Arthur’s blue eyes opened, finally coming to full consciousness. Above him, the night sky stretched out, the stars shining bright and clear. He tried to sit up and realized he was bound to something made of stone, and naked as the day he was born. He could feel soft fur folded beneath his head. There was something leather across his throat, and metal at wrists and ankle holding his limbs up and out. He looked around as best he could – besides whatever he was attached to, there were four braziers in the clearing, each filled with a roaring fire.
Beyond the ring of light, he could see only blackness. He could hear water rushing somewhere in the distance. Out of the darkness beyond the flame, he could see a figure approaching. It was a woman walking towards him, smiling seductively, carrying a simple clay chalice in her right hand. There was a mask made of black feathers across the top of her face, covering the top of her head, vaguely in the shape of a raven. Dark hair hung down beneath it.
Surely this must be another odd dream - ravens and crows had been haunting his sleep these past few weeks.
“The brave knight is awake.” Her voice seemed familiar somehow, but he could not place it. His head still seemed fuzzy.
“Am I dreaming?” For surely this could not truly be happening.
“No – you dream no longer. This is real.” She took a sip from the cup. He had to look up at her from where he lay. He licked his lips, his throat dry. “Are you thirsty?” She held the cup to his lips. He could smell the sweet wine within it. He nodded, and she let him drink. The cool liquid felt wonderful across his tongue.
Arthur remembered being on his horse, and becoming lost in a growing fog. “Where is my horse, my sword and armor?”
“Unharmed. If you behave, all will be returned to you after the dawn comes.” The tone of her voice was soothing, one you might use on a feral creature.
“And tonight?” As if he could not guess, given his current state.
“I have need of you.” Her gaze fell to his groin.
This woman was not his wife; he did not even know her name. “Witch. Release me.”
“Oh, I’ll give you release.” She smirked beneath the mask. She took another sip and set the cup down.
Arthur struggled, the chains binding his wrists clanking against the stone. Her long white fingers pulled at the sash of her red robe, where it was bound beneath her breasts. Beneath the robe, she was naked and quite beautiful. Despite himself, Arthur felt desire rise in him at the sight of her lush curves. There was an intricate symbol painted low on her belly, dark against her white skin.
She reached out her right hand and traced the large blue vein running down his cock with her fingertips. Arthur twitched and fought down a groan. The palm of her left hand was covered in the same dark substance that decorated her abdomen. She reached for his scrotum, and wiped her hand across it, smearing the tincture across his skin.
He shifted, trying to movie out her grasp. “What are you doing?”
“A little assistance, for the both of us.” Almost immediately, he felt blood pooling in his groin, though if it were caused by the warmth of her hand or a side effect of the mixture sinking into his skin, he could not say.
“May I not even know your name?” He searched for something to distract her.
“You may call me Corvus, if you will.” Then she leaned over, shifted her mask aside and took him into her mouth. His head fell back, his eyes fluttered closed and he fought to keep his hips still. But she would not be denied, and he felt the back of her throat against his flesh. The feathers ticked against his abdomen. It had been so long since he had felt the touch of a woman, he began to thrust. After a few moments, she chuckled, and the sound seemed to shudder against his skin. He felt her hand tighten around him as her mouth drew away, adjusting her mask back into place. “Not yet, good sir.”
She threw a leg over his hips, lined herself up, and sank down onto his sex. She made a humming noise as she pulled back up. One shallow thrust and then she settled down, taking him into her completely. She was so tight around him. By all that is holy, nothing should feel this good. Nothing had ever felt this good, as a matter of fact. Leaning forward, she gave him a chaste kiss, first upon his forehead, and then across his lips. And then she began to move.
Time seemed to stretch and bend as she rode him faster and faster.
It might have been moments, it might have been hours, but she brought him to the edge of his pleasure and over. Not once but twice. He had nothing to hold on to, except the chains binding him to the cold stone.
After his second release, the stars above his head grew large, and the world dissolved into white light.