The Walls Have Eyes Ch. 1

I sit with my back to the hearth. The fire warms my poor cold body and throws dancing shadows across the middle of the Great Hall. My own shadow stretches long and wavering to the high table where my father takes his meals. The hall is empty now; save me. I quietly contemplate the nearing of Mid-Winter; a silent dread fills me. For on that day; the daughter's of the Realm will parade before my father and King for his selection for my bride. Lost in thought I nearly miss my sister's entrance. Sly on bare feet she appears out of the shadows wearing only her nightgown. The fire paints her striking features with crimsons and yellows. Her long flaxen hair frames her heart-shaped face; her almond eyes kindled with living light from the hearth. Long in limb but with a petite frame she dances forward to stand over me a gentle smile marking her mischievous intentions.

"You are up late brother." Her silken voice breaks the silence my hate for her rose suddenly hot and fierce.

"And where are you up to Amber?" The poison in my voice is clearly evident.

"Elsewhere." She was playing with the male help again. God help her if her maidenhead is gone before her own impending wedding to the French duke. I nodded in reply and with that she turned left the great hall. I count to five and quietly follow. Why? I could not say. Down the ancient halls of keep on silent feet we both transverse until she reaches her goal and enters a room I am quite familiar with. The weaponmaster's sleeping quarters are far off the beaten track of the keep, how curious. I could no longer keep the smile from my lips; the little bitch was mine at last! Moving to the corner sconce I turn it and watch as the secret door opens. I slip inside and move down the angled passageway to the observation post looking in on Morgan's bedroom. I hear the quiet grinding as the secret door closes behind me; I settle into place and lift the leather flap and look in the weaponmaster's bedroom.

I held my shock at bay for here is my elder sister standing naked before the weaponmaster and one of his squires. Her firm young breasts with rosy aeroles and nipples are standing at attention. They are more than a handful and quite striking from her petite frame and slender limbs. 'Not bad sis.' I thought to myself as I survey the situation. The squire at this moment begins to undress a look of serious concentration on his young face. My puzzlement grows as the situation continues. I feel like a spider on the wall looking down on the room from my vantage-point.

"How long until I am ready for my Duke?" My sister asks the weaponmaster.

"Very soon, we will show those frogs what we are capable of. You will rule him from the bedroom. A puppet duke for your father to dictate to." Morgan's voice holding a fanatical tone I did not like.

"Remember there is no emotion is these acts, you may or may not enjoy these techniques; just as a soldier may or may not love the art of war. It is the same."

My sister nods in understanding as the squire, his sword ready for battle, moves behind her and cups her breasts. His thumbs and forefingers teasing her already hard nipples; she leans against him as his weapon glides between her cheeks and teases her sex from behind and below. Amber's eyes flutter closed and her breathing deepens as she appears to be enjoying herself. Morgan watches both of his pupils as they fence with their weapons of choice; the squire his trusty sword and my sister, her voice and body posture. I realize that her little noises and the way she rubs herself against him, they are indeed dueling. The weaponmaster observes every subtle nuance unaffected by the 'love play' going on before him. If a limb bends in the wrong fashion he gently touches the offending part and it quickly assumes its proper angle or position. I watch on as my sister's spine seems to liquefy as she rolls her backside against the young squire allowing his weapon to rub up and down her damp sex. The squire grits his teeth as he fights the urge to concede the battle by reaching orgasm first. I admire his stamina against the whore-beast my sister.

With some unseen signal Amber spins and drops to her knees in one fluid motion. Without seeming to pause she takes his weapon into her mouth and begins to lick and suck on it. I have never seen such an act; the look on the squire's face was one of rapture. A new idea begins to form in the black pit I call a soul. The weaponmaster nods his approval and continues to watch. The squire's weapon moves in and out of her mouth; gliding down the moist cavern of her throat. Another unspoken signal and my sister rises to her feet and bends over grabbing her ankles and spreads her legs for her training partner. Taking sword in hand he slowly thrusts into her nether region; her maidenhead intact as her backside suffers the assault. He steadies himself and her with a hand on Amber's hip as the length of his weapon disappears inside of my sister. Her face takes on that angelic mask of sheer pleasure as her body is violated. Morgan steps up to Amber and dropping his trousers offers his own weapon for her mouth to feast on. I am sure my smile is radiant in the darkness of the secret passage; the weaponmaster engaging the princess in a sex act. They both now belong to me; I adjust the plan as the climax nears. I could burst in and spoil everyone's fun but no let them think they are safe, for now. The monster weapon of Morgan's barely fits down my sister's throat but like a good soldier she does not complain and simply continues. The squire is sliding in and out with long strong strokes of hip and leg. His moderate length of weapon seems appropriate for the task at hand. Amber's cheeks begin to flex as she forces the squire to completion. His low grunting grows louder and he bites a lip to silence himself. His face begins to redden as he fights harder and harder to stop his impending climax but it does no good. A long moment later he drives deep into my sister and blood trickles down his chin as he bites back his cry of release.

Morgan nods his approval and the squire, once he recovers, removes his weapon and cleans it like a good soldier. Amber's attention now focuses on the task at hand and her hand snakes up and strokes the weaponmaster's monster as tongue, teeth and hand team up to bring him to fruition. Raking his weapon with her teeth my sister tries to overstimulate him and end this battle here and now. Now her hand pumps up and down the length its color darkening as he indeed nears his climax. Like the squire before long flowing strokes drive the weaponmaster's sword in and out of my sisters mouth and throat. Without a sound my sister latches onto the blade spearing it as it spews down her throat she swallows hard and fast; the battle is over at long last!

The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, the sun shining off the new fallen snow. The air is crisp, Morgan and I facing each other across the length of practice blades. Looking into his deep blue eyes for any sign of intent I await the weaponmaster's attack. It is not long; with a quick beat he tries to knock my blade aside and thrust past my guard. I push along his own blade's length and catch his sword on my weapon's guard and bring my parrying dagger into play. His eye's betray surprise as the weapon comes down and scores a hit with its wooden point high on his weapon arm. He drops his sword to the cold earth and smiles in salute.

"Well done young prince I never saw the blade concealed behind your back." He beamed at me as he bent over to retrieve his weapon from the ground. My own sword point touching his throat halting his downward progress. A dangerous glint came into his eyes. "My prince?"

"I have a question to ask Weaponmaster Morgan." I lean close to whisper in his ear. "I witnessed my sister's training last evening." All the color drains from his face. "Have you trained others as you have my sister?" My question takes him by surprise a long moment later he nods. "Good, send one to my room this evening and we will all be happy." I step back and let him continue to collect his lost item in a black mood no doubt. I quit the field before any other words are exchanged. Always leave your enemy unbalanced. The rest of the day seems to crawl on by, but the short winter days play into my favor. I hardly partake of dinner and my father remarks on this.

"Something amiss?" My father King is always inquiring to our moods. He fears me and rightly so, better a happy child than an angry murderous one. My father is a wise man.

"No father, just a little fatigued from weapon practice today." Morgan who also sits at my father's table shows no signs of reacting.

"Has Morgan been over strenuous on you?" My father asks looking at the weaponmaster.

"Nay sire, I am equally hard on all of my students, as well you know."

"A just and fair man is Morgan," my father says as he turns back to me. "You are becoming a formidable swordsman I hear."

"Indeed father, all of Master Morgan's students are well trained." I let it drop at that. I eat my meal in silence; I will need my strength for the evening to come. I lick the plate clean and ask my father for his permission to leave. He nods and as I leave my hand brushes Morgan's shoulder I nod to him as I depart the Great Hall.

It is well into the third hour after sunset when a subtle knock comes to my chamber door. I rise, cross the floor and open the door and admit my guest. She wears hood and cloak, how absolutely mysterious! I close the door as the hood moves from side to side; she has obviously never seen a single room so large outside the great hall.

"It is much larger than I anticipated milord." Her voice is quiet and carries the brogue of the green isle.

"Morgan sends me an Irish wench?" Her head spins and hair like autumn fire slips free of the hood.

"Wench?! Milord is cruel as he is handsome." Her anger is intoxicating and the flash of green eyes makes her all the more attractive. I contain my laughter and approach this barbarian. I dip my head and look up into the hood and catch my breath for she is truly stunning in her beauty. A mask only the goddess could wear and then failing perhaps. Speechless I stand up and in reaching for the hood to get a better look she steps back and lowers it herself. As the light reaches her features I stand transfixed by her comely seeming. She could have slain me there and then but simply waits for me to do or say something. I turn away from her and pour her a glass of spiced cider.

"Here lovely one." I will my hand not to tremble as I turn and hand her the vessel. She has removed her cloak and my gaze drops to her girl like figure. She stands no taller than five feet and her faerie-like limbs are white and flawless. She bears no mark of disease or mar of any sort. Her white bodice is of doe skin sleeveless and holding up dainty breasts no larger than my sisters. In this they share a common thing, a petite figure and ample bosom. Chosen no doubt for her semblance to my sister; clever weaponmaster. Her ivory leggings matching the bodice in cut and design enhance her muscular legs as she steps forward to accept the drink.

"My Lord is gracious in his hospitality." The brogue was starting to seduce my ears. Truly she is the student of Morgan, advanced in the ways of seduction. I move to my bed and sit I point to a nearby chair. Without a further word she sits and sips her drink. Gracefully she brings the vessel to her lips and drinks her eyes never leaving mine. All the warning signs were there and I was quick to heed them. I was way out of my skill level and knew not how to keep my head and yet enjoy this woman's company. If I order her to leave, Morgan wins by default, even if he dies for his trysts with my sister. If this woman stays then surely I will die in her arms, sooner or later. What to do? She rises suddenly and moves to the table and refills her cup and carrying the pitcher offers me more.

"Milord has not touched his cup. Is something amiss?" She pauses and her eyes are there when I look up. "I was sent for a purpose, perhaps we should progress in that direction?" With that she sits in my lap and lets me sip from her cup. Her bottom is warm and causes my weapon to stir in its sheath. As she shifts from side to side, her backside rubs and grinds against me, stimulating me further. She smiles as she feels my sword poke upward. "Milord is happy?" I can only nod and try to think straight, difficult with her stimulation's. Her breath brushes up against my ear and my sword leaps upward. She giggles in response, wicked woman; and her hand moves between her legs to my crotch below. I feel her fingers stroking me with the cloth barrier between us; my only armor but it ineffective against this sort of attack. Her fingers trace the outline of my sword she gasps at its length and a hungry look replaces the amused one now. "You sir are enormous! Morgan told me not that this was the case. More the pleasure for us both." At the mention of the weaponmaster's name a plan formed, it was simple and elegant.

"Then my dear lady, you had best be at it then." My voice was strong and confident; victory seemed assured. Her smile dazzling as she rose to remove her clothing, one piece at a time. Deft fingers roam over her bodice and with a tug and a wiggle she was topless. She covers herself with mock shyness but soon the bodice falls to the floor. Her breasts are perfect, slightly larger than my sister's and topped with pale aeroles like snow capped mountains. Her nipples are stiff with desire and the cold. She moves to me and cupping a breast she teases the nipple to full erection.

"Do you like my breasts milord?" Her voice is husky now and my sword much easier to see through my leggings.

"Yes I can see that you do. Do you want to know what I taste like prince?"

I nodded and bent forward to take a nipple into my mouth. Her flesh smells of lavender and is pliant and tastes slightly salty. I take her nipple into my mouth and suckle it gently feeling it stiffen; I bite it lightly and hear her gasp in response.

"Harder lover, bite me harder!" I bite down till she hisses, "you will eat me alive m'love."

She sits back in my lap this time facing me and taking my hands and placing them on her breasts.

"I am thy love slave anything your lust demands I will perform." Her promise is as good as gold. I knead her young flesh and look into her girlish features guessing her age somewhere near my own eighteen summers. Yet as she tosses her head I see the woman she will become. I feel a chill as lust and something else strive for my attention. I throw her on the bed and feel lust rule this evening. Her leggings disappear in rolling limbs and grasping hands. Mouths seeking purchase in flesh and the sounds of her moaning set my desire to burn the fiercer. Suddenly I feel her lips around my weapon and the sound of wet lust; somewhere in the tumble of bodies my clothing seems to have misplaced itself. Never before have I felt such a sensation as her warm wet lips. I was speechless until her teeth gently rake me and a low moan built into a near ear splitting howl. The sound cut off as a pillow finds its way into my mouth.

"You will wake the whole keep ya young fool!" Her chastisement is amusing but wise, the guards alerted and the love-play well known would be a black mark on my flawless character.

"You act as if you never felt a woman's kiss there before..." Her pause only the briefest of moments, "you haven't, have you?" Her eagerness is triple as her mouth and tongue and hand and teeth all orchestrate to drive me over the edge. I feel something bigger than myself trying to escape and realize I am about to climax. I bite the pillow and scream into it as my seed gushes forth and she swallows like water to a dying man. I am prone on the bed gasping for breath; I feel as if I have just run round the whole county. The feeling after is like no other. As I lie there, she straddles my face and places her sex there near my mouth. I look up bewildered.

"My turn silly do as I say and any woman in the kingdom will be yours with no other urging than this." My curiosity peaks and so I follow her commands. With hand and tongue, fingers and eagerness to please she is soon biting the pillow herself. Her sex is bare like a new born and smells of lavender here as well; she must bathe in the stuff. The taste of her is like nothing else. Words fail to describe it; it is not unpleasant only different. My tongue runs along her lips tracing them as my fingers tease a tiny nub of flesh at the top of her sex and this is the key to her pleasure it seems. Not too hard and slower is always better; her hips are driving into my face; I fear a broken nose if she rears too hard. Her grunting is enticing and drives me to make her moan drop lower and lower. Suddenly her hips are quivering and she nearly suffocates on the pillow as she muffles her screams. My face is wet with her, I like it. Panting as I was she looks down at me her eyes are fierce and filled with a deeper longing.

"You are a quick learner your grace. Perhaps we should move on to more advanced techniques? Are you game?" With an equally wicked smile I nod and my eagerness shows between my legs.

"Stand." Like a puppet I jump to my feet and stand at attention. My weapon is ready and eager for battle. "I will do all the work. The fun is seeing how long you can keep your hands at your side. You will not move your hips understand?" I nod and intend not to move; I said intend.

She kneels before me and again takes me into her mouth soon my pubic hair in near her nose. My entire length is wet with her saliva and I have to hold back from pumping my hips. After a short while she rises and turns her back to me. She bends her lovely ass over and scoots backward until her sex is lining up with mine. Taking me in hand she places the tip of my weapon in the opening of her fleshy sheath. It took all my self control not to shove it to the hilt. She rocks back and forth teasing the tip and with delicious slowness eases herself back towards me. Inch by painful inch she nears me. Clinching my teeth against the desire I wait and wait until half my length is inside her and then she moves away. Forward and back she moves against me; but only half of me enters her. The urge builds and builds I squeeze my eyes shut and push forward impaling her. I hear her gasp as her tender flesh envelops me in silken warmth. I pull back slowly and begin a gentle rhythmic motion moving in and out of her. Her flesh is paradise to me and only now do I understand my sisters exctasy. The feeling from her lips is nothing to this, the pressure is bigger than both are bodies combined as my orgasm rips through me and spills into her. Blood pours down my chest from my bitten lip as the wave of pleasure flows through me. I come to on the floor with her head on my chest.

"Too much for you huh." My only answer is to gently stroke her hair. The weaponmaster is a fine trainer and beholden to me now. His life is in my hands and I will savor all his little trained sluts.

"Be here tomorrow night." I say as I rise to my feet. A look of bewilderment but no argument passes her lips.

"Yes milord." She responds as she rises and dresses.

"And bring a friend." I add casually. She nods as she leaves my bedchamber. I look forward to the next night, indeed I do!