Knight Saves a Slut from a Dragon

The broken castle sat like a shadowy silhouette against the pale morning sun. The faded, light blue banner of a house long deceased flapped faintly in the calm breeze. Within one of the windows on the top floor, a pale streak of silver hair flashed. The lady, Sir Tristan Redmond thought rather glumly. Once the prospect of rescuing a scared damsel kidnapped by bandits, goblins, trolls, or a dragon, would have excited him. But it was all getting a little old now.

Always, in the vast Holy Kingdom of Solthir, some princess, duchess, countess, baroness, or humble lady was getting kidnapped, and always, they sent some lowly lackey like Sir Tristan to go rescue them. Why? Because poor roaming knights like him worked for honor, in the silent hope they might be rewarded with land or a fief in the court of some lord. It would be too expensive hiring mercenaries or a bounty hunter to do it, and since Tristan was in the employ of a poor Baron, he expected little reward for this endeavour, but reputation was everything in this land, and he had to do his duty no matter what.

It was said the lady Katrina was a beautiful maiden, with hair of molten silver and a face that could've been chiselled by the finest sculptor in the land. "The lords always say that about their daughters," Tristan muttered to himself, wondering if anyone could be that beautiful, but he would find out soon enough. He spurned the reins of his chestnut mare, and she clopped along the dusty road. Over a grassy hill, a path winded through a small forest of pines until he got to the bridge that led to the castle.

The bridge led over a moat that had long dried, and he stared longingly at the broken keep looming over him. Chunks of the grey stone were missing as though they were torn apart by cannon fire, and soft green moss grew between the cracks of the bricks still intact. How did a lady get stuck here?

Still, the castle itself held his interest more at the moment. Tristan pictured such a keep restored with pristine white stone, with the flamboyant banners of his own house flapping from every watchtower triumphantly in the wind. If he killed the dragon that had taken the lady today, he may take a dragon for his sigil, if the baron would reward him with some land. Lord Tristan Redmond, the lowly knight thought to himself. It had a nice ring to it.

Snapping himself out of the fantasy, he got to surveying his surroundings. The grass beneath him bristled in the light breeze, but it was too quiet. Where was the dragon?

"Are you my saviour?" a woman's voice called playfully from the high window, and he looked up, noting the lady Katrina looking down at him with a smile on her face. She seemed oddly relaxed. But the knight saw that the tales of her beauty were not exaggerated, she was indeed a fine woman. A smooth round face with all the beauty youth bestowed, hair so silver it was almost pure white, and a pair of lush grey eyes that blinked with sunlight.

The knight frowned. "Keep your voice down, you may rouse the dragon! Where is it?"

She giggled, twirling her hair. "I didn't expect you to be so handsome."

He allowed himself to grin, but then got stern again. "Enough now, I need to slay the monster and get you back to your father."

The lady Katrina rolled her eyes. "I heard it crawl behind the castle earlier, just around that corner by the broken watchtower."

Sir Tristan inspected the area with a watchful eye. "Stay where you are, I will deal with it." He'd only dressed in light leather armour. That's the trick to fighting dragons, and where many more amateur warriors went wrong. The amateurs wore full plate, thinking it would protect them against a dragon, but that's a fast way to be roasted alive, and for the plate that's supposed to protect you to be turned into a furnace. Armour makes one slow, clunky, with a limited range of movement--good when fighting other men, bad with a larger, fire breathing beast. No, he needed to be nimble, to dash and sway at a moment's notice. And to not be cooked alive in his own armour.

He drew his sword and dismounted his horse, leaving the calm steed a safe distance away from where the battle would take place.

A low grumble sounded from the watch tower. Tristan stopped and drew his steel. How big would the beast be? Dragons varied in size significantly. Based on the stomping footsteps, he estimated it to be a smaller dragon. Had it been so big, no doubt it would have flown over the castle and dropped right behind him.

He waded carefully around the watchtower.

"What strong arms you have!" the lady cheered playfully with that soft voice of hers. He didn't respond.

Tristan's clean sword glinted under the sunlight as he snuck around the broken tower, stepping softly on the grass below. In a flash, two jaws leaped at him around the corner, snapping shut with a loud crack just as he lurched back in the nick of time, falling on his back.

The dragon slithered around the corner. Ah, a Southern Ridgeback, Sir Tristan thought with relief. These were smaller (though still dwarfed any man), flightless dragons, and had an appearance resembling more a crocodile rather than the terrifying mythic beasts of the north. Two stubby wings sprouted from its shoulders, only good for swatting away flies, four chunky scaled legs carried its girthy, long body across the ground. It's snout was the most intimidating thing about it. A long, powerful jaw with rows of razor-sharp teeth that could crush the body of an ox with ease, two little amber eyes, and a body armoured with grey scales. The beast was still formidable, but a rather tame dragon in comparison with its cousins. How such a creature could capture and guard the daughter of a baron he would never know, but he would ponder that once the beast was dead.

It bellowed at him, a grumble that sounded like a massive toad, and a spark lit at the back of its throat before the stream of blistering hot fire spurted from its mouth. Tristan, fully prepared, leaped out of the way, letting the heat of a hundred bonfires glaze over his skin. Using the dragon's fat body to his advantage, he dashed around to the middle of it and struck the joints of its legs.

"Very good!" Katrina cheered from her window, clapping her hands.

He shot a scowl at her as he struck the other leg and the beast roared. Was this all just theatre for her?

Blood spurted from the weak point between its scales, and the dragon lashed around, trying to snap at him with that long snout, but it was too slow. Tristan leaped on the beast's back, ran up to the point where the spine met the skull, and drove his sword straight through it. In an instant, the whole dragon went stiff with a meek whimper and then fell limp to the ground, its fat tongue protruding from its jaw.

"Wow," the lady Katrina gasped from her window. "I've never seen a dragon slain so quick."

Now Tristan allowed himself to blush, looking up at the pretty woman. "I aim to please."

A sly smirk cut across her face, and she brushed a lock of silver hair behind her ear. "Is that so?"

The victorious knight jumped off the scaly corpse, cleaning his sword, and made his way to the front of the broken castle. Little did he know, the true fight was about to begin. "Come on down, and I'll get you away from here."

The lady laughed. "I'm afraid I'm locked in here, you'll have to come and get me."

He found the playful way in which she spun those words curious. She reminded him of the sort of serving wenches who would flirt with him in taverns late into the night, and admittedly, it was getting his blood rushing. I must keep my honor, he thought, pushing any dirty thoughts aside. He was about to hand her back to her father, after all, and her father would want her unbesmirched. There were larger prizes at stake, and he reminded himself of the castles, lands, and peasants he wanted to one day rule over. "How do I get to you?" he yelled.

"Through the main doors, down the hall, up the stairs, and down the corridor straight to the right."

Sir Tristan nodded and made his way through the decrepit castle. It was a tip. Matted, filthy torn rugs, tapestries crumped gathering dust in the corners, and ornaments covered in cobwebs. The clatter of his boots echoed throughout the wide halls as the flapping of pigeons roosting overhead drowned out his thoughts. He followed the lady's instructions and pushed open a thick oaken door at the end of the hall.

And there she sat. In a long, mint green gown, casually resting on her bed. And he noticed she was unchained, and now that he thought of it, the door was unlocked too. "You weren't stuck here?" He already sensed this girl was going to be work.

Katrina's cheeks went rosy. "I'm afraid not." She had a nice figure too, though he was certain the gown was hiding a lot of it. Plump breasts that he had to focus on not dropping his gaze on for too long, lest she notice, and wide hips too.

"We don't have time to play games," Tristan sighed. "Come, your father is expecting you."

"Oh, I'll come." She twirled her hair, looking right at the knight. "But not for him."

Tristan chuckled, dropping his gaze as he made circles with his boots on the ground. Blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Come sit," she said now. "You must be tired after all that fighting? You're so brave."

"Thank you, milady, but we really should get going--"

"Sit," she commanded. "That's an order from your lady."

He sighed, wading across the room and sat on the soft bed. Katrina poured him a cup of water, and while he wondered how she had prepared this room, he drank.

"I can't present myself to my father in this state, can I? I must clean up," the girl said.

He raised a brow. "Nonsense, you look well enough."

She smiled. "Aw, you have my thanks." She rubbed his arm. "Do you think the girls of the court will be prettier than me?"

He looked upon her, wondering if she was joking. She was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. "Definitely not."

That prompted another grin from her, and she came and sat next to him, brushing her body against his. He felt her breast pushing against him, and tried to fight every urge in his body. "Is my hair okay? Will you neaten it for me?"

He awkwardly brushed his fingers through her smooth silver hair. The clean strands like white silk between his fingers. "What is your name?" she asked him.

"Sir Tristan Redmond."

"Well, Sir Tristan." She locked those seductive grey eyes with his. "May I have a kiss?"

He gazed into her eyes, then at her soft pink lips, with a thousand questions and decisions running through his head, yet he could not stop himself from moving forward, shutting his eyes, and slipping his tongue down her throat. She moaned lightly as he kissed her, and the lust took over his body. Blood rushed to his cock, feeling it rub against his trousers as it grew, aching to be free.

She ran her tender fingers along his cheeks, and he cupped her neck. "Shall I close the door?" he said.

"No." The lady pushed him so that he was lying down on the bed and crawled on top of him. "I want every ghost in this keep to hear me screaming as you fuck me." The light weight of her sitting down on his pelvis felt glorious.

By God, he thought with sheer ecstasy. This might not be the reward he wanted, but he surely was not going to refuse it. Not now that his cock had taken over his thoughts. That lust that could hijack the mind of any man, how powerful it was, to make you throw away any notions of honor or morality in place of one goal.

To fuck.

'She's a tender girl, my Katrina.' Tristan remembered her father's words in his humble hall before he set out on his quest. 'Be careful, she scares easy and is weary of strangers.' He wondered how well her father truly knew her.

The lady's fingers unclasped the straps of his leather jerkin, her pointy nails lightly glazing across his now bare chest as she peeled away the clothes like layers of an onion, sending warm tingles across his body. His hands worked their way up her body, finding those big tits that he squeezed as though they were soft ripe fruits. His hard cock throbbed in his trousers now, bursting to get out. He pulled the dress down, letting her breasts fall out. They jiggled as she moved, and she had nice big pink nipples that got harder by the second, betraying her arousal. He pinched them, and Katrina moaned lightly.

Tristan tried pulling the dress all the way down, but she gently slapped his hand away. "Not yet, my handsome saviour. You have to work for that." And she got up, turned around, and pulled her dress up just enough so that it exposed her ass. Wide and round, with a satisfying jiggle as she moved. "You want me to tell my father how brave you were? How well you should be rewarded?"

"Yes," he muttered.

"Good." Katrina crawled back over him, this time so that her ass was facing him, and she reared it closer to his face as she bent over and undid his trousers. Her round ass was all he could see now, and he wrapped his hands over it, giving her a big slap which sent ripples across her soft skin as though he'd dropped a stone in a still lake. As she backed it closer to his face, he got a full view of her moist pussy. Nice and pink with a little stubble from the days she'd spent here, but he didn't mind, and above, her puckering asshole expanded, the brown tinge getting wider as she backed up right into his face.

Sir Tristan let his tongue do the work from there, first glazing it over the moist lips, tasting her juices and letting them soak his lips and chin. He savoured the taste, letting his tongue go in and out of the hole as he lapped up her dripping pussy. The lady gasped, pulling his trousers down. He felt the cool air over his throbbing hard cock as it pinged upward and moaned when she wrapped her warm, soft fingers around it, massaging it slowly. Her hair slithered across his thighs, giving him a slight tickle. Tristan groaned with pleasure.

She backed up further into him, squashing his face with her soft, thick thighs. He could barely breath from the pussy juices drowning his nose and mouth, but he didn't mind, each gasp for breath as he ate her cunt gave him the energy to keep going. She moaned louder now, wanking his cock faster as her wails of pleasure rang through the castle halls.

After he was done licking the lips around her hole, he moved forward for her clit, first glazing his tongue over it before sucking it in short spurts. "Oh, Tristan..." she moaned, taking sharp breaths each time he sucked her clit. "Keep doing that." She helped him, moving her hips back and forth as though she was riding his face.

Katrina moved down and took his cock in her mouth. He thrust his hips, trying to shove it deeper in her throat. The sweet throb in his cock told him he might come soon, but he wanted to hold it back. He wanted to save that for later.

He squeezed her ass as he continued licking her pussy, swirling his tongue over the clit. The princess moaned and moaned, getting louder, higher pitched, each time he did it. And when he sucked it again, her warm thighs clenched around his face so hard that it muffled his hearing as though he'd fell under the sea, enveloping him in darkness, with only her moist pussy to feed his senses.

She heaved a long sigh as she released her death grip on his head, allowing him to breath again. Her pussy juices soaked his face, running down his neck, and he licked his lips clean. Katrina's lower half shook with pleasure as she got up and turned around. "That tongue is as practiced as your sword." She flashed a lusty smile. "Now I'll reward you. I'm going to ride you like a fucking warhorse." She tore her dress off, revealing a gorgeous pale body, and ran her hands over her tits, squeezing them as she bit her lips. "Would you like that, my knight?"

"Fuck yes." His dick was ready to burst, standing upright stronger than any tower in this god-forsaken keep. She carefully lowered herself over his abdomen, reaching down and grabbing his throbbing cock and sliding it into her pussy, it went in smooth and easy for how dripping it was. Katrina gasped as she sat down on it, taking the whole length inside her, and moved her hips back and forth.

Tristan breathed heavily, rolling his eyes up as he moaned. The soft feeling of wet warmth against his cock as the baron's daughter moved back and forth on it filled him with ecstasy. Sweat beaded on her chest and forehead, and she rested her fingers on his chest, scratching down with more intensity the faster she rode him. "Do you like that?" she said, her eyes shut as her head was thrown upwards. He couldn't answer her, he was enjoying it too much, and kept moaning to show his approval.

Her nails left red scratch marks across his chest, ironically, she was doing more damage to him than the dragon did, but it was a sweet pain. Her body fell downwards, and she smothered his lips with hers and they kissed. Katrina made sure to clean the rest of her pussy juices off his lips for him, but she didn't seem to mind.

Then he seized the initiative, grabbing her ass with both hands and thrusting his hips with all his strength as he pushed her ass down onto his cock. Her screams became more intense as he did this, as did the throbbing of his dick. "Oh, Tristan," she wailed. "I'm going to come again!"

"Not yet you're not," he said, and stopped abruptly, getting himself out from under her warm body. "I'm going to fuck you from behind."

She smirked. "You don't command me. You're just a roaming knight."

"I do now," he stated with the authority of a king. He got up on his knees, his erect cock, glistening with Katrina's wetness, waving around. "Get on your fucking knees and turn around."

Her cheeks flared as her smile grew, and a wide red blotch had appeared just over her breasts. She obeyed him without question, pushing her ass up against him as she arched her back downwards and buried her face into the bed. He rubbed his cock around her lips, teasing her as she moaned, and then let it slip in once more. Tristan pounded away at her with all of his strength, the ripples flying across her ass each time his body smashed against hers. The baroness screamed each time. "I'm going to come!"

The knight leaned forward, grabbing the back of her neck with a grip like iron and continued thrusting her with all of his body weight behind it. The loud slapping noises shot through the halls, almost drowning out the lady's screams.

He felt it himself now, that sweet tingle in his cock that told him he was about to burst. His moaning got louder, a low, deep groaning, almost like the dragon he slayed earlier. "Oh, Katrina..." he gasped.

"Don't spill your seed inside me," she managed to yell amidst the loud slapping of her ass. "I will not suffer a bastard."

Sir Tristan did not need to be told twice, for the baron would lynch him if he learned of what happened here.

Just as he was about to burst, Tristan pulled his cock out from inside her and shot his come all over her ass, letting that heavenly feeling of calm relief wash over his mind like smooth wave. He made sure to jerk the remaining come out from his cock, letting it glaze down her legs. "My lady..." he gasped, falling onto the bed and lying on his back as he heaved for breath. Sweat glazed over his skin, shimmering as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Katrina got up, cleaning the come off her ass with a dusty rag before she put her dress on and gulped a large cup of water. She giggled as she saw him still panting on the bed. "I took more out of you than that dragon did, hm?"

"Indeed you did," Tristan said, still catching his breath as he took the moment in. "You certainly gave me a tougher fight."

The lady brushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she chuckled, impressed with herself. "I think we best get going then, before they send someone else."