The Ritual of the Sword and the Sheath

My mistress with power over me,

My might, courage, fight

And sword I sheath in thee

"That's right, lover, you're such a good boy, now don't hold back, give yourself to me," and she squeezed his hands as her pussy squelched and squeezed his cock.

Marissa was fucking him harder than she would have thought possible thirty minutes ago when her little pussy balked at accepting his shaft. But now all thirteen inches of him were pistoning into the witch's vice-tight pussy. Her pierced clit ground against him and she felt a red hot coil in her loins that grew tighter, even tighter until. . . "Aaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiieeeee. . . . " her painful scream filled the cabin and her fingernails sunk into Kor's chest. At the same time Kor bellowed a roar that almost took the thatched roof off.

He saw the witch riding him, their hands twined in the air like tender lovers, her excruciatingly tight pussy squeezing and milking his cock while the flame-light flickered off her perfect breasts and skin. "Mistress. . . . " he groaned, unsure of giving himself to her. But it was futile, her loins felt like home and he yearned to offer himself to the temptress in the hopes that he could be held in this bliss forever. "Mistress, I'm. . . " cumming he meant to say, but didn't have time before he erupted in her. He let out a hoarse, painful bellow—a roar that shook the rafters of the cottage- and his orgasm ricocheted through him, tearing him apart. It was like parts of him were coming loss or breaking off, like pieces of him were flowing into her greedy, sucking pussy. He surrendered gratefully and completely.

She collapsed on him while his groan turned into a strangled moan. The witch was sobbing and trembling, her own ecstasy still coursing through her small frame. His shaft continued to spasm, compliantly offering his essence to her womb and she squeezed his rod with her inner muscles, milking every drop while she shuddered on him and latched her teeth into his shoulder. They lay for a few minutes panting before either spoke.

"Did I do good, mistress?" He asked.

"Soooo good, lover, sooo good. Now let's sleep with your sword in its new sheath."

"Yes, mistress," Kor replied with a yawn and they drifted away as the witch nuzzled his neck, his massive cock buried to the hilt in her loins, the barbed head assuring it would be locked in her until dawn.

When the knight came to, cheerful morning light beamed through the small windows. Marissa was pouring tea from a kettle while a small iron pot, smelling of savory meat and hearty vegetables, cooked over the crackling hearth fire.

"You're awake!" she said and sat on the bed next to him, giving his forehead a small kiss. "How do you feel?" she asked curiously and sipped her tea while peering at him.

"Amazing. I feel more rested than I ever have," the half-orc smiled.

"It's been two days. I was wondering if you were going to wake up at all-- that's the danger of crafting new spells," and she placed her hand on his cheek.

"Two days?! I need to get to Oakdale. There are rumors of a cult of Beelzebub. This is a matter of some urgency," the knight said and he stood, pulling on his breeches.

"You won't leave without a bite of breakfast if I have anything to say about it," she chided him.

"Please, fix me a plate," he said apologetically, pulling on his tunic.

She had him sit at the large table and scooped the fixings from the iron pot onto wooden plates. His squire's body was no longer on the table, but there were fresh blood stains soaked into the wood. Clay vessels cluttered half of the table and were stacked on each other, some as small as a fist, others as big as a pumpkin. They were sealed with wax cloth and cork, each one adorned by a runic label Kor did not recognize.

Marissa saw his gaze and explained, "Eustace has been taken care of."

"Excellent," replied Kor, "he was a good squire. Well, he was my first, so maybe I can't really judge."

"He was a virgin in body and mind," she said reverently and poured him some tea.

"This is good, what is it?" Kor asked, pulling some meat from a from a small, knobby bone.

"Umm. . . ham hocks," the witch said quickly.

"Interesting, I didn't see any swine when we got here," the knight shrugged and kept eating.

They finished breakfast and Marissa gave him fresh provisions for the three days it would take to reach Oakdale.

"You have been a most gracious host, m'lady," the Wilderness-Paladin said with a bow and he opened her door to leave.

"But, your armor? Your sword?" Marissa asked, bewildered, waving her hand at the magical blade.

The half-orc chuckled, "You keep 'em. I don't know what I would do with that stuff. I've no use for it."

A wicked smile flashed across the witch's face but was gone in an instant.

"Very will, Sir Kor, safe travels to you."

The massive knight raised her dainty hand and kissed the top of it, then stepped through the door and strode down the path whistling a melody in a tortured, harsh key.

The witch sighed and leaned in the door frame watching him go. She felt a trickle on her thigh and reached under her robe, bringing up a glob of his tangy, powerful cum- two days later and she was still leaking his passion. He must have pumped a quart of cum into her little pussy. And it would take a mending spell to tighten and heal her punished sex—this was the price of such a spell, and such a lover. She licked the pearl of cum off her fingers, savoring the saltiness and decadent sweetness of him.