The Sword of Demokles

Dear readers,

Allow me to regale you with tales of horror, and beauty, and seduction and love- making. Allow me to entertain you with tales that span over centuries and continents -- and are as timeless as time itself. Allow me to take you beyond the reaches of time and space -- to the Romuthian Age, when the Earth was yet young, and the stars forming, and the moon shone twice as bright as it does now. And on the Earth, glittering kingdoms lay spread like diamonds from a broken necklace -- kingdoms that warred among themselves -- vying for land and power. But supreme of these kingdoms was Utopia, the land of bold Knights and comely maidens -- the valour of the Knights as legendary as the beauty and allure of the maidens. It is said that the fear felt at seeing the winged skull banner of the Utopian Knights was almost the same as the flash of desire experienced at seeing a Utopian woman disrobe.

Our tale begins on a winter day in Utopia, in a small village called Washawow on the far Eastern marches of the Kingdom. The Kingdom had been suffering unrest lately due to the frequent raids from the neighbouring kingdom of Harlotria, which was ruled by a queen who was as ruthless as she was alluring.

The lord of the village of Washawow, Lord Jaden Demokles was all but the last of an illustrious line of Knights, who had served the Kingdom. He was of the line of Lord Steren Demokles, who had single handedly impregnated each of the five hundred members of the elite Amazonian guard of Harlotria, in the space of only two years. Lord Steren begot Lord Madsin, who destroyed the temple of the evil demi-god Sedultra, who transformed nubile maidens into sexless zombies, and was rewarded with the lifelong admiration of the thousand acolytes of the temple. Lord Steren begot Lord Jaden, who seduced the King's wife, his daughter, and all of his concubines, in addition to many of his other illustrious deeds. This last exploit however, caused him to lose favour with the King, and he was sent to the Eastern marches, to ostentatiously guard the frontiers. Lord Jaden was childless, and the only surviving member of the Demokles line was a young lad of seventeen named Damien. Although young of age, he had the heart of a Knight, as he had already seduced most of the women of his age in the village, and some of their mothers as well, and had disposed off about fifty of their male relatives who had been so foolish as to challenge him in combat.

Lord Jaden sighed as he contemplated his evening glass of corn liquor. The snow outside was falling steadily though not heavily, and the roaring fire in the hearth felt good. He raised his hand and pulled on the bell cord, which caused the entry of Staten, his manservant, and erstwhile page.

"Send my nephew to me." He commanded.

The slight start of the servant did not escape his eyes, nor did his slighter hesitation before he remarked, politely "I believe Master Damien may be occupied, My Lord."

The patronisation of his servant did nothing to improve Lord Staten's temper, and he roared "Tell that horny son-of-a to get his lazy arse in here. He can go back to balling his tavern maids when I am done with him.'

The servant speedily departed to find Damien in his bedchamber with the door locked. Noises emanating from the room spoke for themselves about two consenting males enjoying each other's flesh. However, if he had possessed the ability of looking through doors, he would have seen the following scene:

Damien was riding a luscious little tavern-maid doggy style, piercing her tender pussy with short, hard strokes that left her squealing with pleasure. As his lust mounted, Damien grabbed the maid by hair and lifted her off the bed, leaving her to scream uncontrollably with pleasure as Damien's cock seemed to reach her innermost depths. Damien slapped her buttocks hard and fast, raising welts and reddening her cute little ass, and grabbed her nipples and twisted, causing the maiden to scream even louder with pleasure. Damien twisted her head around and was about to claim her lips with his own when there was a sudden loud knock on the door.

"Master Damien!" the voice of Staten was muffled but clear. "The master wants to see you in his chamber."

Damien raised his head and let pushed his dark hair out of his steel-grey eyes. The thin scar that ran down his temple to his eyebrows served only to accentuate his rugged good looks. Standing tall at six and a half feet, and boasting of the muscular physique that is so inherent of heroes, and a cock that was impressive in its length as well as its girth, he drew the eyes of females in any and every company. He pulled his ten inch cock out of the girl's pussy and dressed without so much as saying goodbye. His utter disregard of women was matched only by the ease with which he conquered them. Putting on his dark cloak and belting on his rapier, he left without a backward glance at the girl who was forced to masturbate furiously in order to relieve herself of the sexual tension that had built up within her.

Damien walked in the chamber with the same deadly grace that permeated his every movement, the grace of a panther lounging on the rocks, ready to explode into lethal movement. "You wanted to see me, Uncle Jaden?" he asked.

"Who was the wench?" Lord Jaden growled.

"Some tavern maid...Erica or Erina... some name of that sort. Why?"

"You are old enough to stop balling around and start realising your responsibilities." Lord Jaden shouted.

"Oh, spare me Uncle!" Damien sighed. "At my age you probably had balled more than I had, and screwed all your aunties to boot." He grinned at his spluttering Uncle. "It runs in the family, Uncle. You of all people should know."

"Regardless." Lord Jaden growled. "The time has come for you to assume some of your responsibilities and duties. Help me up. We are going to the armoury."

"Bring down that long box from the top shelf and that black chest. And hold this blasted torch. It smokes so much I can hardly see." His Uncle rattled non-stop instructions at Damien as they went in the armoury.

Damien could not but grin as he complied with his Uncle's instructions. "The old battle-axe has lost none of his sharpness." He thought to himself.

He handed down the box to his Uncle, who clasped it in his hands reverently. Damien, possessor of great physical strength as he was, had to struggle to lift the chest, and carry it out of the armoury.

Back to the chamber, Lord Jaden could not help but think of his own youth, as his father had performed this same ceremony in his time, and his father before him, and so on.

"Open the box, Damien." He said.

Damien gasped as the lid swung back on its hinges. Inside lay a sword in a magnificent scabbard. The scabbard was of dark ebony, and inlaid with dark jewels that seemed to absorb light instead of catching them.

"Take the sword." His Uncle ordered.

Damien lifted the sword out and drew it, gasping again at the sheer beauty of it. The long blade was just wide enough, and had many runes inscribed on it. Two opposing crescents framed a huge jewel set in the hilt of the sword which at the moment was pure white.

"This is Valinor. The Sword of Demokles." As the name was spoken, the jewel changed colour, shifting from white to clear blue and back again. "You must make it yours, Damien."

Young as though Damien was, he was well versed in the lore of the Demokles family and he did not hesitate as he drew the sword across his palm. He hardly felt anything as the blade cut through his skin and a thin red line appeared. The jewel flashed to blood red and through several shades of colour before settling on steel-grey.

"Open the chest, Damien." His Uncle ordered.

Damien knew what to accept, but it still did not take away his amazement as he lifted out an entire set of body armour out of the chest. He knew that the breastplate would repel any attack, the shield could not be broken, and possessed the powers of teleportation. The gauntlets could detect poison, and the helmet granted him the power of seeing far. The boots would enable him to move faster than even the fastest doe.

"Put it on, Damien."

In a daze, Damien pulled on the armour. It fit him as if it had been made to his size, though he knew that the armour had belonged to his family for at least five generations.

"Kneel."

Damien knelt. He knew what came next. His Uncle rose and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Damien Demokles" he intoned "You are now the Knight of the line of Demokles. Your sword shall stand for truth and justice and Utopia. Stand and be gone. Do not return until you have made your mark upon the world."

Damien rose. There would be no more words. No farewells. He went out to the stables, moving so stealthily that no one could see him. He saddled his mount, a fiery dark steed named Balzer, which in the ancient tongue meant 'hurricane', and rode out in the night.

The border of Harlotria was but two days ride away by normal horse, but Balzer would never tire and was as fast as his master with his boots on, so the journey took only a day.

It was morning when Damien dismounted at the border village of Misfortunat. The smoke from the burning huts had still not dissipated in the morning breeze, and the bodies of the inhabitants of the village lay strewn where they had tried to make a stand against the invaders from across the border. There were no survivors. Damien gritted his teeth as he surveyed the carnage. The border outposts were getting lax if they had led this party through. He followed the tracks of the raiders out of the village, heading due east. He came upon them half an hour later, a party of fifty barbarians, laden with their spoils, riding fast.

The raiders had no warning as Damien attacked from behind. The last two barbarians were decapitated before they even had the chance to draw their sword. Such was Damien's speed and skill with the sword that he seemed to be in five places at once. The spears and arrows of the barbarians missed him and hit their own, or bounced off his armour. Within a short time, only the leader was the barbarians was left, who raised his sword and charged at Damien, who being preoccupied with the onerous task of slitting the throat of the last three barbarians, did not see him. The sword of the leader crashed down on Damien's helmet, only to be met by Valinor. No ordinary sword could withstand Valinor in straight combat, and the leader's sword shattered upon impact, leaving the hilt in his hand, and causing him to cry out in pain.

Damien, about to lop off the head of the barbarian, slightly altered the stroke of the sword and it cut across the armour, which fell away, revealing a luscious female body. The reverse stroke of the sword cut away the helmet, which revealed a pale, heart shaped face, and long eye-lashes. The cold caused the nipples of the woman to harden instantly and peak. Damien felt his cock standing to attention. He swung up his sword to the neck of the maiden and asked "What can you offer me to spare your life?"

"Anything that you ask, my Lord Knight." Her voice was tremulous with fear and cold, and her eyes widened as Damien pulled out his cock. "That will be a pleasure."

Damien was in no mood for listening to female chatter, so he grabbed her head and pushed it down on his cock, filling her mouth completely. His cock knocked against the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She recovered and began to run her tongue around his shaft, and thrust it into the opening of the penis. Damien grabbed her head and began to fuck her face with brutal strokes, hardly giving her room to breathe. She reached up and grabbed his balls as they swung against her face, slapping her chin, and squeezed them. Damien growled and grabbed her breasts and mauled them, rubbing her nipples in his gauntleted fingers, twisting them, pinching them. He lifted her up and set her down upon his cock, effortlessly holding her in mid air as he fucked her pussy with his huge cock. The barbarian leader was nearly being transported out of her mind with the sensation of a ten inch cock moving in and out her pussy, and when Damien leaned forward and bit one of her nipples, she arched her back and let out a quivering cry that seemed to resound in the morning air as the blast of a herald's trumpet. She began to move, thrusting her hips forward, and rubbing her clitoris furiously and locking her legs around Damien's hips. As a mind blowing orgasm ripped through her, Damien started moving faster and thrust in and out of her almost like the piston of a steam engine. She screamed at the invasion of her pussy and the merciless assault that it was suffering at the hand of this cock, and held on for dear life as Damien shot load and load of cum in her in bursts that seemed to penetrate her very insides. As soon as he was done, Damien pulled out his cock and unceremoniously dumped the girl in the snow. He tucked his cock back in, and rode away, leaving the girl staring at his back, Damien's cum still oozing out of her pussy and dribbling down her thighs.

TO BE CONTINUED...