The Darkest Knight

Lucius rolled over in his very comfortable, room enough for 6 type monstrosity of a bed. It had been one hell of a night and his dreams were reminiscing it, every last succulent morsel. Even now, through the foggy, misty depths of never never land his cock was a rod of steel and he could feel his blood pulsing through it. Thankfully in his kingdom it was never, never never land but always, how can we please you, can we do this or that or perhaps please you this way land.

The serving wenches last night were particularly lusty things too. Three of them, all buxom eye popping flesh everywhere and oh so anxious to please. He'd had one on her knees sucking diligently at his cock, his hands pulling her short, tumbling curly locks while watching the other two play nicely together. How sweetly they'd played; kissing and fondling each other, fingers dipping and gently probing in each other's cunny's to squeals of delight. They'd made a glorious sight romping around on his bed, screaming riotously as they came.

'MORNING SIRE,' yelled his valet in his usual unpleasantly jovial morning mood.

Lucius awoke dribbling, to the painful light of the shutters thrown wide and the sight of his valet's eyes bulging.

Damn, must have forgotten to get rid of the wenches. A soft giggle confirmed this.

'Out,' he roared, rolling over to push the nearest girl who gasped and spluttered when she landed unceremoniously on the floor.

'Out, out, out!' and as Lucius had a reputation in which his bite was a good deal worse than his bark... the girls scampered quickly, in a flurry of fluffy white underwear confetti which flew around the room in all directions.

Byron, the valet, was too well trained to offer comment on anything before 9am. The Prince was not a morning person.

Lucius rubbed a fist over his face and shook himself awake.

'What's on the cards today?' he asked. Thinking it would probably be some wretched tea party with Lord n Lady whatnot from Wherever.

'Not much Sire. Just need to find a Princess, marry her and produce many, MANY heirs.'

Lucius looked back aghast for a second, then breathed.

'Ahhh, it must be that novel day in April where you're allowed have a little fun with me.' He smiled and began to relax once more.

'No, orders from the top Sire. King says get your lazy err... bottom out of bed, find princess, get married and preferably before next Month when the Queen's coming home. Elsewise, his Majesty says you'll be disinherited and thrown out on your... er... derriere. Sire.

'He said WHAT?' Lucius looked apoplectic.

'Yes, your Mama is back soon and she'll be... err... EXTREMEMLY disappointed if you're still single. Wedding is to be set on the day of the summer solstice. The Queen will attend said glorious event of her social calendar, toast the new happy couple and err... something about babies.' Byron ducked as a heavy wool slipper whizzed past his ear.

'So my bachelor days are over?' the Prince wore an expression of great and all consuming pain.

'That appeared to be the gist of it Sire. Well, either that or your pauper days are just beginning.' He ducked again as the remaining slipper flew his way.

*

'I hate Princesses.'

Byron rolled his eyes as that must have been the 10th comment along that vein he'd heard today.

'Right let's go back to life on the open road then Sire. I've always wanted to have a go at begging for my supper. We could camp in the great wide open, steal things from peasants or perhaps actually work for a living....' A voice of awe at that one.

'Very funny,' said Lucius. 'Whoever has the delightfully dubious pleasure of marrying me, is going to pay every single second of every single day they remain with their head still attached to their body. I swear the little upstart would be Queen will be praying for death before I'm done with her.' The look Lucius wore was so dark, that for once, the valet was lost for words.

*

Two days of riding at breakneck pace brought them to the neighbouring kindom of Richelieu. After a suitably long begging session with King Ragnor, Lucius and Byron were ushered forth for an audience with Princess Gabriella.

'First time lucky eh Sire?' whispered Byron encouragingly. A sharp nudge in the ribs was all he received for his troubles.

Lucius found himself holding his breath as the first bout of bile caught in his throat. Being a Prince was damn hard work at times. Then he caught sight of the lovely Gabriella, so called by King Ragnor.

'Lovely my arse,' he muttered to his companion, accompanied by a glowering glare.

Gabriella was to lovely as a wicked stepsister was to Cinderella. Byron was trying hard not to explode into raucous laughter. The Princess was perhaps a little bit on the plumpish side, her heavenly bosom straining every button of the rather unfortunately tight dress she wore. She'd make three of Lucius and if looks could kill he'd already be dead. Then there was the mop of unruly black hair, which looked like it hadn't seen a comb in a decade at least and could perhaps house a local population of mice. Her nose stuck out at quite an unattractive angle to say the least and the tiny, beady eyes did not help the general ensemble. That was not the worst of it however. When she spoke... ah God, Lucius wanted to cover his ears. Such a viciously nasal, booming voice that produced a shudder of all those in ear shot.

When asked by her 'lovely highness' the purpose to which her audience had been sought, Lucius hurriedly spluttered something about 'making friends with the neighbours' and made fast his exit. Honest to God, he'd have rather been poor was the departing thought.

*

The next castle the two happened upon found Byron as the 'ambassador' of quality control. Lucius was refusing to enter the Castle grounds unless said terms were met:

She must not look like a horse

She must not be any bigger than a horse

She must definitely not sound like a horse

Complete with the new instructions, Byron trudged resolutely forth.

*

A very haggard looking figure appeared two hours later, a hopeful expression on his face.

'Two out of three?' he enquired.

Lucius in response turned his stallion on its heel. Byron, with a rueful expression, hurried to catch up... having to spur his mount on somewhat.

'Oh and one other thing,' said Lucius when the two horses were once again galloping side by side, kicking up vast plumes of dust from the dirt track which stretched for miles in front of them.

'Yes Sire'? Byron spluttered and coughed as he inhaled the freshly raised muck residing in the air.

'She must be a virgin,' added the Prince, the beginnings of a smile forming at the corner of his lips.

His companion nearly choked.

'Bloody hell, we'll be here till the turn of the CENTURY now,' came the groaning response. 'It'd be easier to find one with three horns. You'd like horns, come to think of it, I'm sure I could find a horned Princess somewhere.....' Byron's voice drifted off, choking ,muttering and much unheeded into the distance.

*

Three Days Hence.

Looks: very unlike horse. Tick.

Size: Much smaller than even small pony. Tick.

Sounds like: No neighing in sight. Tick.

Virgin: Tick. Cough.

Byron looked mightily pleased with himself. Lucius less so, it'd been a few months now and life on the open road had less friendly female company than he'd hoped for.

'Right, I'm off for a viewing then,' said the Prince squaring his broad, stately shoulders.

'Oh and Byron?' he said with one final look back, 'if I find you've lied about ANY of the above, you and your head will be parting company shortly.'

A rather loud gulp followed the hooves of the departing stallion.

*

What Byron had failed to mention was that Princess what's her name was being sold as a slave to the highest bidder at auction. Lucius' cohort hadn't even seen her, just read one of the numerous posters plastered to the Castle walls and ramparts. These read something along the lines of:

Sale of the century:

Much famed for her beauty, Princess Rosalind will take to the Auction Block tonight

She is to be sold as chattel in an honourable attempt to save her kingdom from impending penury.

Amongst her many and differing talents one lucky bidder will be...

The Owner of an honest to God, pure as the driven snow 100% Genuine Virgin.

Yes really.

Now that had Lucius' interest. A Princess whom one could have not a little fun with. He let his thoughts run riot for a moment. Slaves could be whipped and abused at will, unlike whining, annoying, boring run of the mill Princesses. Slaves could also be chained or restrained, fucked on the tiniest whim and with no option to say 'No her highness has a nasty headache tonight, sorry darling, maybe next year.' They could also be rather wondrously fucked in every single hole they possessed with absolutely nothing they could say about it, other than a nice hearty scream or a nice shriek here and there. Then if he so wished, she could be gagged and he'd never have to hear another sound from her lips. Hell, he could even have her work in the depths of the Castle bowels as a scullery maid or a cook's apprentice if he so choosed. The possibilities were indeed endless and his mouth began to water at the prospect. With this is mind, she hardly even needed to be beautiful and if she was indeed the much famed Virgin they claimed, breaking in every single last hole she had would be too delicious to contemplate.

Lucius was almost rubbing his hands in glee as he made his way along the spotless cobbled floor to the well sign posted auction room, deep inside the Castle Vaults. He was followed by not a few Princes, Dukes, Marquises, Barons, Earls and so forth. News had obviously spread fast. The only problem he could think of was how much did he think his dear father would be prepared to pay for his son's future happiness? One thing was for certain. This was going to be interesting.