The moment she admitted the dashing red-haired Knight into her chambers, she knew the balance of power was no longer in her favor.

"Why have you come to me in this manner?" She demanded, ignoring the moisture between her legs.

"I seek only to ensure that the Queen is safe in the King's absence. And I see that she is as lovely and whole as I might ever have hoped." Knight's brown eyes flickered like the candles that burned in the far corners of the room. The breeze from the open window through which he'd entered threatened to extinguish that light.

"Yes, the Queen is quite well, thank you. Is there some reason why you have eschewed the traditional means of entry, namely, the front door of the castle?" She did her best to assume her most haughty demeanor, as if she were addressing a servant. She hoped Knight did not hear the tremor in her voice.

"I sought evening's cloak, my Queen, for my business is not entirely, shall we say, the King's business." He moved closer to her and as he did, she caught a faint whiff of mead on his breath. Combined with the masculine sweat on his brow and the lavender residue of his soap, she found the resulting aroma most alluring. Nevertheless, she ducked away from his advances, retreating back to her bed.

"You'd best depart, Knight," she said after clearing her throat. "I think no good can come of your visit." She sat on the edge of her bed now, believing her implied intention to return to her slumbers would encourage him to leave.

But he approached her with subtle stealth and persistence. The gleam in his eyes was nearly more than she could bear. Just as he bent to put his face near hers, she skittered away with as much grace as her nerves would allow. She stood at the window now, gesturing as if to show him the way out.
 
"I must insist that you leave," she whispered. The cool breeze helped only a little to calm her fiery excitement.

"Tonight, I wish to be insubordinate," he explained quietly. "Tonight, I wish to be in your bed."

He moved like something feral from the forest. Before she
knew what had happened, his strong arm enveloped her waist
while his full lips sprinkled her exposed neck with kisses. When
he felt her swoon, he dipped lower to open her diaphanous
gown to her cleavage.

"My beautiful Queen," he rasped between kisses to her
breasts. "My desire for you burns red with flame. For weeks, you
have filled my thoughts."

"You speak of lustful things," she squeaked. "What right
have you?"

His hand cupped her quim through her gown, making her gasp. "I have the right granted me by the gods of love." His mouth met hers with such a firm softness that her knees ceased to support her. He acted quickly, picking her up and carrying her to the bed. She watched him, bent over her protectively, and wished against all reason that he would not take his leave. She wished other things, too, to which she dared not assign words.

He stepped back and assessed her with worship in his velvety brown eyes. "You are a vision, my Queen. I have pictured you often like this, with your flaxen hair spread about your face, your luscious lips parted as they await my own. Your beauty renders me slightly insane, I fear."

"Must you leave now?"

"No," he smiled affectionately. "I must stay. I must express the passion that has resided in me these many moons." He reached into the deerskin pouch around his waist and withdrew several small lengths of rope. Her eyes widened but she remained quiet, even as he knotted the rope to attach her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. She should have screamed for help, or protested in some way, but suddenly could not recall why.
 
"Is my Queen frightened?"

"No, Knight. My body is yours now. I beg you to pleasure
me."

His firm but graceful hands hovered near her body before they tore the flowing gown from her trembling body. He exposed her so completely, she had to turn her head in modesty.  His touch nearly sizzled against her skin. He stroked her in a long, slow line from her throat to her golden triangle, disarmingly reverent in his movements. When she had the courage to turn her face back to him, she found him staring at her body as if he'd never beheld a woman before.

"Your breasts are the color of milk, my Queen. So very beautiful I deign not mar them with my mouth."
 
"No, please mar them. Suckle at my teat, Knight."

He traced her aureole, the size of a silver coin, with his fingertip. "Even your nipples are perfect in their form. They are so large, so round…" His sentence was interrupted when his mouth became full of her meaty tit flesh.

Her inability to move heightened her pleasure. Not that she would have fought him off, but the fact that she could not increased her desire for him. She did not struggle under her restraints but instead tried to surrender to them – and to him. His hand slid between her legs. She learned when he did that her juices were extravagant and that her readiness was undeniable. He stroked her swollen, downy blonde lips so that her wetness covered his fingers. He deftly located her secret button, caressing it in a manner that made her thighs quiver. She called out when he touched it, prompting him to clamp a swift hand over her mouth.

"I have pleased my Queen, yes?" He paused to confirm, tentatively uncovering her mouth.
 
"Oh, yes, Knight. If you continue thus, I fear I may shout
longer and louder."

He smiled wickedly and unleashed his man-sword. It was a finely sculpted, rock hard piece of flesh, pleasing in shape as well as color, and her hips rose in anticipation of it. He positioned himself between her legs with admirable speed, then entered her dripping hot passageway with one definitive thrust. Again, she called out, but this time he did not attempt to silence her.  He entered her steamy cauldron repeatedly and her womanly scent permeated the room, mixing with the mysterious night air. She longed to wrap her arms around him, claw at his back, fill her hands with his manly derriere.
 But such actions would have to wait until his next visit.

Submitted by  Custom Erotica Source