This is a companion piece to “Women’s Lib (of a Sort).” The theme of female empowerment is the same. It takes place during the same time period, the early 13th century. But there is a new cast of characters and a fresh setting.
Richard the Lionhearted is on the throne of England. The capital city of London is growing all the time, becoming a center of commerce and culture. He is planning his famous crusade to the Middle East and needs to assemble a band of knights who are well trained in the lethal arts. So he holds a series of pageants for known knights to showcase their skills, and for fledgling prospects to prove their talents. These pageants are not to be confused with gladiatorial battles to the death; the King wanted to increase his fighting force, not diminish it.
All types of combat were featured at these pageants. A combatant need not compete in all of them, or even more than just one. Of course it was thrilling to see a favorite competitor win in multiple types of contests. But there were also people who fanatically followed specializing knights, ones who excelled in just one form of combat.
Such was the case of Isobel, a lady in waiting in the court of the Queen. The whole entourage of females, along with all the royals and attendants to the King attended all the pageants. The King’s Champion, a mountain of a man named Frederick, dominated single combat in contests with the broadsword and the mace. It was thrilling to see him approach the royal grandstand, remove the plume or scarf from the top of his armored helmet and give it to the Queen in dedication. One by one, the combatants approached the grandstand before their individual respective contests to give this token, to win that lady’s heart. Late in a long day filled with competitions, a new, unknown knight rode onto the pitch to take part in the jousting. This knight seemed smaller of stature than his fellows, although it was difficult to judge because he was mounted on one of the largest of snorting steeds. He guided his mount to the stands, took the royal blue colored ribbon that decorated the top of his visored helmet off, wound it around the point of his long lance, and lowered it in front of the blushing Isobel. She removed it and wrapped it around her neck.
“I am honored to be your chosen, sir! May I know you by your name?” The knight shook his head back and forth just once. “Very well, then, Blue Knight, I wish you success in the joust. Know, regardless of the outcome, that you have pierced my heart, sir…”
All of the ladies of the court, including the Queen, blushed at this comment, thinking that it was too blatant a reference to Isobel’s virginity. They expressed this by fanning themselves furiously. Isobel did not concern herself with this censure. She was smitten.
All watched in tense silence as two knights took their place at opposite ends of the jousting area. One was the Red Knight, the other the Blue. A flag was dropped and both knights spurred their mounts into a gallop toward one another. The Red Knight was larger than the Blue, the Blue’s horse was larger than the Red’s. The Red Knight was used to winning this event by virtue of his brute strength. The Blue Knight took aim with his lance and kept spurring his mount. His lance hit the Red Knight in the dead center of his armored chest and knocked the man clean off his horse. The crowd erupted in cheers at this unsuspected turn of events. One by one, the Blue Knight faced all the jousters of the day, all with the same outcome. The last to be unseated was the King’s Champion. It seemed like the Blue Knight used finesse against his larger opponents, used honed skill and a cool demeanor with devastating results.
The new Champion returned with his sweating and pawing stallion to his place before the royal assemblage. It was customary for a knight to remove his helmet at this time. The Blue Knight did not do so, and after he saluted the King with his raised lance, made an apology for this, saying he preferred anonymity. Richard the Lionhearted nodded.
“I can understand this impulse, I wish I were unknown a great deal of the time!” his Highness laughed. “Now, what reward can I offer to you for winning the jousting portion of this contest?”
“Permission to pursue the hand of the fair Isobel in your court, starting with a private banquet feast for just the two of us this evening,” the Blue Knight answered through the slits in his visored helmet. There was something unusual about the voice, but everyone assumed it was just the hollowness of it reverberating inside that metal helmet.
“Granted,” King Richard nodded again. “How do you know the young Isobel?”
“I don’t. I’ve always wanted to, and this seems like my chance to advance my cause.”
The King laughed again, rose to his feet, at which everyone not on horseback, both in the grandstand and in the crowd, immediately knelt to him. He walked to where the raven-haired young beauty was on her knees.
“Isobel, you seem to have won the heart of this good knight. Please be kind to that brave heart.”
Isobel spoke her mind when she responded, “The Blue Knight has captured my heart as well, my Lord, as well as destroyed all my defenses. I would be honored to share a banquet with this valiant warrior!”
Richard seemed most pleased. He turned to the knight. “After such a grueling series of battles, may I offer you a hot bath before your tryst?” Bathing was not common in this age, but the knight was dirty and sweaty and muscles were aching, so he nodded. The King smiled and said, “My servants will attend to all your needs.”
Surprising everyone, the Blue Knight returned, “I will bath alone with thanks, your Majesty.”
With hours until their appointed date, Isobel decided to bath in her quarters as well. Even though bathing was not in fashion, indeed was suspected to cause ailments, Isobel was in the habit of taking frequent baths for the simple reason that she liked to masturbate in the steaming, frothy water. One hand attended her virginal folds knowledgeably, while her left hand cleansed and stimulated Isobel’s rear orifice. Her hearty orgasms brought a beguiling blush to her cheeks, a blush that brightened when she instructed her maids to dress her without most of the usual undergarments for her date.
“The Blue Knight has had a demanding day already, I don’t want to challenge him with the arduous task of unlacing a corset or searching beneath a load of petticoats in search of his prize. I wish my body to be as accessible as possible to his attentions, whatever they may be…”
Her most valued confidant, her personal maid, Jocelyn, spoke up. “Mistress, I’ve never heard you speak so wantonly of carnal matters!”
“I’ve never felt so wanton about such matters,” Isobel returned. “You’ve been my maid and friend our whole lives long, Jocelyn. I want you to know that I’ve benefited from your good counsel, as well as enjoyed the ministrations of your tongue and fingers. But tonight, I hope to graduate to understanding the pleasures of a man’s cock. I would not mind if the Blue Knight wanted to possess my virginity and make me his, indeed, it is my most fervent wish…”
Jocelyn knew her place, counted herself blessed to have had so close a relationship with a royal for so long. It was beyond the dreams of most poor girls. And when sexual curiosity had seized both girls years ago, they had experimented together in the Sapphic arts. Both had become quite practiced and expert over the years. Now she helped Isobel into the skimpy undergarments that the lady desired to wear, a tiny velvet brassiere and panties set in lavender purple with dainty lace trim. Jocelyn let her hands linger on the female bits that these scraps of cloth now covered.
“Mistress, I hope that the next pair of hands to touch the body that these garments clothe belong to the Blue Knight, that his touch is twice as pleasurable as mine has been, and that his heart proves worthy of your lustful longing!” With this sentiment, Jocelyn kissed the velvet-enshrined pudendum of her Mistress, thinking it might be for the last time.
It is interesting to note that the Blue Knight could have had bathing attendants just like Isobel was enjoying, servants of either sex, of any orientation, just as knowledgeable in matters of sexual titillation and release. But the Blue Knight had chosen to remain chaste during his lavage, just as the Blue Knight had throughout the long years of martial arts training. It is also worth noting that after the bath, the Blue Knight redressed in tunic, tights, and codpiece, followed by the entire suit of armor, including his ribbon-festooned helmet with its visor down.
A squire knocked on the door. “Whenever you’re ready, sir, I’m here to escort you to the banquet hall.” The Blue Knight nodded. From the opposite end of the castle, Isobel was accompanied by Jocelyn. They arrived at heavy wooden doors at opposite sides of the large hall simultaneously. The squire opened one and bowed low. Jocelyn kissed Isobel on the lips, then whispered something in her ear.
“You enter this portal a maiden. May the Blue Knight fulfill all your hopes, dreams, and aspirations, so as to enter your sacred portal and make you a mistress! Good luck…”
Isobel sought out the mouth of her maid and kissed her passionately. “If he is half as talented a lover as you are, my sweet, I’ll be head over heels in love. He need only have a tender heart and a hard cock to please me!” They both laughed, and Jocelyn closed the door behind her charge.
The Blue Knight and Isobel walked across the cavernous hall toward one another, the former clanking as he went, the latter with silent footfalls. They met across a huge banquet table groaning with all manner of exotic foods.
Isobel spoke shyly, barely above a whisper, “I once own a hunting dog, a hound with a roan coat of red and gray and white. We called him Blue. It’s my favorite name on this celestial ball. May I call you by just Blue?”
The Blue Knight nodded, reached for her hand, brought it to his face, raised his visor an inch, and kissed her hand. Isobel blushed.
“You are not bearded, Blue, as I would expect of a man your age! May I see your face?”
“Yes, when you have decided that you either love me or don’t, so that my face will not influence your thinking,” he answered.
She liked that answer. She took the conversational lead again, “I don’t know about you, but I am famished! It’s almost as if I haven’t eaten all day…”
“I am ravenous, but doubt that mere food, even food this mouth-watering, will satisfy my hunger…” he returned. Isobel began to perspire, even in this drafty hall.
“You strike me as a man of appetites, Blue. What foods tempt you here?” She found herself short of breath, but had not exert herself…
“I have a craving for some of the succulent fruits featured on this sumptuous table,” he said as he filled a pewter plate. “Umm, I’ll take some figs, some papaya from across the far seas, strawberries… May I fed you, Isobel?”
She came around the long table. He boosted her up so that she sat next to the many platters of food. Isobel opened her mouth. He popped a ripe berry in her mouth, as she chewed, juice dribbled out of the corner of her smile and dripped off her chin. He fed her fig and papaya in the same manner, with the same results.
“I’m getting so sticky, so messy! Promise me that you won’t think I’m mannerless!”
Blue raised his visor and kissed her nectar-laden lips, even licking her sticky chin, then lowered the metal drawbridge without her catching a glimpse of what lay behind it.
She tried to peer through the slits in the visor as she confessed, “Your kisses just make me more sticky…” as she reached up and pulled the drawstring on each of her gown’s shoulders. These bows were all that held it together, and the brocade gown fell to the table. She whispered, “I guess I really am mannerless…”
Both could see that her breasts were heaving. The velvet bra could not conceal that her nipples were stiff. Blue took her in his arms and laid her back on the banquet table. Her gown fell to the flagstone floor, her panties so small that they could not contain her swollen labia. Blue made sure that the scrap of garment was not in the way as he laid on top of her. His visor was up, but his face was pressed to hers, his mouth devouring hers. His gauntlet-covered fingers diddled her exposed holes, found her wet and eager. Isobel felt his prodigious manhood pressing against her bare thigh. She arched up to meet him. He was inside her tightness, parting her, filling her, he was up against her virginal hermetically sealed womanhood.
She thrust against him, and after a soft scream pronounced, “I’m yours, take me…”
Blue hammered into her. Her rounded bottom was sitting precariously on mounds of fresh fruit. He pulverized the succulently juicy selections under her tush. Her flexing buttocks ground them up further. Isobel came with a gasp. Blue took her around the throat with both hands and flipped her over. She loved the idea of breath-control, had fantasized about it, so started to climax again as the knight licked her sex and the crack of her ass. This brought her off in a series of orgasms. He thrust into her sex from behind, fucking her just as frenetically in this position.
It was so familiar, yet it was totally foreign. The clitoral stimulation of Blue’s manhood was as satisfying as anything Jocelyn’s tongue ever provided. The penetration of his well-endowed phallus quite enjoyable, more than anything her lesbian lover’s fingers could have accomplished. Blue’s mouth was adept in kissing all of Isobel’s openings. It felt so fulfilling having a man on top of her, while it felt so strange to have that body encased in metal. She had climaxed about three hundred fifty five times, and was conscious that Blue had not yet joined her in this bliss.
“How can I make it orgasmic for you, my love…?” she whimpered over her shoulder.
He kept up the same steady rhythm as he thought, then professed, ‘It is heaven being inside you, riding you, being joined at the sex with you, bringing you off…! Have you ever been possessed up your exquisite arse…?”
“Do you desire me there, my Lord? No, I’ve never been entered there… except for by my fingers, which I quite enjoy…” She reached back and parted her hefty buttocks with both hands. Blue took a handful of ripe olives from the table and squeezed them over her rear dimple. The oil dripped into the tiny orifice. She felt his cock withdraw from her still-spasming sex, felt it press against her virginal other portal.
“Oh, my Lord!” Isobel groaned as she was impaled up the tight spot against the groaning board. After a moment, she seemed to acclimate to the invasion. “Oh, fuck me, my Lord!” She rested her chin on a melon, happily accepting the rogering in hopes of pleasuring her lover most profoundly. Her feelings ran a gamut, it felt slightly painful and totally impure at first. It then began to feel sinfully delicious, something to be savored solely because it seemed so wrong. Next, it started to feel erotic, she could see why some people enjoyed this dirty deed. Finally, her feelings overwhelmed her. It was just as sexual as regular sex but so much more intense! “OH, FUCK ME! My sweet Lord!” It felt like… no, it couldn’t be… oh… yes, yes, it might just… oh, fuck, she was going to climax from a butt fucking…! “YES! I’m close, lover! Keep it up, keep fucking me there, Blue!”
As soon as Isobel started to moan and gasp, Blue flipped her over once more by a hand around her throat. He flipped off his helmet and pressed his face snug against Isobel’s sex. He licked, sucked, chewed, and tongued her pussy as he fingered her rectum.
“OH, FUCK! …You’re a genius… Oh, just like that! You’re a master… a lothario… Oh, fuck, I’ve never… You’re my master… my Lord, my King… You’re…a WOMAN?”
Isobel’s eyes were opened in the throes of orgasm. She saw the face of almighty God, then she saw a ponytail, a pretty face, a feminine face! “Blue?”
“Yes, my Lady,” Blue answered. “I am your lover, your warrior, the conqueror of your heart and sex and butt… and a woman…”
Isobel’s mind was reeling. “But how did you fuck me…?” Blue leaned back to show her his manhood, which amounted to a twist of long leather strands woven together and knotted at the top. It reminded Isobel of the many horse cocks she’d seen, and was nearly as large as some of them. Isobel reeled-in the fact that it had pleasured her expertly, multiple times in multiple places. Still, this revelation was dizzying. “Do you have a pair of breasts under here?” she asked, knocking on Blue’s metal breastplate. The Blue Knight nodded, smiling, and started to unbuckle one side of the armor as Isobel undid the other. “I like titties…” she said, as much to herself for reassurance, and when Blue’s pert breasts were finally revealed, Isobel had to mutter a surprised, “My, yes, you do…” She kissed each one as Blue reciprocated, then realized that her lover needed no time to recover from their last romp. As Blue fondled and sucked and bit each nipple, Isobel spit in her fist and cleaned off Blue’s cock. In just a matter of a moment they were fucking again, Blue’s hand around Isobel’s throat choking her so sweetly, holding her still, Isobel’s buttocks pulverizing more fruit compote as Blue’s hips hammered into her lover’s sex. Maybe it’s better this way, Isobel thought to herself; she’d been in love with Jocelyn, had always loved their love-making. There was no toxic masculinity to have to get used to here. Isobel climaxed. Blue laid next to her on the tabletop as though it was their marital bed. (That is, they were perfectly at peace. Not that most beds are covered with smashed fruit and sticky juices.) Still, something nagged at her. “Do I… know you? You seem familiar, somehow…”
“I was born in this part of London. I knew you as a child,” Blue confessed. “My parents died from the plague. I was taken away by my Grandmother to Liverpool, but I always remembered you, Isobel, always loved you…”
“Oh, my…” whispered Isobel, now entirely smitten. They kissed. When their lips parted, she continued voicing her inner most thoughts. “King Richard will want you to join him on his Crusade…”
“Not when he sees me without my helmet,” and they laughed.
“Maybe he won’t like being fooled…”
“I know all those knights I vanquished won’t!” and she laughed again, but Isobel was hesitant out of fear. “Come back with me to Liverpool, Isobel. I love you!”
It was all so sudden, a veritable whirlwind. But it all felt so right, as if meant to be.
“I would follow you anywhere, the Middle East on a Crusade, to Liverpool, to the ends of the earth!” They kissed again. And when their lips parted this time, she followed-up, “May I bring my personal maid? Her name is Jocelyn. I think you’ll really like her…”
(I found these two pieces of art, the painting above and the photo to the left, and they inspired this story. I am super mindful of WordPress’ rules, but the above painting seems to have been previously censored already. I hope it passes their limitations! I hope that you like this second piece in a series!)