Paladin Ch. 01: The Frustrating Night

Flintborn Keep is a formidable if not overly-imposing structure, with thick stone walls and a small tower with arrow slits that offers a clear view of the immediate surroundings. The once lush-gardens of the surrounding estate are slowly being reclaimed by the surrounding witchwood forest, though the verdant vines seem to stop just short of the structures walls, seemingly not quite bold enough to dare lay a tendril on the keep itself.

In its heyday the keep would have housed dozens of people; the Flintborn clan, a house of minor nobility, together with all their servants and a small guard force. But poor management and a gambling addiction had diminished the household year after year, until the Flintborns were forced to abandon the property to its fates, and throw their lots in with a wealthier house. A rotating cast of unsavory characters had called Flintborn Keep home since then, until someone or something even more unsavory came along to oust them. The current inhabitants are two humans, neither one native to the area - and currently one of them is naked, bound spread-eagle in the tower bedroom, writhing in sexual frustration.

Raya moans into her gag at the sensation of a series of wet kisses, beginning at her belly button and slowly tracing their way up her abdomen to the valley between her breasts. She gasps as the questing mouth homes in on her right breast, circling her nipple with feather-light butterfly kisses, and she yelps as she feels the sudden bite on her nipple, sending a charge of erotic pain to her core. But as quickly as it came the mouth is gone, giving Raya a few brief moments to catch her breath, before the unseen lover resumes again. A finger this time, ever so slowly tracing the crease of Raya's inner thigh, downwards towards her overheated sex. Raya bucks violently against her bonds, straining to get the playful hands where she needs them most; rubbing on her clit, thrusting into her pussy. But her bondage is too tight and her lover is too skilled to be manipulated, and the fingers tease all around her slit without ever touching her where she demands to be touched, until ultimately withdrawing, leaving Raya thrusting her hips uselessly against empty air.

In her mind's eye, Raya imagines the scene. Her lover is the butcher's apprentice, the cute one who always stammered and blushed when Raya went to make her purchases, and who always gave her more than she'd paid for - but who'd never worked up the courage to try a pass at her. Well, he'd sure enough found his courage since, and was even now gazing in admiration at her helplessly bound and waiting body, his cock fully erect and ready to take her to new heights of ecstasy.

Suddenly, an explosion of sensation. Lips seal themselves around Raya's aching clit, sucking and kissing, even as a pair of strong hands close around her breasts, groping roughly, flicking at her nipples. No, she'd been wrong - this isn't the butcher at all. Surely this is Ralph, the watchman. The tall one with the broad shoulders. He must have caught Raya sneaking looks at him from the flower garden as he ran through his sword exercises, shirtless in the hot summer weather, his muscles gleaming beneath a sheen of sweat. She hadn't been as discreet as she though; Ralph must have noticed how Raya seemed to always find an excuse to be working in the gardens every time Ralph was doing his drills, and he was a brute of a man that only spoke the language of force when it came to taking what he wanted, and had chained her to his bad, his to ravish until his ferocious appetite was fully sated.

In her aroused state, it takes very little time before Raya feels the orgasm start to crest within her. Teasingly, Ralph begins to ease off; his hands are now gently stroking instead of roughly groping; gentle kisses on her crotch take the place of the relentless sucking of a moment earlier. Raya pleads wordlessly into her gag for Ralph to keep going, harder, faster, but Ralph is in complete control, and he sets an achingly slow pace. Still, it's enough. The massive orgasm continues to build, closer and closer with every tweak of her nipple, every caress of Ralph's thrusting tongue, nearer and nearer to an mind-shattering orgasm.

All sensation evaporates in the space of a heartbeat. Raya had known it would, as it had - how many? - at least a dozen times already. But knowing it would happen doesn't help at all when it actually does. Raya can't help but throw herself violently against her restraints, howling her frustration into her gag. All she needs is one touch, one finger, and she'll be able to push herself over the edge. But her manacles, the manacles she locked herself into at Zeff's command, are utterly unbeatable; there is nothing but the night air to rub her clit against, nothing but emptiness for her pussy to clench around. Her orgasm slowly fades away, her climax is denied again.

After a minute or so, Raya has calmed down enough to be able to think. The orgasm is still there of course, simmering within her, ready to surge forward again if anyone would have the decency to give her the fucking she desperately needs. But at least for the moment she has enough self control to still her thrusting hips and gather her thoughts and open her eyes.

The bedchamber is large to begin with, but seems all the more so because of how empty it is. The stone walls are bare and unadorned, the floor is plain wood, slightly warped with age.

The only furniture is an unremarkable wardrobe filled with lingerie for Raya as well as a handful of identical copies of the regulation black robes Zeff wears, and the bed that Raya is tied to. It's a magnificent bed, with a mattress large enough to comfortably fit three sleepers if one was so inclined without any intimacy required, and a wrought iron bedframe, to whose four corners Raya's limbs are bound by unforgiving iron manacles that match the frame.

The iron manacles are of course not necessary, nor is the rubber bit gag in her mouth. Zeff's control over Raya is absolute, and he can achieve the same effect with just a few words of sorcery. But this is an area where Zeff prefers the physicality of real restraints. Coils of magically hardened air could hold Raya every bit as effectively, but there is an attractive realness to the cold bite of iron, to the clicking of metal chains scraping against each other, to the image of a damsel in distress harshly chained to her bed. Raya would never admit it out loud, but the image is one that worked for her as well - her sexual fantasies these days always seem to involve finding herself bound and helpless.

Besides the furniture, the room was empty. The butcher's apprentice had never been there, and neither had any muscle-bound watchman. The hands and tongue that had so recently teased her to distraction belonged to nobody at all, she knew. They were an illusion, conjured by Zeff, when he'd sent Raya to his room with orders to lock herself into the iron restraints. This was Zeff's idea of foreplay - a phantom lover, summoned to keep Raya crazed with lust, so that when he finally decided it was time for bed he'd be greeted by a sex slave who was not just willing, but frantically desperate.

It's all in Raya's mind of course, that's how illusions work, but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier to resist. For all that Raya knows on a logical level that nobody is in the room with her, that the sensations of fingers and mouths and cocks are figments of her imagination, the effect they have on her is very very real. The phantom lover is endlessly patient at teasing her to the very brink of release, and exquisitely talented at bringing her to the very cusp of orgasm time and time again, and knowing the last possible instant to stop sensation - with no possibility of ever erring and accidentally letting her cum, for it is all ultimately happening in her own head.

But where is Zeff? The illusion has done its job; Raya is dripping wet and more than ready to plead, to crawl, to beg, to do whatever Zeff wants, if it only meant some satisfaction and an end to the torment. It's impossible to judge how long Raya has been bound for - it always feels like an eternity, but Raya is sure it's been well over an hour. He's taking much longer than usual, but it wouldn't be the first time that Zeff became absorbed in a book and forgot all about Raya waiting and suffering in his bedchamber. Raya shouts out for him through her gag, knowing the futility of the act even as she does it - Zeff is likely in the dungeon, and the thick stone walls of the keep have a way of muting all sound.

All at once there are lips on Raya's neck, their gentle kisses sending chills down her body, as a smooth hand rubs slowly up her inner thigh. The phantom lover never gives her more than a couple of minutes to calm down before beginning its disembodied teasing again, and Raya's body responds instinctively, leaning into the caress, her nipples hardening, her pussy clenching.

Raya closes her eyes. It's too disconcerting to have her senses so at odds with each other; her sense of touch completely certain that she's being manhandled, while her eyes report that she's still all alone. It's easier to close her eyes and fantasize. Raya is no longer a captive in Flintborn Keep. She's back in Hillholm, in the church, bound on the altar, and the handsome Father Bernard is standing over her. Raya has been naughty, Raya has been caught masterbating, and Father Bernard has taken it upon himself to exact a very unique punishment on the wayward nun. Suddenly she feels his thick cock at her slit, rubbing, penetrating - but just the tip, just a centimeter or two, not nearly what Raya needs. She thrusts her hips down, trying to take more of his length, but he pulls back to leave her empty. Raya moans pleadingly, but Father Bernard's lesson will not be rushed - the other clergy have gone home, and Father Bernard has all night ahead of him...

Two hours later, Raya is all but incoherent with need. She's endured another dozen or more sessions of edging and denial; after Father Bernard had come an old childhood friend, grown up and pursuing an unrequited crush from his youth; then a king who'd claimed her for his harem; then a thief who'd been distracted from his nighttime mission by the unignorable sight of Raya sleeping naked; then a band of brigands taking prisoners from a caravan trail. Each took their turn at binding Raya, exploring the delights of her body, some gently, others roughly, making her cry out in lust and desire - before disappearing as abruptly as they'd been conjured.

It's become clear that Zeff has indeed forgotten her, but Raya's illusory lover is as persistent as ever. The rests that she's granted between teasing sessions are increasingly ineffective; her looming orgasm is a constant presence now, never fading. Her phantom is forced to be increasingly gentle with its teasing, so as not to tip her over the edge, but it's up to the challenge. The lonely woodsman who'd tied her up in his shed had been particularly cruel, he'd spent his entire session simply penetrating her - just leaving his thick manhood inside her, letting her feel it's heat as it throbbed inside her, but only making the tiniest thrusts, at an agonizingly slow pace, even as Raya bucked and writhed and pleaded for more. Not once did he touch her heated clit, but even so, it was enough stimulation to eventually bring her to the gasping edge of orgasm - whereupon he promptly disappeared, leaving Raya clenching her pussy around nothing.

It's during one of her rests that Raya hears something smash. She immediately begins straining against her bonds, crying out for Zeff - to come to her, to use her, to ravish her. Even through her fog of arousal though, some part of Raya's brain registers that something isn't right. A smash? What could Zeff be smashing? And why? And then - is that a shout?

All at once the door flies open, and standing in the doorway is - is a god. That's all Raya's brain is capable of thinking. A shining hero out of myth; tall, handsome, penetrating gray eyes on a sculpted face, in a suit of gleaming white chainmail. An embodiment of everything Zeff is not. Despite all the tricks her mind has been forced to play on her, Raya is filled with a certainty that this is no illusion. This is her knight in shining armor, arrived at long last to rescue his fair damsel from the clutches of the evil warlock.

As Raya gazes in awe at the heroic visage before her, she gradually becomes aware that her hero in turn is taking in her own appearance. She knows how she must appear - stark naked, legs spread wide open, pussy juices forming a puddle on the bed, the room reeking of sex. Raya blushes a deep crimson, and makes a futile attempt to closer her legs, and somehow cover her breasts, but of course the tight bondage gives her no chance.

Raya's struggle against her manacles seems to snap the hero into action, and he quickly approaches the bed. "My lady," he says, somewhat breathlessly. "I'm here to rescue you." He pauses briefly, as if aware that he's stating the obvious. "Zeff is taken care of, and we need to get out of here - fast."

Now that the trance is broken, Raya's rescuer moves quickly. In a moment he's removed the gag from her mouth, and Raya tries frantically to express a dozen different sentiments to him at once; of thanks, of shame, of hope, of fear, they all jumble together and Raya only gets as far as "My lord" before having to stop to let her brain her sort itself out.

Her rescuer is pulling at the manacles now, looking for a way to release them. "Do you know where the key is?" he asks. It's a simple question, but a sudden flood of horror washes over Raya.

"There - there is no key," she mumbles. Damn Zeff! The man had no use for keys. These manacles were brought up from the Keep's dungeon, and though presumably there must have once been a key, it was lost to time. Zeff had no need for anything as conventional as keys - he could open locks with the wave of his hand. But with Zeff dead, was Raya now doomed to be permanently chained to the iron bedframe, even as her moment of rescue was upon her? "Zeff uses magic to open them," Raya explains, struggling to hold back tears.

Her hero mutters a curse under his breath and stands up from the bed. He pauses in thought for a moment, but then flashes Raya a reassuring smile. "As it happens," he says, "I know a little magic myself. I'm a paladin you see - Sir Simon." A surge of relief floods through Raya, but the paladin doesn't notice, his face has a look of intense concentration, before he sighs and opens his eyes again. He seems to be focusing very hard on looking only at her face, and not letting his eyes roam over Raya's naked spread-eagle body.

"But that fight took a lot out of me, my lady. I'm afraid I need to rest a bit to regain my strength. Rescue is going to have to wait just a little, but don't worry - you're safe now, and you'll be back in civilization before you know it."

For the first time Raya notices that her hero seems unsteady on his feet, that he sways slightly and favors one leg over the other. Of course. Zeff is - was - a powerful warlock. Sir Simon must be powerful indeed to have been able to beat him, but obviously the fight could not have been easy, and Sir Simon needs to recover.

Raya gives a sudden yelp, and Sir Simon peers at her curiously. "My lady? Are you in pain?"

"N - no," Raya stammers out. "My lord, you're right - I can see that you're injured, and you need to recover. I've been trapped here for months; my rescue can wait another hour. Just - please don't go far, my lord?"

"I will remain right outside this room," Simon pledges. "But my lady - are you certain you're ok?"

Raya nods, hardly trusting herself to talk, as she concentrates on keeping her hips from thrusting. "Just," she stammers. "Just... overwhelmed".

Simon accepts the answer with a nod, and heads to the door. He pauses in the entryway and looks back at Raya, to give a reassuring smile, and it takes all of Raya's focus to keep from writhing, and give what she hopes passes for a brave smile.

Then Simon is out into the hallway, and the moment he's out of sight, Raya loses herself anew to her pulsating arousal, as her mind is unable to focus on anything except the feather light caresses that have been assaulting her clit for the last minute.

Several more hours tick slowly by, as Simon sits in meditation, and the illusion spell plagues Raya with several more rounds of orgasm denial. The magic is oblivious to the presence of the paladin, but Raya is not, and faces the challenge of trying to suffer her teasing in silence, instead of her usual thrashing and moaning and begging. The thought of having to explain what she is enduring to Simon is simply too mortifying. It turns out not to matter very much though, when moans inevitably slip out - Simon seems to be in a deep trance, utterly oblivious to the world and Raya.

Raya is certainly not oblivious to Simon though, and her fantasies take a very pointed direction. There are no more farmboys and brigands and pirate lords; now there's only Simon. Simon's teeth nibbling on her ear, Simon's lips kissing her breasts, Simon's hands roving over her body; the handsome paladin relentlessly extracting his payment for her rescue, playing her body like a sexual instrument. Until, inevitably, Simon brings her to the very brink of orgasm as she's been brought so many times already, and the illusion withdraws, and Raya opens her eyes again and finds Simon still at the door, eyes closed, his position unchanged from ten minutes ago.

The spell finally fades away, with Zeff no longer around to power it, and within minutes Raya slips into a deep sleep.