0 comments/ 46803 views/ 6 favorites Breaking The Chains By: Nicadaemus A thick fog falls over Londonium, and wisps of mist dance down the alleys and avenues like phantoms chasing away the daylight. Ahead of me looms the Tower, the most dreaded dungeon in all the land of Brytannia. Perhaps no other place besides Hell has known as many suffering souls, and it's halls have been the last that many have walked. I stop and stand in the shadows of the Dance Floor. The gallows, where a dozen arms tower above and crook down, a noose run through their metal loop, threaded back to a wench. A wench that is slowly drawn tight, raising the victim from the worn wooden boards beneath and leaving him to dance in the air gasping for breath. Many such executions have I witnessed, and many prisoners have I stood final watch over. Tonight, my commander has summoned me forth for such a vigil again. His details were sparse, only that a member of the Radz was to be executed at dawn, and rumors had it that a band of the rebels was going to make an effort to storm the Tower. It would no doubt be a suicide mission, but one can never underestimate their guile and resourcefulness. Sometimes I thought them in a way similar to me: rebels battling an establishment that had abandoned traditional convention, the way of the sword and the spell, to embrace the double evils of gunpowder and steam. I have never held a musket in my hands, nor ever sought passage on a train. I prefer my sword and my steed, and to myself, think the world would be a better place if our Queen were to possess the same wisdom. I waste no more time, wrapping my heavy cloak tight around me to ward off the growing chill of the night, my left hand resting on the pommel of my sword so that should any wiley cutpurse think he can take me, he might reconsider. The watchmen at the portcullis of the Tower raise the gate quickly as I approach, as the last dying rays of sunlight reflect off the gold badge at my chest: a blazing sun with one eye staring outwards. The badge of Her Majesty's Divine Order of Retribution. Elite knights that have not abandoned the code that has protected the sovereigns of Brytannia for centuries. A guide quietly falls in step in front of me, leading me deep down into the bowels of the Tower. I have never seen it's deepest dungeon, and legends say it's catacombs run for miles. Many speak of having seen and heard spectres of long dead occupants wandering the environs. I have never had such an experience. The deeper we go, the more putrid the odors become. The musty smell of mold, sweat, piss and excrement at first. Then death and decay. I walk as briskly as the guide allows, my boots clicking loudly on the stone floor. Suddenly we stop, and I realize I am not sure how far we have travelled as my mind has wandered. Wandered to the many faces I have seen breathe their last breath at the end of a noose. The guide's key turns loudly in the rusty lock, and I step into the cell. Only a single torch burns within, and my commander, Owain turns towards me, the dim light glinting on his gold shoulder epaulets. "Donovan," he says heartily, shaking my hand in a firm embrace. His weathered features are framed by a salt and pepper beard. "I am glad you could undertake this task." I nod, curiously looking around for the prisoner, "Always at your service sire." He nods in return as well, stepping to the side and turning, letting the light shine further into the room. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but when they do, I find myself surprised at the prisoner I see shackled to the far wall. It is a young woman, naked. Her skin is fair, and the slightly pointed ears and almond shaped eyes tell me that some elven blood courses through her veins. Her breasts are small and upturned with dark nipples, her hips slender and legs long. But what catches my attention the most is the total lack of hair between her legs, as if for some reason, she shaved it away. I look up and realize her dark brown eyes are regarding me curiously, obviously having noted my interest at her unusual grooming. I quickly turn back to Owain. "This is the dangerous prisoner?" "Aye my loyal knight. She is a witch. Her and her companions cast a ritual on the tracks North of Browburg so that when the train passed over them, they writhed like snakes." He shakes his head in disgust, shooting the girl a poisonous look. "But they got more than they bargained for. Instead of gold onboard, it was a troop carrier, and all of them were wiped out but her, despite their magic." I nodded, looking back at her again. "Don't worry though Donovan. Without her runes and poltices and other talismans, she is powerless." "Yes. But do you think they will try to save her?" Owain laughs loudly, clasping me on the back, "The Radz are as unpredictable as the seas of the North Cape! But we shall be prepared, come what may. Remember, use your sword on her first, then any that would dare to save her." "I understand." "Good, " he says as he steps towards her. "You will dance at dawn witch," and he spits in her face. Her tongue flicks out as quick as a serpent's, licking away the saliva that drips down her cheek. When she speaks, there is something musical to her voice, and it carries the lilt of the High Elves of the Emerald Isle, now laced with bitterness, " I taste your fear knight. One day soon, your sword will fail you and our carcass will feed the vultures." For a moment his eyes narrow, and he seems to be about to say something, but quickly he turns on his heel, knocking for the guide to let him out. He leaves without any further word, and following the clatter of the lock again, only silence reigns. I take off my cloak and hang it on a peg near the door. As I turn, I find her regarding me. Her eyes are a deep dark brown, and her head is tilted to the side in curiosity. Despite the dirt that covers her, and the whelps from where they have lashed her with a scourge, she still remains beautiful. Strikingly so. For a moment, I imagine the noose around her neck, stretching it beyond it's natural length as she gasps and kicks on the Dance Floor. I decide I shall not stay to witness tomorrows execution unless I am asked. "Sir knight," she speaks softly. I find that I have been looking at her for some time, for how long I am not sure, a bit mesmerized by her alabaster skin, raven hair, and gentle curves. Something a knight should not do, yet of which I am guilty. "My name is Sena." I nod, "I am Donovan." "Donovan..." she says my name as if she is tasting it, letting it roll over her tongue, and she shuts her eyes and says it softly once more, a chill creeping over my flesh. "Donovan..." Her eyes slowly open again. "Isn't it true, Donovan, that a prisoner destined for the gallows is granted one last wish?" "Within reason, " I point out. "Of course." I wonder what ruse she may be playing, or if it is part of some grand plot to initiate an escape attempt by her companions. "I want you to grant me my final wish my brave knight." I search her words for sarcasm, but find only sincerity in them, and I step forwards, my curiosity peaked. "And that is?" She pauses a moment, her eyes wandering over me, almost hungrily, "Fuck me." For a moment I am stunned by her request. And then a feeling of excitement fills me, and I feel myself growing hard at the thought. My duties are many, and my time is limited. I cannot remember the last time I held a woman near me. And then I feel anger, "Temptress!" I say, "You mock me." As I start to turn, I hear a pleading in her voice. "I do not jest knight. I would have asked your commander, but he is a coward, another worm of the Queen's court. But you are different." I shake my head, "I am no different. I took the same oath as he, and wield my sword in service to Her Majesty." She smiles, and it is a warm and comforting smile, despite her impending doom. I find I cannot turn away now. "You spoke the words of the oath, but they are no longer in your heart." "Yes, they are." "As you say. Will you grant me my wish then, and uphold the law of the land?" I shake my head again, "I cannot do this. It is a perversion...impossible." "But it is my wish. I want to feel a man inside me one last time before I die. A real man like you Donovan." I turn my back, "Enough! How can you ask such of me? I am a knight." "I ask because it is your wish as well. When you first laid eyes upon me, you wanted to fuck me. I could see it in you, hear it in the words you didn't say." "You are a witch." "I am damned Donovan. Give me one last wish." I turn back to her, ready to denounce her, deride her, to spit upon her and slap her, to call her a slut and a traitor. But her soft brown eyes stare back at me pleadingly. "You want to know Donovan. You want to know why I shaved myself. You want to know how it feels to kiss my bare pussy don't you?" I try to think of something to say, but my tongue does not obey. It is hard to breathe and feels as though my throat has constricted, as if I am the one in the noose. I suddenly realize what she says is true. And I must decide, what I shall do. "Do it my knight, please, taste me..." And before I truly realize it, I am on my knees before her, my lips pressed to her clitoris, feeling the smoothly shaven flesh there, kissing its warmth. Her deep moan raises goosebumps on my flesh and my hands slide slowly up her long legs, grasping her ass tightly. She presses against me, wrapping one leg around my shoulders, pulling me closer as I plunge my tongue inside her, tasting her warmth. She is a chalice, and I drink from her, her magic filling me. She undulates against me, grinding herself into my face as I force my tongue deeper into her, tasting her desire. "Donovan..." she gasps, "..fuck me." I stand, dropping my sword to the floor as I unfasten my breeches. I look down into her eyes, and they burn like two embers, beckoning me to take her. There is no dungeon, no straw on the floor, no cold stone walls. Just me and Sena. I wrap my arms around her slender waist and pull her to me. My lips seek hers, and she kisses me deeply, her tongue thrashing against mine in wild passion. She presses her hips to me, and I reach down, cupping her ass in my hands again, lifting her slightly from the floor. As I slide into her, her back arches, and she impales herself on my dick even further, wrapping her long legs around my back and locking her ankles together. "Yes," she moans. "Fuck me hard. Ravage me Donovan, take me." I thrust as hard as I can, and her lips part in a scream, a scream of both pleasure and pain as her tight pussy is violated even deeper by my length. Her hands thrash in the shackles, balled into fists, her knuckles white. Her dark hair brushes my face, and it is soft and intoxicating. Suddenly, her lips are at my ear, their touch like the wings of a butterfly, "Donovan...when you cum...please...drive your dagger into my heart...spare me...from the gallows...give me the death I want." Her words fill me with even more desire, and I find myself slamming harder into her, her ass smacking against the wall, the chains rattling loudly, her moans echoing in the cell. I feel the intensity build inside me, and then I am spilling myself inside her, cumming and then cumming again, shouting as loud as a cry in battle, my hands sliding up the smooth skin of her back, my dick impaling her so deeply, like a spear driven deep inside her. She shudders against me, convulsing in her orgasm. And then her legs slide from around me, and she slumps on the floor, breathing heavily. She turns away from me, staring back down at the straw that litters the room, "Donovan...you did not give me my wish..." I buckle my breeches, the white hot fire of ecstasy still coursing through my veins. "Nay," I say, reaching for my sword and drawing it from my scabbard. She looks up, for a moment, fear crossing her features, then a smile as she closes her dark eyes. I raise the sword, and I swing it with all my might, for it must cleave true in one hit. The impact jars my whole body, and the clang of the shackles is deafening. They fall to the floor, cut by my sword. Sena opens her eyes, looking at her freed hands. "Donovan?" "We must hurry if we are to get you from here before it is too late." Quickly she stands, pressing her naked body to mine. "Donovan...they will hang you for such a crime...you will no longer be a knight, but a pariah." I think a moment, realizing it is not too late. I could kill her now and be done with it. But I sheathe my sword, "To Hell with them." She nods as I step to the door, pulling down my cloak. I toss it to her and she wraps it around her lithe form. I pound on the door and a guard opens it. "Sir?" and suddenly the pommel of my sword smashes into his jaw. "Come Sena." She slides her small hand into my free one, and the touch of her warm flesh against mine summons a shiver to me again. We make our way quickly up the hall, my boots a staccato click, and her bare feet a whisper on the ancient stones. No one challenges us again. I am....was...a Knight of Her Majesty's Order of Divine Retribution. As we reach the stables where I left my mount, I tear my badge off and toss it into a trough. She looks at me as if to say "Are you sure?" and I answer by spurring my horse. As we gallop down the streets of the city, I wonder how long it will be until the alarm is sounded. But we safely make it through the main gates and onto the road leading from Londonium. They will come I have no doubt, and I wonder what I may have done. At once I am frightened but elated. I stop a moment and look over my shoulder at her, the moonlight reflecting on her pale skin, dancing in her dark eyes. "Sena?" "Yes my knight?" "What if your friends come for you tonight?" She laughs, and it is music, chimes singing in a summer breeze. "Donovan. They were never coming. They sent me for you." And we ride into the night. Breaking The Chains So tonight, I'm taking the plunge. No more excuses. Mirror check. Let's get this show on the road... Tossing modesty aside, I bend, pushing my behind up into the air and grip the ankle cuffs of my shiny new patent leather heels. I lean my back into the coolness of the full-length wall mirror in our bedroom and watch him through my bare, open legs. I know this should be a great angle from which to appreciate my naughty bits. No holds barred. I went all out. I'm wearing a sheer, silver g-string so tiny it barely covers the fullness of my vulva- and that's all there is between him and me. Well, that and the matching bra... I'm going to take a chance and wiggle just enough to bury these panties in my slit. My silver platform shoes offer little traction. Poorly practiced and fearing a fall, I plant my hands firmly on the ground. My long, freshly done curls splay across the floor puddling around my shoes. He shifts in his chair a little, smiling and then rests the rum & coke I gave him on the ground. He's quiet now, not talking so much as before. I think he likes it... I surmise he's retreated into that familiar silence that heralds the first stirrings of sexual arousal. I sway gently; I see that his eyes are transfixed on my breasts that have tumbled from my silver lace bra to rest softly against my chin. Feigning as much confidence as I can muster, I ignore their slight sag and rub my large nipples and wide brown areolae. He leans forward slightly in his chair. With lowered eyes, I bite my lip and then give him a quick, seductive wink. I close my eyes. Gee, I hope he's not looking at my asshole. I adjust my G-string slightly. It's way too bright in here... The blood is rushing to my head now. I slowly straighten up, my back still to him. I run my fingers through my hair, and then shake my head from side to side so that it brushes my narrow, high ass. I unhook my bra and still holding it to me, free one arm at a time as I slowly turn to face him. Still self-conscious about the excess weight and fading stretch marks crisscrossing my belly, I suck it in and with eyes focused squarely at the top of his head, saunter over to his chair. I straddle him and let my breasts spill from my bra onto his face. I can't let him see me blushing; I've got to be smooth... I intend to put on quite a show tonight. He chuckles when I gently bounce my bosom against his cheeks. I let him drink in my sweet perfume. I feel his fingers circling my waist, pulling me so close that I can feel his warm breath against my neck. His kisses are like quicksilver, difficult to contain; I tilt my head to one side, giving him freer access. I press my fingers into the softness of his hair and breathe him in, crowning him with soft kisses. Ah bless him, I can see a few grey strands now. I remember when it was all brown... He fishes for a nipple with the only lips I have ever kissed. He glances up at me, seeking silent confirmation. I keep still and let him tongue them, even though they are still sensitive from nursing our twins that were weaned some months ago. I know how much they give him pleasure. He doesn't stop until my nipples are erect and slick with his saliva. I look down at him and watch him plant kisses all around my areolae, as he palms my breasts. He looks up into my eyes, searching. I know he's silently hoping that tonight I will finally let him make love to me for the first time since our twins arrived. I quietly tell him that I'm ready now, that I won't deny him anymore. He looks deep into my eyes before pulling my face to his. No...not yet, I still want to perform for you... I want to make it up to you... I feel his hands close on either side of my head, his fingers laced into my hair. His eyes are closed now. I can't help but close mine, too. I feel him slip his tongue over my lips and into my mouth ever so gently. I slip my arms about his neck and kiss him back until I cannot tell where his breath ends and mine begins. Even now, years later, when he does me like this, each pass of his lips makes me tremble. He's breathing harder now. I grip his waist with my thighs and blaze a trail of kisses from his lips, down his neck to the first button on his shirt. I undo all the buttons, place my hands inside and caress his shoulders, easing it off his body. I tug at the sleeves, none too gracefully. He senses I'm unwilling to relinquish control just yet and eases his arms out, placing them at his side. I put my hand under my ass and search his lap. His cock is stiffening. I close my fingers around his cock, searching his face. His smile is gone. All that remains is a sweet grimace. Damn, I miss you! Its been so long... As I sit on his lap, I spread my legs wider and undulate my hips. I gently bounce on his cock. He moans and forgetting his restraint, crushes my hips into his, grinding me hard. He whispers that he wants me. I say nothing, only brush my lips against his ear and taking his hand, tentatively hook his fingers into the crotch of my panties. His fingers dance over my clit until one finally separates my inner labia and slips unexpectedly inside me. I breathe in sharply; pleasure engulfs me. I pull his fingers away and press them to his lips. I notice how wet they are. A moan escapes my lips as he takes them into his mouth. I climb off his lap and kneel before him. I fondle his cock through the fabric of his pants, spilling my hair across his thighs. I can feel him quivering beneath me. His cock is straining his pants. He tries to take it out. I ask him to let me do it. He relents and throws his head back. His hands have left my body to become tight fists at his side. I stroke the length of his cock slowly, gingerly working the head until I can see precum welling at its tip. I dart my tongue into it, boldly tasting my man. When I close my mouth over the tip of his cock, and draw lazy circles on it with my tongue, he groans. I sense his struggle. I know he wants so desperately to lie between my thighs, bury his cock inside me and flood me with his warmth. He is moaning my name over and over. He says he loves me. I pause to tell him that I love him, too. This is for you, baby... I give his cock one last kiss. I then stand, turn my ass to him and bend bringing my head close to my knees. The sheer fabric of my panties is soaked through and transparent against my vulva. I slowly peel my g-string over my hips and ass. I so badly want him to see it all- just not with my face flushing red at the same time. Composed again, I turn to face him, naked except for my heels. I toss him my wet panties with a sheepish grin. Without a word, he snatches them from the air and flings them aside. I hear him swallow. I wish he would say something. I squat, knees apart in front of him, to give him a vulgar eyeful of my protruding clit. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and park my inhibitions. I stroke my inner thighs with my fingertips, inching closer and closer to my pussy. I know this is something he's always wanted. My heart is thundering in my chest. I feel so self-conscious, so silly, so on display. I am afraid to open my eyes. Do good girls do this? My thighs are tired from squatting in the heels. I lay on the carpet, right in front of his chair. With lowered eyes, I open up for him, propping my legs apart with my elbows stripper style. There. My treasures have been laid bare before him. He asks if I am ok with all this. I tell him yes, just horribly shy. He reaches down to pull me up. I resist, but gratefully accept his offer of dim lamplight. He joins me on the floor and takes me into his arms. He takes off my shoes and says they are nice, but that I don't need them. He holds and reassures me. I reach down to put my hand between my thighs and then I feel his hand close over mine. Even within his arms, I feel safer still in the sanctity of the darkness that my closed eyes provide. I try to shut out all my imperfections and the inner moral compass that bind me. I want to let go so badly... I lean back into his arms and together we slowly explore my vulva. He rests his chin on my head. Our fingers slide easily through my wetness over each fold and crevice. He kisses my neck and my shoulders through tender whispers, and strokes my breasts. His hands come to rest on the softness of my belly. I fight the urge to push them away. I am not sure if I am comfortable with this new body as yet. Eventually, he leads my fingers to my bud and holds them there until my tension melts away. With my index finger in hand, he strums me, ever so gently. My wetness pours out of me. I moan and melt into him, my pleasure slowly overtaking my shame. He moves his hands back to my breasts, toying with my nipples. I shudder against him, straining against my hand. My eyes are still closed, but this time instead for need of him. I want him so much. I love him so much. He takes hold of my hair and twists it on top of my head so that he can kiss the nape of my neck. He calls me his baby and says I turn him on in ways that I could never imagine. He tells me my body has given him gifts so precious that they give him reason to live. He keeps whispering that I should let go. He says he wants me to come like this. With a breast in each hand, he works my nipples. He rains kisses into my hair. As I lean into the warm dampness of his chest, I can feel his rigid cock against my back. I turn to him, telling him I want him now. I beg him to take me. He says he wants me to claim it myself. He tells me I'm almost there and closes his hand over mine once more upon my clit. I tremble. I feel it coming like a runaway train. I arch my back into our hands, easing my ass up off the floor, straining. I want it so badly. He slips a finger into me making me spasm. I groan and slide onto it as far as I can. I hump that finger not caring how I look as I shamelessly find a rhythm and play my clit to the tune of it. I arch my back off the ground and whimper my pleasure. My climax soon slams into me. I convulse in frenzy on his finger, pressing in on my clit for dear life until the tremors subside. I want you inside me... I want to be close to him. So very close. I want to feel his body against mine, hold him between my legs, and feel him move in and out of me. I want to send him so high. I feel lightheaded. Still lying in his arms, I ask him again to take me. He cups my cheek and kisses my lips so sweetly. He tells me I am his angel and he asks me how I feel. I laugh and say winded. Then quickly add, complete. He says he has craved this connection for so long. He tells me that my letting go means that I have finally given myself to him. He takes my hand and puts it on his cock. It feels like granite. Take meeee... He lays back and indicates that he wants me on top. He holds his cock straight for me. I slowly impale myself on the love of my life. I ride him gently, as he thrusts up into me. His hands grip my waist and his eyes pierce mine with every stroke. I feel at peace basking in his attentions. I sit up straight and proudly ride his cock. I refuse to cower in an attempt to cover my belly and my breasts that no longer have the same snap they once did. I proudly wear my motherhood and rejoice in my body that has given life. I feel free. I come again. I ask him how he feels. No answer. His restraint is gone. He is groaning under me with every stroke. I match his stride until he flips me over and takes the top. Freedom... He is riding me now. I pull my legs up as far as I can, so as not to restrict him in any way. He slams his body into mine with wanton abandon. I relish it and yield to his exertions. I thought he freed me. It seems I have liberated him, too. I love this man more than life itself- the father of my children, my life's partner till the end. I never want this to end. I want him to pour his seed into me. I want him to hold me forever. I reach up to brush his sweaty brow. He does not notice. He strokes have slowed and deepened. He is about to come. I beg him to give it to me. I want all of him. I move my hands down his back to his ass. His asscheeks are tense. He groans and pulls back, almost withdrawing, then pummels his hips into mine, sending reams of his seed deep inside me. His climax is violent. I hold onto him until he trembles no more.