FAITHFUL JOHN AND THE DUNGEON RAVENS
An erotic short story
Giselle Renarde
Published by Accent Press Ltd 2010
Copyright © Giselle Renarde 2010
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY
Digital Edition converted and published by Andrews UK Ltd 2010
Faithful John and the Dungeon Ravens
by Giselle Renarde
He couldn’t bear to see her so weak and weary. ‘The Queen is a whore,’ he teased, in a desperate attempt to raise her spirits. ‘Long live the Queen!’
Offering a weak smile, she pulled her faithful servant to her bedside. ‘Look at me, John. I’ll be dead within the hour.’
‘No, no, no,’ he protested, rubbing her hand. ‘You can’t die on me. Who will I serve? Who will run the dungeon? Who will get me off?’
Her laughter scintillated like gold in a riverbed. ‘If you can’t get yourself off, I’m sure one of my girls will be happy to help you out. Think of yourself as a lifetime member.’
Shaking his head, he replied, ‘The dungeon would be nothing but a squalid brothel without you, my Queen.’
‘Yes, I really class up the joint,’ she chuckled, licking her lips and raising her eyebrows like a cheap flirt.
‘Will you stop all this?’ John pleaded. Abandoning her touch, he paced the floor, rubbing his palms together until they were hot with friction. Though he was far younger than she, his wit and wisdom surpassed his years. ‘What will I do without you?’
‘Faithful John,’ she sighed, patting a place beside her on the mattress. He sat down and again took her hand. ‘I want you to make me a promise. When I am dead and gone…’
‘No!’ he refused. ‘Don’t talk like that.’
‘Shhh…’ she comforted, petting his cheek in solace. ‘When the inevitable occurs, I need you to take my son under your wing.’
‘Edward’s a grown man,’ John reasoned. ‘What could he possibly need of me?’
‘Your faithful service. Don’t fool yourself, my lover. Your dedication makes you invaluable to this family.’
‘Thank you, my Queen,’ he replied with a deep bow.
‘I want you to open the dungeon to him.’
Faithful John opened his mouth to refuse, but when his gaze met the hope in her eyes, he said, ‘I will serve him with fidelity, even if it should cost me my life.’
‘Drama Queen,’ she accused with a smile. ‘After my death, please show him all the treasures the castle hides – all the chambers, halls, and vaults of the dungeon. Let him sample my girls. Teach him what to do if he hasn’t already figured it out; just make sure to keep him out of the last chamber in the long gallery.’
‘Mistress Mei’s room? Why is that off-limits?’
She looked at him as though the question were ridiculous. ‘That woman is a stone fox. One look at her, and he’ll fall violently in love, drop down in a swoon, and you know where that’ll lead.’
‘Oh, that’s right…the curse.’
‘You must protect him from it,’ the Queen pleaded. ‘Promise me.’
‘I do,’ Faithful John replied, squeezing her hand tighter as her grip faded into nothing. ‘I promise.’
Three ravens on a branch outside the open window bowed their heads. ‘Let it be known: The Queen is dead,’ they cawed, sending word across the trees.
‘What is this curse of which the Queen spoke?’ the smallest bird asked the others. ‘And who is Mistress Mei?’
The older ravens looked at one another. ‘In the dungeons of the castle live the women of ill-repute,’ said the first.
‘Mistress Mei is among them,’ continued the second and largest bird. ‘I saw her not a fortnight ago, when I found a passage into her lair. Her hair was as black as my wings. She was an exotic beauty, tall and slim, with ropes for stringing men up, and a dagger close at hand.’
‘But what of the curse?’ the young one demanded.
‘Ah yes,’ the large raven replied. ‘The curse…’
Faithful John led the newly-coronated King Edward down the stone staircase, with only a torch to guide them through the darkness. In the distance, men’s voices cried out in anguish. Some begged for mercy, others begged for more.
‘What is this place?’ the young king asked, clinging blindly to the servant’s coat-tails. ‘In 23 years, I’ve never been down here.’
Faithful John paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to face the boy. ‘On her deathbed, your mother asked me to share this secret with you.’
‘Is this a torture chamber?’
‘Only for those who wouldn’t wish it,’ Faithful John began. ‘For those who would, it is desire fulfilled.’
Walking ahead, the devoted servant pulled open a rich velvet curtain to reveal a scene the likes of which young Edward might never have conceived. On a thick lumber platform in the cold stone room lay a bald man. He was on his back, immobilized, his ankles tied to his wrists like a giant, naked pig ready for roasting.
When the stunning creature securing the knots stepped out from behind the pig-man, Faithful John made the introductions. ‘Edward, meet Mistress Jasmina. Jasmina, our new King.’
Her full breasts bounced as she curtsied, a move that seemed to Edward excessively formal for a woman wearing only a leather half-corset. Mesmerized by the sway of her bronze tits with their dark, pointed nipples, he only noticed the polished wooden phallus she wore when she began petting it.
‘Are you here to watch?’ she asked. Her words were shaped formally, but syrup-sweet. ‘To assess my performance, perhaps?’
‘I don’t know why I’m here,’ he stammered, glancing quickly up at Faithful John before returning his drooling gaze to Jasmina.
‘Not to be a bother,’ the stuck pig spoke up, ‘but could somebody close the curtain? Rather draughty ’round the nether regions, I should say.’
‘Shut up, pig,’ Mistress Jasmina commanded in a tone hard and firm. ‘I’m speaking with the king. Do you fancy yourself more important that the king?’
‘No, Mistress,’ he gushed. ‘I’m sorry, Mistress. Sorry, King Edward. My deepest sympathy, by the way, on the passing of your dear mother.’
‘Shut up, you loud-mouthed swine!’ she scolded. With a casual shrug, she said to Faithful John, ‘This is why I usually gag them.’
‘I don’t understand any of this,’ Edward intruded. ‘What has this man done to deserve such punishment? And what is that you’re wearing around your waist?’
A chuckle like granulated sugar glittered from Jasmina’s pink lips. ‘Such innocence! It’s rare, nowadays.’
‘This place is a playground for people who find pleasure in pain,’ Faithful John revealed.
The giddy excitement fell from Edward’s face, though not from his pants. ‘Why would my mother allow this?’
‘She built it,’ the servant replied.
‘Your mother was a pro, kid,’ Jasmina chimed in. With another curtsey, she corrected herself. ‘King, not kid. Sorry.’
‘Your façade of cruelty diminishes with each apology,’ the forgotten pig sang.
‘Façade?’ Mistress Jasmina cried. Rushing to his side, she took his flat pink nipples between her plump fingers and pulle
d up on them until his man-breasts formed cones sticking out of his chest. ‘You think I put this on like a mask, you swine?’
Twisting his nipples in opposite directions, she asked young Edward, ‘Do you mind if I get on with this one? You’re welcome to watch, or join or…well, whatever you want; you are the king!’
To Faithful John, he replied, ‘What is all this?’
‘Watch and learn,’ John bid as Jasmina produced two metal clamps on a long, thin chain.
The pig-man hissed as she secured one to his left nipple. She strung the chain around his ankles and wrists, clamping the other to his right nipple. The pig-man released another hiss, which sounded rather like a ‘yessssssss!’
‘Do you see what I’ve done?’ Jasmina probed. The king nodded vaguely, gaping at her naked tits. She continued nonetheless, ‘Now if he tries to set his feet down, the chain pulls on his nipple clamps to punish him.’
Edward shook his head. ‘But why?’
Mistress Jasmina smiled slyly. Dabbing her fingers in some mystery substance from a bowl beside the platform, she rubbed them against pig-man’s throbbing asshole.
‘What are you doing?’ the young king shrieked in revulsion.
‘Don’t knock it,’ Faithful John chimed.
The pig-man moaned as Mistress Jasmina thrust a sharp-nailed finger up his ass.
‘Silence!’ she commanded.
Young King Edward held his breath until he realised she wasn’t talking to him. The strung-up victim pressed his lips tight together while Mistress Jasmina dug around inside him like she was trying to scratch through the surface.
‘You don’t deserve this, you filthy farm creature,’ she went on, taking his waning cock in her fist and pumping it. Her tits swelled and heaved as she tugged at that soft dick.
‘What, you can’t even get hard in the presence of my great beauty?’
To torment him further, she took the clamp chain between her teeth and pulled at his yielding nipples. When he shrieked in pain, a devilish grin bled across Jasmina’s lips. ‘Sounds like somebody doesn’t want to get fucked up the ass,’ she cooed, feigning kindness.
‘Oh, I do, I do…please, Mistress Jasmina, please fuck me!’
‘What did I ask for?’ she purred.
After a moment of contemplation, he whispered, ‘Silence.’
‘Good pig,’ she replied, coating her wooden cock with goo. Placing the slick piece against his grasping asshole, she resumed hold of his feeble cock. She yanked it as she pressed the dildo into his hole. His face went from pink to crimson as she thrust deeper. He bit his lower lip, but made no sound.
‘Very good,’ Jasmina encouraged. As her hips rocked, her heavy tits swung about. Edward had to cross his legs just to hold it together, but nothing escaped the Mistress’ perception. She bid, ‘Come here, great King Edward. Show this barn-dweller what a real cock looks like.’
‘I don’t think so…’ he began, creeping toward her. Her appeal was magnetic.
‘Humiliate him, my liege. That’s why he’s here. He wants it.’
Releasing the flaccid dick, she held her hand out for the king’s sturdy, young cock.
‘Is that really what you want?’ King Edward asked the pig-man.
He nodded an eager yes in response, so Edward dropped his trousers and let Mistress Jasmina do as she wished. When she took his cock in her palm, he nearly fell to his knees. His age betrayed him. Jasmina had barely issued four good pumps before his thighs began to tremble. ‘Oh no…’ he lamented.
Pulling out of the pig-man, the beautiful Mistress stepped to the right and positioned the king behind him. She jerked Edward off from the side. He might have held it together had she not pressed her tits against his arm. Those warm mounds brought cum shooting from the depths of his balls to land in streams of hot whiteness across the pig-man’s chest and stomach.
Aiming his cock at those big pink thighs, she tugged on the king’s rod until every last drop of jizz coated her victim. Cream dripped down his ass as Jasmina smacked it, releasing spurts of toxic air.
‘Now, tell your good King how much you love his cum,’ Mistress Jasmina commanded.
‘I love your cum, King Edward.’
‘Tell him you wish your tongue could reach your backside so you could lick his sweet jizz from your ass.’
He paused. ‘What she said.’
‘Say the words,’ she demanded, her voice dark and low.
‘I wish I could lick your cum from my ass.’
‘Good piggie,’ Jasmina cooed, unclamping his nipples.
‘Let’s move on,’ Faithful John suggested, motioning for Edward to pull up his trousers.
‘Thank you for stopping by,’ Jasmina said with a smile. As Edward passed her, she grabbed his hand and cupped it against her left breast. His knees nearly gave out. He couldn’t meet her gaze.
‘Long live the king!’ the pig-man cheered.
Recapturing his breath, Edward dragged his exhausted body into the stone hallway. The cries of rapture were more pronounced out there.
‘What was that thought?’ Faithful John probed as the king stood in silence.
He shook his head. ‘It’s all so sordid.’
‘But you seemed to enjoy yourself.’
‘Yeah…’ he began, brushing stone dust from his trousers. ‘But where’s the romance?’
‘Romance?’ Faithful John scoffed. ‘There is no fairytale romance in real life. There is only lust and longing and fulfilment of desire. Take what you can while you can get it, because life isn’t as long as you think.’
Perched on a beam overhead, the younger raven asked the older ones, ‘Is that true?’
They contemplated deeply before responding to the deceptively simple question, and then both replied, ‘No, little one.’
They watched the king and Faithful John saunter down the corridor, peeking through curtains and meeting the residents and guests of the dungeon. When they arrived at the gallery hallway, the servant gently diverted the king. Edward turned to gaze at the entrance to Mistress Mei’s room, asking why he could not enter.
‘I know you have my best interest at heart, but I’m the king now. This is my castle. I need to know what’s going on down here.’
‘That’s a perfectly sensible argument,’ John reasoned, ‘but, please, just trust me. It’s better if you leave it.’
Edward stood staring at the doorway for a moment before turning away in false-dejection. With Faithful John convinced he would walk away, the king spun on his heels and ran down the long hallway. When he swung open the heavy wooden door, his jaw dropped at the beauty of the woman within. She was slimmer than Mistress Jasmina, her black hair straight and shimmering in the low light of the dungeon. A strip of yellow silk worn like a halter covered her small breasts. Her matching skirt, slit down both sides, concealed long legs.
She stood at the foot of a ladder, an icy passion burning in her eyes. ‘I heard you’d be coming around.’
‘Yes,’ Edward stammered as Faithful John approached behind him.
‘We must be getting back now,’ he intruded. ‘My apologies, Mistress Mei.’
‘Mei,’ the king repeated, her name like wine on his tongue.
‘Faithful John,’ Mei sang, pouting in disappointment. She extended her hand to the king. ‘Let the boy stay for a little while. I’ve planned something spectacular.’
‘I’m staying,’ the king confirmed. After all he’d witness in the dungeon, he was dying to be the sole submissive to one of its mistresses. ‘That’s final.’
In a huff, Faithful John pushed past him and into Mei’s chamber. What could he say? He was, after all, the ever-devoted servant.
‘I’d like to start you off gently,’ Mei stated, crossing the chamber to retrieve a length of rope.
&nbs
p; ‘Nothing in my ass, if you don’t mind.’
She smirked. ‘Don’t worry; not my specialty.’
The king ventured a few steps toward her, leaning his elbow on a rung of the ladder. Mistress Mei’s aroma was heavy with spice, uplifted by the scent of oranges. When she breathed, her silk top rippled against her chest. Her dark nipples were hard and amply visible through the fabric. ‘What is your specialty?’
With one swift move, she grabbed his wrists and secured them above his head. ‘Bondage.’
The king looked all around in confusion. Even after all he’d seen in the dungeon, his innocence precluded a complete understanding of its appeal. What he required was some practical training.
‘Mistress Mei is an expert with that silk cord,’ Faithful John chimed in from his seat in the corner. ‘What have you got planned for the new king?’
With his hands above his head, his regal jacket rode up almost to his nipples. Tearing his trousers down to his knees, she revealed a fully erect cock eager for human contact. Mei inched forward until the silk of her skirt nearly brushed his drooling cockhead. ‘Back up,’ she instructed. He moved cautiously back until his heel met the wooden ladder. ‘Step up one rung, then another, and stand very still.’
Again he followed instructions, despite the trepidation of climbing backwards up a ladder with his hands tied above his head. Once in position, Mistress Mei began the wild bondage. She circled the soft silk rope around his middle, securing it with knots along the way.
‘The knots are pressing into your pleasure centres,’ she informed him. ‘As they push into you, your brain releases waves of bliss throughout your body.’
‘Mistress Mei could tie you up, leave you to your own devices, and you could bring yourself to orgasm simply by breathing,’ Faithful John went on. The Mistress reached up to wrap her black rope around the king’s extended arms.
‘Yes, I feel it,’ King Edward sighed as a soft breeze like the breath of angels travelled his body. His core felt warm and glowing, easing the grief in his heart and slowing his mental faculties. ‘I’ve never been so calm in all my life.’
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