She was in trouble. He was better then her, much better. It was an experience she was completely unfamiliar with. While the other ladies of court were practicing their graces she was practicing her ka-ta. While they studied the latest fashions she was learning new weapon styles. While they danced, she was performing choreography of another sort. While they were being courted she sought out the strongest and most skilled swordsmen in the world and defeated them.
She had her share of trysts and liaisons, but nothing serious. She couldn't see herself with anyone she did not respect. Unfortunately men who were not swordsmen were intimidated by her and those that were failed to meet her skills. If it weren't for the occasional encounter, with performers and bards mostly, there were likely to be many more rumors about her sexual orientation. As it was she maintained the position of Royal Weapons Mistress with the decorum the position entailed.
She ducked under a double handed slash that could have removed her head and shoulders from her body. He wasn't pulling his attacks which forced her to fight with the same intensity. Even as one sword was knocked aside by his swipe the other was darting forward. With momentum dragging his only weapon aside, leaving the right side and most of his lower body completely exposed, she would never have a better chance. Instinctively she traded the damage of a slash for the speed of a thrust. She felt the impact as his sword returned, sending her second weapon wide. She arched back, shifting her weight, as his sword flashed forward. His single bastard sword should be no match for her twin scimitars, but with arms wide all she could hope was to avoid his attack. Her back arched in an attempt to duck the incoming blade, knowing it wouldn't be enough.
He was handsome. The moment she saw him enter the pub she appreciated his body. He had the lean, weathered look of a man living on the road. Even as he moved to the bar and ordered an ale she saw the economy of motion inherent in the best swordsmen. She groaned inwardly as the guards began to hassle him. She was flattered, they often goaded visiting sell-swords into duels for her to test her metal. Unfortunately they were being particularly vicious today. Quickly they offended his honor, as he stood to face the Sargent-at-arms she stepped forward to take the hapless guard's place.
The duel, until one party yielded, was accepted with the simple request for an hour for preparation. When he arrived at the Salle he was wearing similar leather armor to hers, perfect for a master who expected no need for heavy defense but ample agility. She expected the fight to be over quickly but it lasted nearly twenty minutes before that first decisive blow landed. She knew he was better then she but something was wrong, he was making mistakes he shouldn't have been. It wasn't intentional, if she had to guess he hadn't faced an opponent as close to his own skill as she was in years. When she trained the new guards it was often hard to return to sparring against more worthy opponents.
She felt the sword press against her chest even as she dodged back. Desperately she brought her delinquent swords back in even as his thrust was blunted by her lithe maneuver. In came the scimitars forcing his sword away. As she regained her balance he stepped back, sword in a low guard, allowing her time to assess the damage. Looking down she was surprised to see the cotton strap she wrapped around her chest in order to hold tight her breasts. The leather was sliced completely up the center, her armor now little more then a vest.
In frustration she looked up, meeting his eyes. There was a deep respect there, but also something she couldn't identify. Tossing a sword in the air she quickly slipped off the now useless armor. After catching the sword with ease she repeated the process with the other. Placing herself on guard she stood before him, topless but for the cloth wrap around her breasts. She had never before felt uncomfortable about her body, but suddenly, facing off against this master she was slightly embarrassed, and very glad she had locked the Salle against intrusion for the duration of the fight.. As she prepared to continue the fight she saw his respect for her grow while the unidentifiable gleam outpaced his respect.
Suddenly he seemed to come to a decision before hefting his sword and charging. Even on guard it was all she could do to deflect the flurry of blows raining down on her. Somehow his decision had overcome the discomfort of fighting someone considerably more skillful then he was accustomed to. She almost didn't believe it when she saw the opening. A moment later it was gone and her concentration returned to defense. All previous embarrassment and contemplation of the mysterious look in his eyes were forgotten. Half a minute later she spotted the opening once again. He was trapped in a pattern, unfortunately the opening was getting smaller as he subconsciously corrected his weakness. She had two, maybe three more reps before the opening would be gone entirely.
She waited, keeping her right sword ready as best as she could for the imminent opening. She felt, more then saw, the attack that preceded the opening and quickly thrust even as she parried his blow. He twisted deftly aside avoiding most of her attack. As she looked in his eyes the respect remained but the surprise she expected was nowhere to be seen, instead there was laughter as he retreated.
The point of his sword dug into the Salle floor as he shrugged off his own, now useless, armor. She gasped as she saw his bare chest, he was even more attractive then she had thought. Now he was standing with a hand casually on the hilt of his sword, tip still buried in the floor. He launched straight into another series. His sword flashed time and again at her. She felt the breath of air as she barely managed to parry less then an inch from her body time and again. Finally he leapt back again. His eyes laughed at her. The bastard was taunting her. She knew he was goading her to attack but she couldn't stop herself. She charged.
With a quick double flick of his wrists her swords flew across the room. Momentum would carry her forward onto his sword, she closed her eyes as she fell. Instead of cold steel his soft warm arms wrapped around her. He leaned close and whispered in her ear. "I yield." She couldn't understand it. He had forsaken his honor when he literally had her dead to rights.
Her unspoken question was answered a moment later as his head shifted again. His lips met hers causing her heart to race. Her arms, acting seemingly on their own, slipped under his to grasp his shoulders and pull him closer. The court ladies spoke often of this feeling throughout their gossip but she had silently mocked them for it. She couldn't imagine a kiss evoking a true physical response. As she leaned into the kiss she sent a silent apology to those ladies.
Suddenly she was acutely aware of her skin pressing against his. Strange tingles were spreading from her lips and his warmth was rushing straight to her loins. Her hands, still acting without conscious control, slid down his sweat-slicked sides to his rope belt. Her hands slid forward to untie the knot when her eyes flew open. She pushed him to arms length as she looked down. The last, furious, series of attacks had been designed to shred her remaining clothing. In her rage she failed to feel as each meticulous slice weakened her pants until they finally fell apart. She stood before him wearing only the cloth she wrapped around her most sensitive areas.
She stood in shock, only vaguely aware of him moving behind her. Her nerves cried out in pleasure as his arms slid around her waist. A jolt raced through her body as he leaned forward to kiss her neck She spun, fists pounding against his bare chest. He leaned back and caught her hands in one of his, the other remaining around her waist. She was impressed with his strength, her body's desire for him warring with her frustration over his liberties. As he leaned in to kiss her, her body won. Her arms went limp and she pressed against him drinking in his warmth.
Her arms fell as he released them, brining his hand to the back of her head. Her hands once again returned to his belt, deftly untying it, letting his pants fall to the floor. Now they once again stood on equal footing as their bodies pressed together, skin to skin. Instantly his hands found her wrists. Proving his greater strength he slowly forced her arms into the small of her back. The rules were now clear, contest was their passion. Even a demonstration of their feelings would involve a struggle for dominance.
His head darted forward, taking her nipple into his teeth through the fabric. He bit, hard enough to cause a slight amount of pain. She gasped as pleasure and pain mixed within her chest. His jaw loosened and he began to suck and lick, her tender flesh protected only slightly by the cloth wrap. The slight pain that still remained merged with the agonizing sensation he created as his tongue darted out, flicking against her engorged nipple.
Her head flew back as a moan escaped her lips. She had to stop his ministrations, to regain control. The thin fabric wrapped around her lust grew moist as he tormented her. Knowing she couldn't overcome his strength she lifted a leg straight up, parallel to their bodies. Her inner knee caught on his shoulder and she used the leverage to force away his head. She felt his grip lessen in surprise and she used his moment of distraction to reverse the grip, now taking his wrists in opposite hands. She couldn't overpower him but her training had included grappling against much larger opponents.
A quick twist of her wrists and his arms were away from their bodies. She kicked off with the leg still on the ground and used the position of her other leg to adjust her body against his. For a moment she was in the air, still in contact with him, but completely off guard. Had he anticipated the maneuver the struggle would have been over, as it was she ended her maneuver pressed against him, knees locked around his neck, hands holding his arms out wide and head within inches of his groin. No conventional doctrine taught this position but this was a most unconventional fight.
Her head shifted forward slowly, tormenting him with the reversal of fortune. All of his strength mattered little in this position as she gently but firmly applied torque to his wrists. Lips pressed against the fabric that now constrained his member. She could feel it pulsing as his passion fed more blood to the ravenous beast of his lust. She pulled back her lips, carefully using her teeth to shift each layer of the cloth wrap aside. Her deliberate speed a fitting retribution for his earlier confidence. As the last layer shifted to reveal her prize the rest of the fabric fell to the floor. She smiled in anticipation before lips parted, enveloping then pulling on his engorged shaft.
A short gasp of pleasure escaped his lips. Leaving her lips in place she smiled, knowing the expression would add a little pressure and even laughed slightly. She didn't know why but he actually moaned the moment she laughed. She had never done this to a man, they had all been too afraid of her to ask. What few tricks she knew came from listening to those same court ladies share tips.
Suddenly she was airborne. As her body twisted to land lightly on her feet she tried to figure out what had happened. With every technique she had used he should have been completely immobile. Of course he could have let his legs buckle but she would certainly have been able to force him to collapse backwards. Somehow her legs simply launched into the air, dragging her body with her. The tips of her feet touched ground and even as weight shifted to the balls of her feet she spun to face him. Except he wasn't there.
An arm snaked around her from behind. As he pulled her tight against him she could feel his lust pressing accusingly against her lower back. The strength of his embrace held one arm tight while his arm crossed her chest, just under her limited covering, ending in a hand clenched firmly around her opposite elbow. His other hand moved across the fabric covering her chest, tingles of energy shook her breasts. She was in trouble once more as the position relied mostly on a contest of strength.
She bit off a high scream as he slid the first layer of fabric from her breast, intentionally dragging it across her tortured nipple. Warmth coursed through her body when he brushed his finger across it a few times only to follow with another layer of wrapping and more delightful torment.
Her will was quickly flowing from her. Muscles deep within clenched and released demanding to surround the warm organ still pressed against her. Her instinctive struggles weakened with each layer of fabric as his endurance began to prove superior. Her body was shaking from the pleasure coursing through her. Her heart raced as she spent her final gasp of resolve. Her legs, dangling as he held her tight off the ground, wrapped around his to kick against the backs of his knees. The collapse to the floor breaking his grip.
As each struggled to right themselves they reached an impasse, hands entwined. He was staring at her breasts, now freed from the remainder of her wrapping through the fall and struggle. "By the Goddess. You're perfect in every way!" It was a whisper she probably wasn't meant to hear. She couldn't help herself, She was staring in open, unrestrained, hunger at his cock, bobbing slightly as his body failed to enlarge it further. They remained paralyzed for a minute by the final sight of each other.
She lunged as her need finally overcame all skill, training and thought. She was aware of her own mistake as her body sought to impale itself on him. Surprise drifted through the haze of constrained pleasure as she realized the speed and ferocity of the attack succeeded in pinning him to the ground. Faster then lightning his hands darted out, once again grasping her wrists, and jerked her arms harshly back. The overall effect was to force her, kneeling straddled over his arms, to lay back against his body, her legs folded beneath her.
Pain began to slowly build in her hips before he shifted slightly easing the tension. Pleasure burst forth from between her legs. She was screaming, her inability to move or flee amplifying the sudden sensations. First his head lifted and his teeth literally tore the now drenched fabric from her. Lips pressed firmly against her soft skin, leaving his chin digging slightly into her depths, as he quickly sucked her luscious mound into his mouth.
Her creamy passion flooded into and over him as his tongue flicked back and forth across her. She screamed and writhed. She had lost the battle but she no longer cared as every nerve overpowered her with exquisite sensation. She was losing her very identity to his furious ministrations. Her hips pressed against his face seeking more of the empowering maneuvers. Her traitor body shook beyond her control as his mouth worked her overly sensitive lust harder and faster. Finally, close to losing consciousness, she admitted her failure, screaming for him to stop. To her surprise he did.
Her breathing was harsh and shallow as she collapsed against his legs. As feeling began to return to her numbed body she felt him pressing firmly into her back. She was weak, all muscle control long gone, as she felt him shifting her hips. Tired eyes flew wide as she felt the tip of his shaft enter the upper edge of her buttocks. She had seen his size and feared he would take advantage of her earlier failure by plunging himself in her tightest orifice. He slid closer as he lifted her hips further. She tried to lift her arms, to fight, but her body lacked the ability. She was truly at his mercy.
A whimper escaped her as she felt his tip settle slightly into tightened muscles. She felt his hands shift position, likely for more power to force himself past unyielding flesh. She sighed in extreme relief as she felt her loins shifting further back. Almost before the motion registered his hips leaped forward, plunging his thick organ hard within sweet depths his lips and chin had only recently vacated.
Her screams rang throughout the hall as she discovered the previous heights of pleasure were nothing more then foothills. With his first thrust his legs spread, spilling her to the ground. As he pulled free his feet curved behind him, leaving him kneeling between legs held limply open. He was leaning over her slightly as he quickly thrust back in. The passion surging from her over-stressed lust sent new energy to her arms, causing them to flash forward and grab at his sides, nails digging furrows. Legs wrapped around his hips but instead of drawing him fully in and holding him safely there, as her fogged mind prayed for, they worked in concert with his body to amplify each surge.
There was no hall, no world, beyond his warmth and power. Her concentration focused entirely on his shaft in an effort to maintain consciousness through incredible ecstacy. The muscles of her treasured depths tightened against his intrusion in an attempt to heighten his passion and pull him deeper within.
In her focus she knew the moment before he exploded within her as his member pulsed and thrashed erratically despite its confined position. The extra force proved to much for her. She felt his body collapsing forward onto her even as she felt herself falling into the darkness. But it was not the darkness of which she thought. It was not the darkness that she knew and feared she was truly falling into. She had found the man she could respect.