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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Archive name: knights.txt (M+/g, rp, ped, v, medieval)
Authors name: Trev (Address withheld by request)
Story title : Foreign Knights, The
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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The Foreign Knights (M+/g, rp, ped, v, medieval)
by Trev (Address withheld by request)
***
Fifteen knights who have come to her father's fortress to
compete in a tourney rape a 12-year-old girl.
***
Ingrid watched in wide-eyed wonder as the hall filled up,
slowly but surely, with strange knights. There seemed to
be no end to them, all these men who had come to joust,
wrestle, and compete in the tourney, which would begin
the next day. At twelve years of age, she had never been
more than a mile from this very hall where she had spent
her entire life, and so she had never truly seen a
stranger before.
Now there were close to sixty strangers in the hall
below, just now sitting down to eat supper at the long
trestle tables Lady Joy, Ingrid's mother, had had brought
out of storage for this occasion. After tonight, and
until the final night of the tourney, the knights would
take their meals in their own tents outside the castle
walls, but tonight they had all been permitted inside,
and Ingrid felt a little shiver of fear run up and down
her spine: it seemed unnatural to allow so many big,
warlike men into the castle.
"Come, Ingrid - you will sup with your nurse in the
lady's bower," said Lady Joy, catching her daughter by
surprise. Ingrid allowed herself to be led away to her
boring supper in the safe, well-lit bower, though sounds
of the feast and revelry from the hall below permeated
even Jonquil Keep's thick stone walls.
Ingrid was awakened that night by a strange sound coming
from her bedroom door. It was a rhythmic scratching
sound. She could still hear the sounds of the feast from
the hall - it would go on until dawn or until the last
partygoer collapsed in exhaustion.
Curious, she went to her door and opened it to find her
little pet dog outside, looking bedraggled and miserable,
wagging its tail at the sight of her. And then Ingrid saw
that the very end of the little animal's tail was gone -
cut off! As with a knife or a sword!
She gasped in outrage. Immediately she comprehended that
some drunken knight below stairs had sought to make a
game of wounding the innocent little animal, and she was
enraged.
Dressed in nothing but her nightshift, a thin gown of
pale yellow linen, the little blond twelve-year-old
dashed down the corridor and the stairs, and burst into
the main hall.
Most of the people she found there were asleep, lying
along wood benches by the walls. None of her brothers,
her mother, her father, or even the usual knights she had
grown up with at Jonquil were in evidence. In fact, the
only ones still awake were a collection of perhaps ten
large knights sitting near the hearth, still drinking and
laughing loudly.
Ingrid stalked right up to them and exclaimed, "How dare
you harm my puppy!"
A big knight with dark black stubble lining his square
jaw lurched to his feet and stared down at her while the
others fell silent, gazing at her intently.
"Your puppy?" he said.
"Aye! Someone has cut off the end of his tail!"
"Ah," said the knight, slowly, "it sometimes happens at a
feast such as this one. I know how to make it grow back
again."
"You do?" Ingrid blinked in surprise.
The knight nodded. "Is that the dog you mention?" He
pointed at the puppy, which had followed her down into
the hall. Ingrid nodded.
The man said, with a smile, "You must trust me, young
lady, to know what to do. You have the power within you
to heal the animal, but it must be me who helps you. Will
you do as I say?"
"Aye, of course," said Ingrid, excitedly. She did not
think anything was amiss when the man instructed her to
climb up on the wood table and lie down on her back with
her legs dangling over the side. She did feel a little
hesitation when he told her she ought to pull her
nightgown up to her waist and spread her legs, but she
suspected that the knight came from a far off land - he
had a Norman accent - and might know some kind of magic
that she had never heard of.
Very gently, while the other knights around them watched
and smiled silently, the big knight picked up the
squirming puppy and gently began to poke the slightly
bloody end of the little dog's tail between her legs. It
tickled and felt strange, and stung a little, but Ingrid
lay still as she felt the end of the dog's tail gently
poking into the entrance of her tiny little cunt.
The knight sighed and said, "If you were a grown woman,
this would work. But you are just a child, and your
little cunt produces no wetness to heal the animal."
"Oh, no," said Ingrid, feeling as if she might cry. "Is
there a way to make my cunt wet? Or should we go find my
mother and ask her to heal the puppy?"
The knight smiled benevolently, and put the puppy down on
the floor. He stepped between Ingrid's spread legs, took
her by the hips, and drew her towards him, until her soft
little pussy was pressed against the cold smooth metal of
his codpiece. He began to rub his codpiece against her
cunt by slowly grinding his hips at her, and he said
quietly, "I can make your cunt wet, little one."
Ingrid began to feel fear. Immediately she knew that the
big knight meant to rut her - she had seen her own father
and brothers rape village girls and servant girls before
- seen the act from a distance, and knew what it meant.
She said softly, "No, I do not want to."
"Do you not wish to heal your puppy?" the big knight
breathed, slipping his hand between her legs and gently
feeling her soft little cunt with his big, blunt fingers,
spreading open her tender pussylips and caressing her
bare little mound with his palm.
Ingrid said in a hesitant voice, "Aye, I wish to heal
him."
"Then you must let me put my wetness in your cunt, little
girl. Then we shall put the puppy's tail in you, and it
will heal, and when he grows to be a big dog, he will be
loyal to you and only you, forever."
The thought was sweet indeed. Ingrid nodded slowly, but
she shivered when she heard the men around her begin to
rise from their seats. The knight between her thighs
continued to caress her pussy, gently poking one
fingertip into her tight little opening, as the other men
came to stand around the table, blocking out much of the
firelight.
The big knight was breathing heavily as he removed his
hand and began to grind his codpiece against her once
more. Ingrid was a little surprised to feel a hint of
tingling heat in her cunt, deep inside, and a little
moisture, too.
The knight once more began to feel her hairless, bare
little mound with his fingers while he undid his codpiece
and let it fall away. Ingrid stared up at the ceiling and
heard the knight whisper, "Some of that chicken fat, if
you please, Willard."
The knight lathered the fat onto his hugely bloated cock.
The veins on it were standing out, the head a dark purple
with need. The other knights watched in tense, needy
silence as he slowly spread the little girl's tiny
pussylips open, revealing her soft slit and tiny hole. As
one, they breathed in when he set the hot, fat head of
his cock against her tiny hole and began to push inside
of Ingrid's love sheath.
Ingrid bit her lip and moaned when she felt the knight
begin to force his hot, heavy rod up into her tight
channel. She felt every bump and gnarled vein on the hard
shaft as it began to penetrate her tiny opening, tearing
her skin a little. The knight moaned too, feeling the
tight little girl cunt clamping and clenching in protest
around the head of his cock as he began to force it into
her.
The sight was incredible - the little blond girl, biting
her lip, shivering and beginning to cry, her slender,
pale thighs spread wide to accommodate his hips, her
hairless slit split by his red, swollen cock that was
slowly, by degrees, moving deeper up inside of her body.
With a groan, he could no longer stand to be gentle. He
gripped her buttocks tightly, tilting her hips up towards
him, and rammed into her with all of his weight, his cock
pressing through her hymen and in one vicious thrust
penetrating her to her cervix. He barely even heard her
scream - he was in heaven, a tight hot cunt-sheath
gripping and milking his cock as a slender little body
writhed in agony beneath him.
The knight began to pound Ingrid, holding her steady
beneath him as he slid his hot hard cock repeatedly in
and out of her bleeding, slick, soft little pussy. He
threw his hips against her over and over again, grinding
his coarse pubic hair against her bald little mound with
every thrust, until finally he could take no more. He lay
down on her, crushing her against the table, and humped
into her with fierce grinding thrusts, spearing her over
and over again with his rod, until finally he jammed in
as deeply as he could go and held there, unleashing his
cum into her spasming cunt-sheath, spurting into her
heavily four or five times until he had drained his
clenching balls into her shuddering body.
When he drew himself out of her, another knight was
there. Silently, the new knight penetrated the sobbing
twelve-year-old, and immediately began to saw his thick,
filthy cock rapidly in and out of her wet little pussy.
When he came in her, he bit her shoulder and mauled her
tiny little breasts with one hand while he ground his
hips against her in rhythmic little circles, spraying her
cervix with a hot heavy coating of semen.
Fifteen knights unloaded themselves into her poor little
cunt during the night. Fifteen big, sweaty, dirty men
plowed her soft young pussy with their hard rods, some of
them taking her two or three times before collapsing in
exhaustion. But they all ejaculated in her, and their
moans of pleasure filled the hall, long after her sobs
had waned to sniffles and then to silence as she fainted
and became nothing more than a warm body to be raped over
and over again.
Ingrid's mother found her daughter unconscious on the
table in the morning, her nightgown gone, her small body
smeared in cum and blood, a mixture of those elements
seeping heavily from between her ravaged, swollen
cuntlips.
At the end of the tourney, all the knights returned to
the hall to take their final meal there before departing.
Lady Joy poisoned the meat, the soup, and even the bread.
She killed her husband, thirteen women, and sixty-seven
men. Years later, she and Ingrid would agree that justice
had been done.
END
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not "real life." Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 18