to tear the thing - in fact, the way it made her look was in no small part responsible for her current predicament. He wanted to see her wear it again. Atop that, even he had to admit, she had already been deprived of much this day, and the destruction of material possessions tended to hammer home despair in those facing hardships. He had seen it many times - young women, tears streaming from their eyes as they cradled broken trinkets or tattered scraps of material still partially serving as clothing, their homes burning around them - such was the result of a visit from the uninvited guest of conflict. Most men were much the same, though they favoured hardier, practical things. The Lady had shaped humans as sentimental creatures. If he was to use her as he intended for the next few days, he much preferred she have the same fight in her she did now, not sadness. Resentment, stoicism, and aggression were healthy emotions that filled the heart and empowered the soul, not so far divorced from lust - despondency, by contrast, made for a boring fuck. Relishing what he saw, he tactfully drew the hem of her dress up her thighs, over her hips and across her back.
     
    Last edited: Aug 10, 2018
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  16. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    The pitiful attempt to stave off the looming man was a shameful, blatant failure, and warranted a huff from the small woman. Her panic was increasing with each ticking of the clock, and she felt like she was trapped in a room that was slowly filling with water. Her captor did not move quickly, he did not move violently; his touches were deliberate and calculated, likely seasoned from scores of occasions where he would bed women. She didn’t know if he had raped anyone per se, but he certainly was knowledgeable on how to disarm and render a woman helpless. It was a bitter taste on Danielle’s tongue with the nature of how she was tied, for the woman had never been restrained, in bed or not.

    It was a very quick and useless grapple when the man reached for her arms. She tried to slap him away, yet only made it that much easier for his burly hands to locate her wrists. He pulled them behind her, situating himself, and leaning close enough that she could feel the hard rod that sat so contently on her ass. She scowled, initiating a spontaneously violent struggle against the restraining hold the man had on her. She cried out in frustration, balling and unballing her fists. “Let me go!” Her voice rang out loudly, laced with a poisonous anger that compelled her to begin plotting his death once he was done using her. She had a dagger in the night stand—perhaps that would be her chance later at night. If she could secure a way to rid of him by the end of the night, then she would be more at peace with her animalistic needs.

    She turned her head to keep from suffocating in the dislodged sheets, panting as she strained to see what he was doing. He seemed to be observing for a moment, then dragging her dress upwards and over her back. He was exposing her completely and she was utterly powerless against him. She even attempted a not-so-subtle pull of her leg towards her body, but his weight was twice hers, enough to keep her truly pinned against the pillowy mattress. Beneath her skirt was nothing more than a pair of silken underwear, wedged between the cheeks of her ass and slightly displaced from the small bed battle that was ensuing. “Don’t do it, please.” Her voice had changed to that of a more desperate tone, a far cry from the venom she had spat earlier. “Find yourself a brothel, find a whore. Let me go!”
     
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  17. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    He drunk in the sight of her askew undergarments like it was a fine vintage, fuelling his callous disregard for her resistance and his own insatiable lust. His erection reached its zenith, straining with great discomfort against the crotch of his chausses. Absentmindedly, he dropped them, the rough material pooling around his knees. Pulled down momentarily with his trousers, it flicked up into the air as it escaped them, the tip brushing the soft flesh of her right arse-cheek. The aroma of the room became unmistakably that of cock as it was finally freed. It was unrelentingly masculine in appearance - the bloated, red tip pulsated in anticipation, the shaft thick and veiny. obscenely long and bedecked by a fair compliment of dark hair at its base. His no-less impressive testicles swung between his thighs - doubtlessly, they would require some attention of their own later.

    Emboldened by this release, after performing a few habitual strokes of his manhood, his free hand grabbed Danielle's final safeguard against his lust and tore it away, stretching the fabric in his vigour as it travelled down her thighs. His pretence of care was now gone. Now, nature was in control - a bare cock, an unprotected cunt. The beast in him could not be stopped. He gave her now bare arse a none-too-gentle smack. He pursed his lips, spitting on his own cock and stroking it in to provide some semblance of lubrication. Immediately after this, eager, probing fingers made their way between her thighs, feeling out her lewd slit and searching for the bud of her womanly pettles - his caress of it began, nimble and conducted in circular motions of steadily increasing vigour and rapidity. He was practised at this - there was more to it than what it took to stimulate a cock. A man could jerk his cock as he pleased and always reach consistent results - a woman's apparatus, however, often had to be appealed to, and convinced with tender argument. Though it did not always work, Aldred had found that the fickle things could be turned against the wishes of the woman herself and brought to mositure if courted correctly. Still, he'd find other ways to make the process of fucking her smoother if her body wasn't compliant.

    As he did this, he could not help himself but press himself between the crack of her bottom and rub himself along it. The motion was satisfyingly erotic, but his patience was wearing thin. The tip of his cock found itself manoeuvred into position by his hand - it restlessly awaited its calling. Once again, he leaned over her, his typical demeanour overcome by something callous and beastly as he finally saw fit to respond to her desperate pleas to find a whore instead. "But I already have." With that, gradually, inexorably, unstoppably, he increased his pressure and parted her. His muscular buttocks tensed involuntarily with pleasure as he finally penetrated her, skewering her cunt with the instrument of his stolen pleasure.
     
    Last edited: Aug 11, 2018
  18. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    She couldn't recall the last occasion--if there ever was one to begin with--where she was properly held down, pinned to the bed, and bent over in a way that allows for a man to have complete and utter control of her. She began to wonder just how she managed to get into this predicament in the first place, and cursed her useless idea of placing herself in the center of the bed. She had quickly become a sitting duck, and she perhaps would have had better luck if she positioned herself somewhere near the door. If she had only been able to duck beneath him and unlatch the door, she could have staved off his capture enough to ruin his mood. It appeared she had taken the smart-ass route and paid for it. As she mulled this over in her exhausted brain, she was even-tempered externally; her eyes were focused at some indistinct point on the wall, her breathing even. She would occasionally wriggle to remove a kink in her spine, but she had gone complacent. She had stopped struggling.

    That is, she stopped struggling until she felt the telltale feel of flesh against flesh. Her pupils dilated as her eyes widened ever so slightly, her breath hitching as the reality of the moment came back to her. Her elbow twisted as she tried to pull her limbs back closer to her sides, but they were still as firmly restrained as before. Her eyes strained to catch a glimpse of his erection, mostly out of curiosity of what was about to take her, and yet her own body sat in the way of her view. She exhaled suddenly, a sound of frustration from her rather bland view. He had chosen perhaps, in her humble opinion, the worst position to bed a woman in. However, he also had the most control of her.

    The cold air hit the her exposed flesh between her legs quite suddenly as her underwear was unceremoniously dragged down her thighs, sliding willingly until it became wedged between the spread limbs. She made an indistinguishable sound, attempting to writhe in a way that would hike the fabric back up. Like all the rest of her attempts to free herself, it failed. A curious hand wandered down between her thighs, parting the pink, damp lips and finding the small bundle of nerves resting atop. She hadn't expected him to be knowledgeable enough to know where a woman was most sensitive, but it was clear that she was unhappy he knew how to manipulate her. "How dare you--" She began, her words abruptly cut off by the surge of pleasure from his rolling fingers. Her thighs trembled just the slightest, a wetness forming that would certainly suffice for entry. He seemed to take note, and pushed into her without more of a warning than the piercing of his cock into her folds. Her voice rang out in a sweet cry, a high-pitched, breathy sound as her body stiffened against the intruder. Her hands balled into fists, her plump lips parted in the usual O shape.
     
  19. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Well-Known Member Member

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    A low growl escaped Aldred and his tensed musculature relaxed as he allowed the immense pleasure that filled his cock to defuse throughout his body, sending tingles of ecstasy through his bones. This was it - she was his now. For a few seconds he held himself, enjoying the lingering satisfaction of initial penetration as he ever-so-slightly pulsated in her depths. Then, he let himself slide out of her - despite how he his girth and length bulged against her, testing her limits thoroughly, he slid smoothly through her. His shaft, vacating her up to his head, came away with a moist, sticky sheen. Wasting no time, he plunged it back in, repeating the thorough motion with a slow and unrelenting purpose. He established a lewd rhythm, a fleshy-drumbeat of vigorous skin-on-skin contact that was punctuated by the soft clapping of his testicles battering against her in a most slapstick manner.

    His free hand rested on her buttocks, periodically squeezing and moulding the soft flesh as he pleased. It was warm in his cool, rough palms. Every so often, he was consumed by the compulsion to give her a playful smack. He straightened his back- he leaned back, his hips thrust forward. The noises that she made were like music to his ears. He had an ear for the unique melody of the each woman's noises - there were few sounds more pleasant, he had decided a long time ago. They were a playful abandonment of the collected and graceful demeanour women were expected to adopt in the society of their kingdom. They were also a sign that perhaps she wasn't so opposed to enjoying the experience as she had expressed, though that was a pointless avenue of thought. She would act how she would, and he would do with her what he pleased. Gradually, his fucking of her grew more intense and rapid, but only incrementally. He was a man who preferred to take his time, enjoying a woman at his leisure rather than rushing through and pounding away to reach the thrill of ejaculation as swiftly as possible. He was consistent, constant, and firm.
     
  20. kitten.

    kitten. Darkened Mind Member

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    The animalistic growl was a sound from the man that almost was pleasant for Danielle to hear, her heart skipping a beat. Her husband had not exactly been the most active in bed, and he certainly had not had the finesse that Aldred already presented in this small amount of time between the two of them. Not once had her husband known where to put his mouth when exploring her body, nor did his fingers ever seek out the nerves that would make her cry in the way he always invisioned her to. Her new captor had already accomplished the latter in a matter of minutes from forcing her against the bed, but she would never admit to the pleasure that she had gotten from his rough hands. He seemed to savor the moment deep within her, and she could feel the pulsing deep within her core. A shiver drove down her spine forcefully, making her breathing hitch for a brief moment. Then he began to slide out, his rather thick length stretching her in a way that was foreign to her. Nevertheless, it was pleasure she felt, aided by the wetness and small amount of lunrication provided by the man beforehand. Her ribs expanded and contracted with quickened breaths, her toes curling in anticipation. He was tauntingly slow, and some part of her wished she could reach beneath herself to touch herself, since he wasn’t moving at a pace that would give her the release and pleasure she so desired. She had dreamed for such expertise, and yearned to cry out for him to move quicker. With every thrust came the sound of their flesh hitting one another, a cacophony of visceral, guttural sounds of the throat and physical sounds of true copulation.

    His hands were calloused and rough, one wrapped around her wrists, the other grasping and massaging her ass. She would move against him, a slight squirm, and would become acutely aware of his focus on her skin and how it moved; his thrusts were slowly but surely increasing in pace, beginning to fill the desire that Danielle had from the moment he slid into her. She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed to more solidly focus on the pleasure, her cheek flush against the silken sheets and her skin reddened slightly and sensitive. Her breasts would bounce with every powerful shifting of the man’s hips, swaying with her warming body.
     
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