The Curse of Camelot Page 2

  A while later, he raised his head, panting through lack of air, and met her gaze. His blue eyes had brightened and were alive with flashes of different shades. He wore a mark of her power—a smear of her honey that glistened on the shadow of his beard. It was beautiful to see her stamp upon him.

  He needs me. He needs me to enable him to conduct his duties as a knight. How the tables had changed from those days when she had anxiously awaited his arrival, so they could steal precious seconds together away from Arthur’s suspicious eyes. Now she was the one in control.

  She knew he was ready to take her, but she tested him regardless, offering him her other nipple from which to drink. He shook his head and swiped an arm across his chin, wiping the smear of honey up his cheek.

  “No, My Queen. I have had my fill of your honey. It is your milk I now crave.”

  “Very well, Sir Lancelot.” She raised herself to stand and faced him. He dutifully unfastened the ribbon that held her robe in place, and the garment fell to the floor, exposing her completely. Her sense of empowerment grew with every inch his gaze lowered. His eyes came to rest on her fair-haired mound, under which she knew the sensitive lips of her core glistened fat and firm from arousal. His breaths shallowed, and his eyes darkened.

  He wants me so much. Her hand reached automatically for her pendant, and she smiled.

  “My Queen, pray allow that I feast on the milk from your precious body and draw the courage I need for my quest from your womanly core?”

  She answered his plea by pushing his shoulders so that he fell backward onto the bed. As soon as he lay down, she mounted the bed, her legs on either side of him, and crawled up his body until she straddled his face.

  He reached up for her hips, bringing her down onto him so her pussy sat aloft his mouth. His open lips covered her clit, forming a seal over the blood-filled nub, while the stubble on his chin scratched at her wet cunt. Inside the seal his mouth formed, his tongue worked on her, flicking, rolling, and lapping at her every crease and fold.

  She screamed out her pleasure. Not like in those days when their union had to remain a secret. Now, she was in charge, and she enjoyed crying out as much as she wished in the writhes of sexual union. She wanted everyone in the castle and beyond to hear it, to know she had been pleasured as a woman of her caliber deserved to be.

  Her vocal appreciation had just the effect on Lancelot she wanted. His own moan came immediately in response, reverberating against her pussy. The extra movement brought her to orgasm. She pulled her clit away from Lancelot’s mouth and tipped her pelvis to line her cunt up with his mouth. She bent her head to witness the glorious sight of her milk stream into his mouth.

  Once the last drip had left her, she crawled off him, stood up, picked up her robe and wrapped it around her body. Lancelot remained on the bed like a man who had had his fill of ale, his head to one side, eyes closed.

  She smiled. The transfer of her power was entirely consuming while it crept into the recipient’s veins. “Allow yourself the time to adjust to your renewed strength, my knight, then I grant you leave. I will summon you again in a few days’ time, once you have returned victorious from your quest.”

  He opened his eyes to slits and murmured a response.

  Guinevere turned her back to him and walked over to her dressing table. She perched on the stool, faced the looking glass and ran a comb through her sex-tangled hair. The reflection of the pendant gleamed, bathing her face in an angelic glow.

  Chapter Two

  “I see Lancelot has performed his duties.” Fleur turned from the window and addressed her husband. Parceval sat at the table wearing only his undertunic and tore the last strip of meat from a pig’s thigh with his teeth. He looked up at her and swiped a fist across his face to wipe away the meat’s juices.

  She smiled at him through her sadness. He was so big, so strong, so handsome. She felt a sudden urge to run over to him and push his plate away so she could mount the table and open her legs wide for him. The thought only pained her more. She quickly pushed it aside and turned back to watch a newly strong and rejuvenated Lancelot stride from the castle.

  “That witch, who calls herself our queen, should fear death, for she will surely be sent to purgatory for what she has done to Camelot, to our beloved King Arthur.”

  “Hush now.” In just a few of his long strides, Parceval was right by her, embracing her from behind. He placed a chaste kiss on the nape of her neck. “Say what you want in front of me but be sure to keep silent elsewhere in the court. If anyone hears you speak that way of our queen, you’ll be hanged for treason.”

  She spun around and clutched Parceval’s upper arms. His biceps, larger than they had been several days before, flexed instinctively under her touch. Pure red anger bit at her. She knew all too well the cause of his hardened muscles and closed her eyes to shut off the image forming in her mind.

  “Guinevere is evil!” she repeated. “I don’t care who hears me say it.”

  “I care. I have no desire to be widowed.”

  “We cannot simply do nothing.” She tore herself from him and paced to the other side of the room. “What are we, the women of Camelot, meant to do? Sit back while she claims our menfolk and allow the nobility birthrate of Camelot to grind to a halt? Galahad is the only noble child to be born here in the three years since Guinevere ordered Arthur’s murder.”

  Parceval closed the gap between them and stroked her hair. “We must wait, my love, until God presents a way of delivering us from this most difficult of situations. We must put our trust in Him and remain patient. He will deliver us in the end.”

  “Oh, stop that nonsense.” She batted his hand away. “We’ve done nothing but be patient for the past three years, and where has it got us? As if killing our king weren’t enough, she forbids the men of Camelot from making love to their wives, because greedy Guinevere wants to possess you all. She’s a bitter old hag, still reeling from what happened with her and Lancelot. And now she punishes all of the court because she was not granted what her cold heart desired.”

  Parceval picked up her hand and placed it flat against his chest. “While Guinevere is my queen it is my duty as a Knight of The Round Table to serve her in whatever way she demands. While my body may belong to her, I assure you, my love, that my heart belongs to you. The power of her pendant may be able to control my limbs and virility, but it has no hold over my emotions.”

  Fleur’s heart fluttered for a moment until she reminded herself that his words, however genuine, could not convert to actions. Her shoulders sagged. “I know, sweet husband of mine, I know. But in the meantime I still have my virginity. Who’d have thought it? Married almost three years and yet my flower remains intact.”

  “Fleur, my love, let me take you to bed and consummate our marriage at last. I’ll do it right now if you’ll only permit me. I want nothing more than to deflower you, to show how much I love you. The consequences can be what they may. I will cope with prolonged weakness and whatever torture and punishment Guinevere has in store for me if it means claiming your virginity and proving my love to you.”

  He placed his hands on the sides of her breasts. Although encased in the thick fabric of her corset, she could still feel his heat and pressure. She closed her eyes to savor the sensation, a sign Parceval took as approval to continue. His hands left her bosom and gathered up the heavy material of her skirt and underlying chemise. A rush of cold air swept between her legs as he pulled up the final scrap of fabric to expose her uncovered sex.

  “No undergarments today?” His tone suggested surprise, and she wasn’t certain whether his reaction was one of disapproval or excitement. Beneath his undertunic, his cock was hard and aloft. Ah, that’ll be the latter then. She smiled. Instinctively, she raised her hand to grasp his cock, but he stopped her before she reached it by clasping a firm hand around her wrist.

  “No. I’ve heard that if women dare touch their husbands intimately, welts appear all over their faces. Your crime will be
clear for Guinevere and the whole of Camelot to see. I can cope with what may come of me, but I will not have her hurt you, my love. Let me do this instead.

  At his warning, she let her arm fall to her side. He quickly flicked a finger over her cunt, then bared his teeth and drew in a sharp breath in a beautiful display of male sexuality. She moaned out her longing. More, she wanted to beg. More, Parceval. But she used every iota of self-restraint to hold her voice. For if she asked him for more, he’d gladly give it to her and deal with the consequences like the brave warrior he was. As much as she wanted to feel him inside her for the first time, she loved him so much she could not do that to him.

  “You touched me down there,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “What now? Will you weaken? Will she know?”

  “No.” His jaw was tightly clenched. He was seriously considering giving in, despite what may lie ahead if he did. “I know that one of the other knights, in a moment of weakness, touched his wife’s cunt, just momentarily, and although his physical strength was compromised the next day, it was not enough for Guinevere to notice. If I refrain from touching you again, and she does not summon me tomorrow, she should never know.”

  “What if she does summon you?”

  “Then it was worth it, just to feel the womanly flesh of your soft cunt beneath my fingers for the first time.”

  She swallowed and nodded, then looked down. He still clutched the fabric of her skirt and held it gathered at her navel. Her pussy was still exposed. His cock was still hard and protruded toward her.

  “What now?” she said.

  “My greatest desire is to enter you. Say I can, and I will with the deepest pleasure.”

  Dear Parceval. How he loves me that he is prepared to receive the order of certain death just to prove it.

  She managed a faint smile and shook her head. “You are right, Parceval, my love. We must wait until the time is right.”

  He dropped his gaze and nodded. How she hated disappointing him, but the alternative was unthinkable.

  “However, you…” She gestured toward his sex-ready cock.

  “I know what to do about that,” he said with a sexy half-smile. He raised a finger to his lips. It was coated in a transparent sheen, and she realized it was the same finger that moments ago had been at her sex. He looked at her before licking the finger that bore the wetness from her cunt.

  The thought that her milk was now inside him burned at her womb. She placed her hand between her legs. Hot, wet juice transferred to her fingertips. She raised her hand to her lips and placed the fingers in her mouth, so their tongues pleasured simultaneously in the same taste. It was sweet and bitter all at once. He visibly trembled. It’s not fair. He wants me so much his body shakes with desire, but he is not permitted to possess me.

  “Please,” he murmured. “Please, Fleur. Don’t touch yourself again. It drives me insane with want for you. And I know not the side-effects of Camelot’s womenfolk stimulating themselves. I can’t have you risk it. There could be retributions to such actions.”

  Her clit throbbed with objection at his words. Images and memories ran through her head, and a wave of guilt washed over her. There weren’t retributions for the womenfolk of Camelot stimulating themselves—or each other—but of course, she could not declare such truths to Parceval. Would he see it as infidelity?

  She had, however, never stimulated herself in front of him, so she could not say the action would certainly be without consequence. Despite her body’s insistence to be touched, she used every shred of discipline she possessed to abstain.

  “Fine,” she said. “Then at least allow me to watch you pleasure yourself. We know she doesn’t object to the menfolk of Camelot stimulating themselves. In fact, I understand that she actively encourages you knights to practice hardening your cocks regularly, so that your seed flows fully and freely into her.”

  “It would be selfish of me, my love, to satisfy myself when you are not permitted to seek your own fulfilment.”

  She looked at him through watery eyes. Sweet, gentle Parceval. Always thinking of me. “I want you to do it. I want to watch as you grasp your shaft and massage yourself until orgasm overtakes you. I want you to do that while I’m right here, watching, so I know that I’m the only woman you’re thinking of while summoning your seed.”

  “Very well. Take this.” He handed her the fabric of her skirt, which he still held aloft, and she accepted it from him. “Keep it held high,” he ordered. “I want to make sure I have the beautiful view of your sweet, innocent cunt when I pleasure myself.”

  She did as he commanded and grasped the full skirt of her dress as high as she could. A surge of sexual excitement raced through her at the anticipation of watching him pump his blood-enlarged cock within her view.

  Why have we never attempted this before?

  It had seemed too dangerous. That was why. Parceval made no secret that he needed to regularly pleasure himself at the queen’s command, but out of respect for Fleur, he normally sought privacy in which to do so. It had never occurred to her that watching could be so thrilling.

  “Wait,” she said as an idea struck. If she did end up with a telltale sign of her voyeurism—welts, warts, or whatever else Guinevere’s evil pendant conjured—she’d at least make sure the crime was worth the punishment.

  She walked over to the long wooden bench in the kitchen on which Parceval had sat to eat his lunch and lay back on it. He followed silently, his eyebrows raised in question. He stood before her and watched as she pulled her heavy skirt back up to her waist and opened her legs to give him an unobstructed view of her wide open cunt.

  “By God’s bones,” he whispered. “How I wish I could fuck that beautiful young pussy of yours, Fleur.”

  “Show me what your cock would do if it were inside my virgin body, and the pleasure of seeing your seed spill as you think of being inside me will be my fulfilment.”

  Without hesitation, he wrapped his big hand around his thick shaft and began to stroke with long, slow movements. Not once did he take his eyes away from her pussy. The urge to reach down and rub the area that mesmerized him was so overwhelming she had to bite down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself. His strokes grew faster, and the groans that escaped his throat deepened. Mirroring his pace, she began to rock her pelvis backward and forward, imagining his solid cock grinding inside her.

  “Show me how your seed flows, Parceval,” she cried out. “Show me soon, or I will have no choice but to touch myself.”

  His movements became so quick, his hand seemed to blur before her eyes. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped and held his cock still. He let out a deep groan, and for a moment, nothing happened. Is that it? Is the seed of a man invisible?

  Then a white liquid spurted from the tip of his cock, spilling over his hand onto the stone floor below.

  So quickly he wouldn’t be able to stop her if he wanted to, she swiped some of the cum from his palm.

  “Fleur, what are you—”

  Before he had time to react, she smeared his cum over her pussy. The momentary relief of stimulating her nub sent a frisson of excitement across the whole of her lower body. “Now we’re connected. You and me are intertwined. Like a proper husband and wife.”

  “No, Fleur, you shouldn’t have done that. What if you receive a child?”

  She swung her legs to one side of the bench, stood up, and released her dress so the hem fell down to her ankles. “I doubt that very much. Your body hasn’t even entered mine.”

  “But my seed and your milk combined together is all it takes. In Christ’s name, Fleur!” He strode over to where his undertunic lay crumpled on the floor, snatched it up, and pulled it over his head, shielding his nakedness.

  She followed him and placed a hand on his upper arm. “Relax, my love. I’d know if I’d conceived. Women are attuned to these matters.”

  He obviously believed her reassurance, for his face softened. “I’m sorry, my love. I’m just frustrated I cannot fuck my wife.
You have the most delicious-looking cunt, and I want so badly to be inside it. Did you see how much seed I spilled just because your legs were splayed before me?”

  She nodded. “It was a glorious sight.”

  Her sentiment was genuine, but she couldn’t ignore the relentless throb at her sex that begged for relief. She’d told Parceval watching him spill his seed would be enough to sate her, and she’d hoped it would, but in all truth, she hadn’t expected that to be the case, and she had been right. Her pussy still craved attention—even more now than when Parceval first brandished his hardened phallus.

  As if reading her mind, he spoke. “But you, my beloved wife, you remain unsatisfied.” He pulled her into a strong embrace.

  “I can barely wait for the day we can be fully united in our love, Parceval. Somehow, Guinevere will receive her comeuppance and the people of Camelot will be free to love again how they choose. Only then will I allow you, my brave, honest husband, to take me to bed. And that will be the sweetest revenge of all.”

  “It pains me more than I can say that I can do nothing to relieve your urges.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “Watching you is all I need for now,” she lied.

  She shifted in an attempt to ease the burn of her pussy, but all it achieved was to create more friction at her core, as the bulging folds surrounding her clit rubbed against her clothing. No matter. She knew what she had to do to seek satisfaction.

  She wriggled free from his arms and headed for the door, stopping only to retrieve her shawl from its hook.

  “Where are you going?” he called after her.

  “To visit my friends. Elaine will no doubt see the effect Guinevere has had on her Lancelot and need female consolation. Farewell, my love. I’ll return in time to prepare supper.”

  She closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Three

  The heavy bang on the door made Ragnell look up from her tapestry. She placed her needle on the table and went to permit her guest entrance. “Whatever’s the matter, Fleur?”