1. Welcome to Black Dahlia, an adult 18+ roleplaying and writing forum! Don't forget to vote daily for BDRP! The more you vote, the more awesome writers find BDRP, so vote each day! Click here to vote on Top RP Sites, here to vote on RPLovers, and here to vote on RPGFix.
  2. Follow BDRP on all major social media! Tweet at us, Like us, Follow us, Pin our Boards, Reblog us, and check out member Art!
    Dismiss Notice
  3. Looking for more ways to find partners? Check out the Fandom Catalogue and Genre Catalogue!

    Sign up and share what fandoms and genres you are interested in! See who's into the same things you are and give them a shout!
    Dismiss Notice
  4. We are hosting a ton of events this month for Halloween such as Organized RP, Art Challenges, Profile Decorating and so much more to come! Check out all the details by clicking here.
    Dismiss Notice
  5. We have opened applications for 2 moderator positions and we are also looking for community helpers. Check out the application, if you are self-directed and good with people, this might be the right fit for you! Learn more here.
    Dismiss Notice

 NSFW/Explicit  Fantasy Love and Barbarism (myself & Kenny Lovette)

Discussion in 'Roleplay Execution' started by Sexually Liberated Knight, May 31, 2019.

  1. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Not Particularly Chivalrous Member

    Messages:
    40
    Local Time:
    3:23 AM
    A mournful cry signalled the end of the battle. The great wooden doors of a dead man’s great wooden hall juddered open, admitting the cacophonous mirth of a victorious army, and between them stumbled a dishevelled figure – the wife of one of the former jarl. An imposing woman in her own way, she was a Norse beauty with high cheekbones, large lips and piercing blue eyes. Her simple, linen dress was torn around the shoulders so that it fell and bunched around her wide hips, leaving her enormous pale breasts to fly free and bounce together in circular motions with her movements. She fell to her knees, her powerful, musical, thickly Norse voice washing over the tensely nervous occupants of the hall like an ice-cold slap to face. “He is dead,” she announced plainly, face vacant. “They come.”

    Her prophecy was immediately confirmed by a heavy tread ascending the shallow steps behind her – a shadow appeared in the doorway, gazing down upon her interest. A mountainous, bearded shadow, with the loosened flanks of a mail hauberk splayed out beneath his long, thick arms like a magnificent cloak glittering in the receding afternoon light. In his right hand was held an enormous axe – he let it clunk to the ground, leaving a bloody imprint where it landed. He affectionately took hold of the top of the woman's head, his fingers creeping slightly down the back of her neck. “Brenda the Beauty. How many years has it been?” He continued his one-armed journey none-too-subtly over her - she stayed still save for a covert biting of the lip and wrinkling of the nose in response to the heady aroma of battle and lust. The huge warrior lowered himself, working his touch down her back, running through her blonde hair with a strange tenderness and over her garment before terminating the motion with a tremendous clap on the buttocks. She turned, suddenly, looking up into his very close, apologetically burly features - he gave her a savage smile, and let out a booming laugh filled with a strange, warm mirth.

    The rest of the men flooded around him, as if he and his prize were but a rock outcropping in a ravenous ocean of flesh and steel.

    To the big man’s left passed his own warriors, rough and bearded much as he was – they wore short hauberks of mail ending at the knees and elbows and simple helmets which left the face open for leering and shouting. To a man, they kept with them heavy round shields, daubed in a variety of creative and naturalistic designs evoking serpents and vines and old trees. Most were in a partial state of undress even before entering, leaving boots and breeches and weapons lying about as they sought their rewards amongst the densely packed assembly serving girls, village women and noble wives whose shelter had now abandoned them. These ones were the Jarl's men, raiders and thugs by vocation, vikings by birth. They took women openly and freely, unafraid of the sight of one another’s nakedness, and unafraid to share prizes more than one man took a shine to.

    To the man’s right passed warriors of a different sort – they did not rush in, so much as stride forwards as if claiming land for themselves with each step, great longswords scabbarded on ornate belts. Almost every part of their bodies was wrapped in shining silver mail, over which were worn great, dashingly cut coats decorated in precisely simplistic yet overwhelmingly beautiful coloured sigils. They wore helmets with fixed faceplates that gave them a demonic visage as the flickering of the hall’s candles fell across them, accentuating hungry eyes beneath the visors. It was at the head of these men – Knights of the Grand Duchy of Realmguard– that Sir Ancel "Longsword" Amoureux found himself. The inebriating rush of battle and killing pumped through his veins, his mind clouded by the exhilaration of victory. As his eyes fell upon the many beautiful, pale faces of the unprotected women before him, an excitement of another kind welled up in his heart and in his loins. As his comrades carried off their own entertainment, he made one of the most fateful choices of his entire life. He hauled is chosen woman into his grasp, unable to place exactly what it was that had urged him towards her, or even remember exactly what he’d seen of her in his quick glance of her beautiful face and form, beyond those eyes, and what he'd seen in them.

    The knights preferred not to have their fun so publicly, and many disappeared throughout the side passages of the great hall or back outside as the Jarl’s own men did what they did best in a raucous, noisy scrum that subsumed many women side-by-side beneath a wall of pounding muscular bodies and sweaty balls. If there was a singular unified scent that one could call the scent of hard cock, the entire hall reeked to the high heavens of it like nothing else, a conjoined musk that Ancel realized he was contributing no small part to. With a woman draped over his mighty mailed shoulder and a hand firmly cupping her bottom, he made his own way to a place where he might take his reward for the lives he'd ended this day.
     
    • Love Love x 1
  2. Kenny Lovette

    Kenny Lovette Well-Known Member Member

    Messages:
    406
    Local Time:
    1:23 PM
    [​IMG]

    A simple hunt she thought, tracking a deer to add to their meal. Only it wasn't so simple as she ended up circled by men, ones she recognized as the enemy. She dropped one, maybe two with swift arrows until they grabbed her, hauling her back to the jarl.

    This poor woman's name, Aestrid, only child of the jarl Hagmund, soon to be wed to a man of "civility". Though this jarl whom captured her was trying to sabotage the whole affair as his men threw her down to her knees in front of him. She panted, her face adorned in shining perspiration, she spat at the jarl's feet only to have one of his brutes take up her red locks in his hand and yank back on her head, she gritted her teeth but gave no voice to the slight pain. The jarl then smiled.

    Within the week she had been trapped and used by the jarl, he was determined if he defiled her enough she would have his child and her father would suffer. But finally, the week came to end, she could hear the storm of her men and her father, then Brenda, the jarl's wife, her proclamation of her husband's death brought joy to Aestrid. She would get up, knowing she was free when she heard her father bellow, and the feet and grunts and screams and moans that surely followed his army everywhere. She finally broke the binds that held her in the jarl's room. She would catch a glance of a knight before he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, she bit her lip, hoping he could clean her of the dead jarl's touch, and the humiliation of having to deal with such a tiny and unpleasant cock.

    The redhead would take in his scent, her chest heaving as the lust built inside of her. She would go with this man willingly but wasn't arguing he clearly thought her a trophy, which only excited her more. Praying she wouldn't be disappointed when he took his cock out, she wiggled her ass a bit under his hand. "Why so shy knight? Having to carry me off or are you civilized types that passionate with every woman to take?" She asked, she couldn't lie, she is a warrior, she is viking, the battle musk even drove a point into her lustfilled soul. She needed to be satisfied.
     
    • Love Love x 1
  3. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Not Particularly Chivalrous Member

    Messages:
    40
    Local Time:
    3:23 AM
    Jarl Hagmund the Strong, known his friends as Hagmund Hardcock and his foes as Hagmund the Wild, Hagmund the Depraved or to the especially colourful, Hagmund Cockeater, watched Ancel hoist his daughter from the room with one eye, even as he ploughed Brenda on her dead husband's throne. Sir Ancel Amoureux. Sir Ancel "Longsword". Hagmund chuckled - yes, his daughter would enjoy this one.

    Ancel strode out of the chaos of the main room and into the back passages - still, the sounds of lust and the sweet stench of debauchery prevailed, but less powerfully. He carried the woman in his arms past the family bedrooms, past the kitchen and past washroom. He didn't need to turn his head to know what he'd see - his men greedily stuffing Norse women with cock however they desired. It created a chorus of moans and groans, desperate slobbering and that primal sound of clapping flesh.

    After a few moments, they came to a darkened chamber near the end of the hall - the door was closed, and there was no sound from the other side. Ancel opened it, and found it to be empty - it consisted of a few short steps down onto a stone floor, covered with cheap straw mattresses. There was a small, still-burning hearth in the corner - this was the servant's quarters. This is where the house serving girls would huddle together when not called to the jarl's bedroom, making crude jokes and telling stories and gossiping as they awaited their shift. Perhaps they even tumbled with one another from time to time, giggling and moaning and making one another cum in the hay. This room would suffice. Ancel closed the door.

    He descended the brief steps and lay his prize down on the straw, stepping back and away to look at her in the light of the flickering hearth. By hell, she was beautiful - absurdly so. That fiery red hair, those full lips - her dark eyes seemed to dare him on. She looked a little dishevelled - perhaps she'd been a serving girl, he mused. She would've been a favourite of every man in the hall, when they got the opportunity - someone must have raped her before leaving to fight. He knew he probably would have - he was now, wasn't he? The truth, however, eluded his clouded mind.

    He took of his helmet, letting it fall to the ground with a muted thunk. He looked down at her with green eyes. He had a strong knightly jaw, one that looked as if it ought to belong to a chivalrous hero and not a man who thought he was about to rape a serving girl. He possessed that impressive regal sort of nose men of the nobility often did - his looked like it had been broken, and come back stronger. There was a certain discerning curiosity in his gaze, mixed with a powerful desire for the woman he was looking at. His hair was dark and wild, a few strands resting over his brow, which was adorned with a short scar above his right eye. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and flashed a grin."I'm going to fuck you until one of us passes out." He didn't know if she could understand him, but he hoped she felt what it meant.

    He unclasped his sword belt, threw off his cloak, and let his chausses fall away under his hauberk, stepping out of them and towards her. And there it was, thrusting its way out between the split of his mail - a knight's cock, and the source of a truth known to peasant girls across his home fief. Ancel's nickname - "Longsword" - was a double entendre. He was, without a single doubt, worthy of it. No cock was as large as that of Aestrid's father, but Ancel was undeniably one of the few men who came close. The head and underside of his cock were moist from the precum that had escaped while he'd been carrying her about, and even from where he stood it smelled strongly of sheer manhood. Then, he stepped forwards again and crouched in front of her - his member jutting towards her - and grabbed at her breasts greedily.
     
    • Love Love x 1
  4. Kenny Lovette

    Kenny Lovette Well-Known Member Member

    Messages:
    406
    Local Time:
    1:23 PM
    As Aestrid was set down, she looked up at the knight, his helmet finally being removed, he was quite handsome, she slowly lifted and removed the sad clothing she had been stuck in for a week's time. Everything about him was pleasant as she waited, his jawline, his battle scar, but his eyes, the first green of spring's grass finally coming to life from winter is how she could explain it. He flashed a grin which could melt the soul of any maiden, but Aestrid just wondered if she could make him smile more by sitting on his face or riding his cock until his comrades wondered if he died in battle. She didn't understand him well but she most certainly heard fuck and it made her bite her lip as he began to remove more of his battle gear.

    Finally his cock was out, Aestrid was so tempted to get it in her mouth and and drink the musky milk that came from it, but that big of a cock would surely clean the dead jarl from her. She bit her lip as he began to grope her, he knew how to touch a woman unlike the late jarl. It made her miss being home, having a man whenever she pleased, sometimes even when she didn't think she wanted sex. She would reach forward, taking his long and girthy manhood in both hands her one hand stroking the thick bottom vein and the head. She looked up, and urge to kiss him, but she knew he most likely believed he was raping her and probably wasn't up for the small gesture so she simply asked for the other favor. "Please knight, you don't know what I've been through with the jarl, you have to fuck me, make me feel clean and like a woman again with your cock and cum." She pleaded before leaning forward and stealing a kiss anyways. She would then sit back, legs propped up and pussy exposed, even for a viking, her hair below was quite tame and kept to the top, above her little sensitive nub of pleasure. She now hope he understood, she needed him, now.
     
  5. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Not Particularly Chivalrous Member

    Messages:
    40
    Local Time:
    3:23 AM
    As soon as his calloused hands made contact with the smooth flesh of her breasts, he wasn't really a man anymore - he became a beast, a thing of raw, uncomplicated desire. He had a hard cock, and a lovely, warm, naked Norse bitch in front of him. That was all that defined him now. There were was no knighthood, no war, no vows - just the moment, and her. He squeezed and moulded the woman's breasts in his hands, feeling their heat, her smooth flesh, momentarily enraptured by the way they succumbed to his palms. The sudden sensation and sight of her hands move to his manhood and take it up in his grasp caused him to grunt with surprise - the motion was unexpected, but far from unwelcome.

    His thumbs fell across her nipples, pressing against them firmly before retreating to the outside and tracing tight rings around them - he continued this motion, watching intently as she lent in between his arms to plant her kiss atop his shaft. Then she fell back, exposing herself to him that most intimate of ways, and his gaze met hers. It was at that moment that something in back of Ancel's mind began to stir, but he was much too far gone to give it conscious recognition. She was a strange woman, he decided - a wonderful woman. He lowered himself down to all fours, the inner beast reflected, and crawled upon her, sparing a moment to lower his head and drag his tongue from the bottom of the slit between her thighs to the top, then back down again, and then back up, with each stroke applying just a little more force and entering her just slightly, almost as if he was sampling.

    Then, he came face to face with her, pressed his lips violently to hers, and made her taste her own cunt on his tongue.

    The head of his cock came up against her womanhood - without any hesitation, he buried that in her too, straight up to the hilt - like his scabbarded longsword, lying discarded on the ground behind him. And just like that, he held for a few moments, letting her feel his member pulsating within her, exploring her just about as deeply as it was possible to go. Just about.
     
  6. Kenny Lovette

    Kenny Lovette Well-Known Member Member

    Messages:
    406
    Local Time:
    1:23 PM
    The redhead would lay back as he mounted and groped her, his generous laps at her womanhood would cause the most feminine of moans to break past her lips, up and down and dipping inside of her, this was care she had never experienced. Vikings mounted their women like wild dogs. Though he was about to be no exception as his lips clained hers, she couldn't help but moan into the powerful kiss. Then his cock finally plunged into her, he filled her almost as well as her father, he was easily the second biggest cock she had ever had. She pushes against his hands, feeling the rough textured skin glide over her sensitive and soft nipples then continuing to grope and caress her breasts.

    She began to roll her hips as he rested inside of her. She bit her bottom lip as she stared up at him, waiting for his next move. She couldn't help but think of the poor sap she was going to marry was not at all prepared for her like this brave knight was.
     
  7. Sexually Liberated Knight

    Sexually Liberated Knight Not Particularly Chivalrous Member

    Messages:
    40
    Local Time:
    3:23 AM
    By the Lady, it was good. It was more than that - it was devilishly intoxicating. This stunning, flame-haired viking lass was far from the first woman Ancel had ever taken, of course - there'd been peasant girls by the dozen back home, all eager to spite their fathers or their intended grooms by offering themselves to their lord's son in some haystack. There'd been many whores on a whim, everything from exotic courtesans to buxom, penny-grabbing wives who'd tempered the art of wringing a man's cock dry with their mouths to a fine art through years of practised infidelity and salacious bargaining. The very first one had been that big eyed, big-bottomed serving girl he'd been eyeing from the time he'd first developed his taste in women - apparently, she'd been feeling the same way, because she'd snuck into the chapel to keep him company on the night of his spurring. It had been a good night, probably the best introduction to the world of amorous adventure a young knight soon-to-be could ask for, though it had taken some difficulty to kneel back down at the altar the next morning to at least give the appearance he'd had a sincere night of introspective prayer. Ancel had always suspected it'd actually been a hazing ritual of some kind, facilitated by some of the older knights maybe, though he'd never been sure.

    Truth be told, he'd never taken a woman against her wishes before - he'd been looking forward to the experience, actually. The viking warriors he'd discussed it with spoke of it as a kind of savage reckoning, a truly carnal embracing of the inner animal that would lead him to feel in-touch with the inner animal in a way nothing else could. To bring him back to his true nature. To them, it was almost like a summation of everything a warrior was, distilled into one protracted moment of struggle and ecstasy. Ancel realised that whatever they felt, he would not experience tonight. Instead, he was being given something much more powerful by this strange, utterly entrancing woman. Entering her warm, wet, interior, feeling her burning body and looking into those pleading eyes was absolutely the most purely erotic experience of his life - it caged pleasant butterflies in his stomach, causing his lean, muscular arse to tense and making his cock drool inside her. He let himself slip back out of her and hungrily shoved himself back in, his heavy balls pattering softly against the underside of her bottom, and thereby began the rhythm.

    Thump, thump, thump it went. His thick member drilled into her over and over again, his offensive length disappearing beneath that delightfully feminine patch of red that topped off her welcoming womanhood. He looked down - for a moment, he felt a strange sense of detachment from the spectacle, before the warmth and massaging tautness that accompanied it registered in his brain and he became overcome by a transcendental sense of unification with the being in his arms. On an unexpected compulsion, he snaked his hands under her back and pulled her upright and into his lap, giving her a moment of agency over the tempo of their sex while he buried his face behind her ear, rewarding himself with deep breaths of her excitingly unfamiliar scent and occasionally making his way back to plant unrestrained kisses on her cheek.
     
  8. Kenny Lovette

    Kenny Lovette Well-Known Member Member

    Messages:
    406
    Local Time:
    1:23 PM
    This is something Aestrid had truly never experienced, even in his savage tempo, he was tender. She squealed a little as he lifter her to his lap, being on top was only something that happened when she was taking a man out of her own barbaric nature, but he wanted her to ride his thick member like he was a stallion, which she obliged, bouncing fast and bring her hips down to his hard with a loud slap, this only helped drive him deeper. She shivered as he buried his face behind her ear which brought her bounces to a slowed pace. This knight, this civilized man, she could only hope this "lord" she was being forced to marry made her feel half as good as this man did.

    She began to grind into her slow bounces, nuzzling into his neck, one hand found his hair, slowly running through it, her other hand tucked under his arm, resting on his shoulder blade.