The Enchanted Rider Ch. 01

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The fire crackled and lit the sparse camp in flickers and sparks. Jameson sat on a stump he had drug near the fire, and turned a skinned quail and some tubers on the little spit he’d propped between two sticks. He looked to his horse, grazing on it’s own, and smiled. He wasn’t far from the town, but that particular horse was pretty mean tempered, so he wasn’t worried about thieves.

Absently he sipped on a wine flask, and poked at the fire as drips of fat flared brightly from time to time. The ride from Hashemore had been uneventful, albeit a touch boring. But boring was a good problem to have these days.

The quail was bland, but good. The tubers, slightly sweet and hot, his wine slightly cool from the flask’s design. He reached into the pouch on his hip. His arm disappearing an impossible length. From the depths of the bag, he plucked a wrapped candy and popped it into his mouth. It was a simple magic bag, but the ability to put anything into it that would fit the mouth and carry it without weight was very handy to riders such as he.

The pot the pouch had provided bubbled with near boiling water, and having been dosed with some soap, smelled quite fragrant as he pulled it from near the fire. He let the water cool a touch as he removed his shirt and trousers. His bedroll was already set up, but he would be going into town early, so best to clean up now. A good impression made early is one that lasts all day.

He poured the soapy water into another bowl, then added more water from a large water-skin back to the pot and set it by the fire to warm up as he scrubbed. Being naked in the wilderness was always a touch odd, but being the only person for a day’s ride or so was some comfort. He stood in his leather sandals and worked the rag into a lather, then applied it from one area to the next. Clean to dirty, his mom always said. Face, hands, belly, legs. Rinse. Lather, arm-pits. Rinse. Lather, unmentionables. Then rinse the rag in cold water. Then rinse the rag in the warm water, and then the rest of the body.

The drying was the worst, but the linen towel from the bag helped things along, though it’s scratchy cloth was a little unwelcome. He stood naked before the fire, muscles rippling in the moonlight. He was quite fit; war had a way of doing that to you, especially swinging sword and wearing armor. His strong body never had much trouble with the ladies, especially his quite significant equipment. It was their minds he never could really get over.

He was a warrior with some land, sure. But matters of the court bored him to tears. He had very little dealings with the land he held, in all honesty, most of it being run by his trustee while he traveled from here to there lending his sword where needed. Monthly, he’d send word to his man, who would courier some gold to a town of Jameson’s choosing. If he’d made monies, he’d send what he didn’t need back with the man, otherwise he’d keep it. Every so often he’d stop back by home to rest and recover. The time was usually a good way to remind his man that he still ran things, but given the freedom the man had and Jameson’s good nature there wasn’t much reason for treason.

It was a good arrangement, overall. His experience at battle grew as the months went by, and soon he would return home, finally able to open a school of fighting, being a man of some notoriety. That would be his gift, his legacy to his land. Often he dreamt of a majestic teaching house, students in the courtyard, the clang of blacksmiths as they worked weapons and armor for his students. Soon. Soon he would return with the gold and notoriety he needed to make dream a reality.

He slipped off his slippers and worked through some training movements, battling imaginary opponents one after another. His weighty appendage swung oddly as he moved, but he was too absorbed in the movements to pay it any mind.

His easy workout complete, he pulled a soft down pillow from the pouch and tossed them both up into the hammock he’d strung just above his head. He made sure the camp was tidied up, set out his alarm line, and climbed the knotted rope leading to the hammock. He pulled the rope up and coiled it at his feet. The undead couldn’t climb trees, so this made the alarm rope unnecessary, but it was habit anymore.

The sound of crashing pans awoke him, but years of experience, kept him from startling awake. Slowly he looked down from the edge of his hammock, to the noise below. The last few flickering embers of fire revealed a sight he had not expected to see. There, among what was once his camp kitchen, was a thief.

The thief was curiously positioned, sincan escort face-down, stiff as a board with one foot in the pot, and the other sticking straight up, frozen mid stride. “Ahh…” He chuckled to himself. He lowered the rope, and gingerly climbed down.

He brushed off his hands, and walked to the thief, “I’m pretty sure you weren’t expecting that anymore that I was expecting thievery all the way out here.”

The thief let out a slight whimper.

“Oh, what’s that you say? You can’t move? Ahh, well. I will admit that may be my doing.” He pulled the stump to the side of the paralyzed burglar and sat upon his pillow. “You see, I dabble in magics. No spells really, just enchantments. I can’t see it because I bet it’s under you, but you have in your left hand a sword I would guess.”

There was more whimpering.

“That sword was my first enchanted object. You see, I am warrior first so it’s a very good sword, and the first thing I could think of to enchant as I learned. It has many on it actually, so had you actually been able to sell it it would be quite valuable. Ah, but there’s the rub. By touching it, you activated my first enchantment. It paralyzes anyone not me who tries to wield it, though not perfectly; you can still wiggle a little, and breathe as well. But you know that already.”

He stood and put his foot onto the leather jacket of the hooded thief. “Lets get a good look at you.”

When he kicked the thief over it was like kicking a log, and as he made eye contact, those eyes weren’t looking at his, they were looking between his legs. He looked down sheepishly, but then back to the thief. It suddenly struck him… his thief was a woman. A quite beautiful woman. Her blonde hair was up in a braid and her face was blacked with charcoal, but she was beautiful none the less.

“Oh, this is just too good. What ever shall I do now? Do you owe me for trying to steal from me, or would that be dishonorable? Taking advantage of the desperate, even?” He laughed as he sat the thief up, pulling the hood from her head, and positioning her not unlike a giant doll. He closed her mouth, and noticed her eyes blink, albeit slowly. “Good, I didn’t want you to dry out. Maybe we can use that to communicate, even.” There as a whimper.

“One blink for yes, and two for no, if you please. Understand?” There was some question regarding weather she would understand. He was speaking in the trade tongue, common enough around most cities and sea ports that most folks knew at least some, but he didn’t know where she hailed from, though even farming folks knew a bit of common. Besides, she being a thief made her more likely to interface with traders to fence her goods.

One slow blink.

He stood. “Excellent!” He paced back and forth. “So the real question now is what shall we do. See, I being a landed lord have certain rights, yes?”

There was a slow blink.

“You, most likely have no land?”

Another blink.

“I thought not.” He continued as he paced the camp. “So by the kings orders… we are in the lands ruled by the Kings court by the way… his rules hold sway over what goes on here. Had you been a land owner, we could have had a duel with terms and settled it that way. But that is not the case.” He looked at the fore for a few seconds before turning back to his captive.

“Had you accosted me a day or two ago, we’d be in the free lands and this discussion would be much different. But since we are here, and you are in possession of stolen property that belongs to me, it’s the king’s rules. Two days ago, it would be the rules of the road, and it would have been my right as a traveler to do whatever I wished, including running you through with that sword there. Yet here we are. So as it is, I believe the punishment is either 3 years in the King’s jail, or 6 years my servant? Does that sound right?”

Another blink, though this one took time to come.

“I can see you are a beautiful woman, under all that black. That will do you well, if you choose me, but almost certainly won’t do you any favors in jail.” He sat back down on the stump. “I’ll be upfront. On my lands I have plenty of people for housekeeping, farming, tending the lands…” His voice trailed off as he thought.

“Here on the road, I don’t need attendants like that. Further, I have no wife and no engagements. I have no need really, and provided you are healthy, you could fulfill all my carnal needs just fine, provided that’s your thing. You will be my courtesan. It would free me from the worry of finding quality companionship here on the road, and give me some much demetevler escort bayan appreciated companionship.” He looked at her. Almost as a second thought, he continued. “If you prefer women, something could be worked out of course as I do enjoy watching, but it would complicate things.”

There was a little whimper.

“I could make the choice, it being my right and all. However, I feel it more humane to let you choose. Sure, you are paralyzed, and I am telling you that you will be a used for sex, or imprisoned, but you can ask my people, I am truly a just lord.” He noticed her eyes falling to his sizable semi-erect sex and smiled. “Besides, there could be benefits for you under my sheets besides the gold allowance.”

Her eyes went slowly wide at this.

There was a smile in his voice. “Ahh, a thief and her gold. Of course there will be an allowance. I can’t have my courtesan following around in black leathers, though it is a good look for you. You’ll be looked after. New clothes, some jewelry.”

Her eyes closed. Then re opened, looking directly at his eyes.

“So, what will it be, thief? Me, or the tower? Make it one blink for me, or two for the King’s tower.”

There was one blink.

“Just the one?” he chided. “Excellent. It’s settled then.” Jameson stood and walked to the bag hanging from the hammock. Reaching in he produced a small book and flipped through it. After several moments he turned to the thief, pointed at her and said several phrases. Her hands and head moved a little more than before, and a soft voice spoke.

“Thank you,lord.”

“Ahh, she speaks.” His grin was wide and genuine. “Well, don’t thank me much just yet. That was supposed to free you, but the spell is old and has grown in power without use. You are the first person not me to touch the sword, you see, so it turns out my dear, you are stuck like that for at least the next few hours.”

“At least I can thank you for sparing my life, lord.”

Jameson put the book back into the pouch and closed it, turning to the woman. “So formal, now that you are in my service. What is your name?”

“Gaeil Brickmon, Lord” He walked back toward her, and stood in front of her.

“I like that. A good strong name. And please do away with the lord, bit. Soon, we will be too close for formalities.”

She smiled and looked away. When she looked back, she was looking at his member, now becoming close to it’s full, impressive size. He saw her looking and walked a step closer.

“I must admit, while not normally my thing, the idea of having you while you can’t do anything about it is quite tantalizing, as you can see.”

She looked up at him, a sultry smile that raised a corner of her mouth. “I of all people, hate being helpless. But I have a feeling that that thing will make it bearable.”

He stepped one last step closer and his engorged head slipped into her hot mouth when she leaned forward. Her jaw was a little uncomfortable at the large size, but not terribly so.

“Mmmm… It’s been a while since that’s had the attention of a woman.”

Her skills on his member were impressive. She held him in her mouth, and while she did have the ability to move her head back and forth she did not, instead she ran her tongue back and forth on the sensitive underside of him. His hips bucked slowly, and he pushed her hood back, running his hand over her blonde hair.

Skillfully she worked on him, and his thrusts became more and more urgent. She drug wonderful sounds from his mouth as she worked.

Suddenly, his movements stopped and she sucked harder onto him, working her tongue furiously on his underside. “Good Gods!” he exclaimed. His come came in thick, powerful jets, puffing her cheeks out between swallows.

He slid his glistening member out from her smiling mouth slowly after a few seconds recovery, savoring every movement, hands on either side of her face. “You my dear, are amazing. I wish I could unfreeze you all the way. I have some particular skills you may enjoy.”

Still smiling, a small drop of his cum rolled down the corner of her mouth. “You moved me here, you can likely move me other ways. Prisoner or no, I’d love to feel that thing do it’s work.”

Tenderly her touched her face, “I think I can figure something out.” He walked back to the pouch and reached in again. It took just a few seconds, but he drew out a large blanket from the small bag. Carefully he laid it down on the ground by the dying fire. As a second thought, he tossed a couple more branches on.

He walked back to Gaiel. With careful fingers he worked at the lacing of her leather jacket. “This is a nice jacket. Without touching it, you cannot see the ring armor underneath.”

“I have rings all over.” She smiled again, admiring how careful he was with his “Prisoner”.

He placed the jacket on the ground and admired all that it hid. Her breasts weren’t as impressive as her thickly muscled arms, though both were hidden under a thin short sleeved tunic. As he slid the shirt off, her impressive physique was suddenly on display. The only things as hard as all her impressively hard muscles were her berry sized nipples, perfectly sized for her smallish, pert breasts and each adorned with small gold rings.

“You take good care of yourself, Gaiel.” He ran an appreciative hand all over her hard body.

A small, “Mmm,” escaped her lips. “I run rather than fight, but sometimes, they corner the cat.”

He knelt and covered one nipple with his mouth. Gingerly he rolled the hard nub of flesh around in his mouth, suckling and teasing it, and pulled on the ring with his lips. “These are are pretty,” he said as he toyed with the gold ring of her right nipple.

“My flesh hasn’t seen the attention of a man in a while, either.” Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the sensation.

He stood, lifting her and awkwardly positioning her, bent at the waist and leaning on the stump for balance.

“This may be one of the nicer leather covered asses I have seen.”

“Hurry with these pants and see it without.”

He smiled at that, and worked at the belt and laces, finally drawing them over her bubble butt and down her thickly muscled thighs. It took some work, but he finally stood before a bent over, very delicious ass, the puffy and wet folds of her sex beckoned to him. There was a small string of moisture dripping from her and he stood behind her.

“May I?”

“You damn well better.”

He grabbed himself, and rubbed the swollen head over her moist opening. He thrust forward and he glided over her sex, traveling along her belly and coming to a stop near her belly button.

“You, sir, will be a challenge I do accept.”

He smiled, with one hand on her hip and the other guiding himself, he slid tortuously slow into her. Half way in, he stopped. “My god, is that all of it?” she asked with a ragged breath.

“Just half way, dear…”

“Oh gods…”

Smoothly, he pulled himself most of the way out and slid back in, this time not stopping until his thighs met her fine ass cheeks. She was quivering despite the spell, and making whimpering sounds. “Are you ok,” he asked tenderly. His hands slowly caressing her back, hips, and thighs.

“Oh Gods yes, but I need more…”

He gave her more. His thrusts started slow and long. The massive head touching parts of her that had never been touched by a man at the same time. Her breaths came in long moans and hisses through clenched teeth. Suddenly her pussy clamped down on him, causing him to slow his strokes, and her voice cracked, “GODS!! Ahh…” He did not stop. Instead his thrusts came faster, the strokes shorter, a steady clap, clap rhythm developing. “Ohhh…Ohh…Ohh…” she breathed with every thrust of his girth. Then again her loins clutched onto him, this time releasing a flood of moisture onto him and the ground below, accompanied by a long low moan.

“A squirter…,” he said with a smile on his voice. “I have chosen… a good companion… for my bed…” His words coming in breathy bursts while he worked. His tempo again increased, the slaps coming staccato, the massive organ pounding her puffy flesh in longer faster strokes. The orgasm from her mouth, prolonging his constitution. Her moans were almost constant now, a steady stream of babble, screams or moans came from her lips. Suddenly his hips stopped, the thick shaft buried deep in her and he let out a sting of profanity. “Holy…Gods..Fuck…Coming…Ahhhahhh…”

She could feel deep within herself his organ pumping his fluid into her. This sent her over the edge, and again, fluids ran from her, mixing with his as he overfilled her. Suddenly, her legs gave out, and barely in time he grabbed her, letting her gently to the ground, his deflating organ popping free, pulling a gasp from her as it exited her strained sex.

He eased her to the ground, and snuggled up beside her, pulling her to him, spoon fashion, and wrapped his arm over her, her head laying on his other. She turned her blackened face to him and smiled, reaching her hand to touch his face. Their kiss was sweet, tender and sensuous. All things that were in a way, unexpected given the apparent coercion of their agreement.

“I can think of worse ways to break a spell,” she said, returning her head to his arm, staring back at the dwindling fire. They both laughed. She moved her face to his, and he kissed her on the tip of her nose.

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