The Great Sword

965 A.D. -- Somewhere in Wessex

Translated from Old English into the Vernacular

The Great Lord drew his sword and drove it quivering into the earth. Even partially sunken into the soil of the forest clearing, the knob of the sword's handle, which appeared to be pure silver, rose nearly to my armpit. I'd never seen anything like it. It was a weapon only the richest of men, one of the Lords of the Realm, could possess and wield.

Reaching inside his outer garment, the Lord produced something the color of a cloudless summer sky. He tossed it to me. It was light as air. It fluttered like a summer butterfly. I marveled at it. I'd never felt anything like it.

"What is this?" I asked in amazement.

"It's silk. Imported from the land of the Romans." The Lord sneered: "Once they ruled the earth; now they make women's undergarments."

"Is that what it is?"

"Undress and put it on. It looks to be about your [slender] size."

Having shaken the exotic cloth open, I now realized it possessed two legholes and a waistband. "Whose are they?" I asked.

"They belong to a very important Lady of the Realm. Very important and also very devious. But the less you know about where they come from, the better for you. Strip and put them on," he again commanded.

We had ridden our horses (I always remaining at least a length behind my Lord) through the forest to the edge of this small, roughly circular clearing. This was a great adventure for me. I'd never been more than a hundred yards outside the fields of the village where I grew up, or a similar distance outside the walls of my Lord's great castle, where I now served at his leisure. As for riding a horse, I could barely keep in the saddle.

As I undressed in the chill air my Lord opened his breeches and proceeded to urinate, at intervals, around the perimeter of the clearing. Was this some sort of forest custom, I wondered?

"To keep the wolves at bay," my Lord explained, turning to face me. I was now naked, and his cock was still hanging out, and dripping. It was not an unusual sight, though normally, when he left it out like this, I was in the kneeling position. I'd held his cock countless times in my hand, and countless times in my mouth. And even, sometimes, in a place I dare not even mention. His wife Ecqwynn suspected these things of me, I believe, and detested me for it. Sometimes I feared for my life around her. What if my Great Lord and protector perished in battle? What would become of me?

"Why do you stand there like a girl?" he asked.

Now naked, and shivering in the clearing, my hands gripped my shoulders and my forearms crossed my chest. My bent knees pressed against each other. It was an effeminate pose, I'll grant him that.

"Put the panties on, knave!" he thundered.

I obeyed, quickly. The dirty soles of my feet embarrassed me. I was careful not to let them touch the panties' legholes as I stepped through them. As they rose up my thighs I realized I had never felt a fabric so exotic and sensual. Pulled up to my waist, they became a kind of second skin. But it was the skin of an angel. Surely they possessed magical properties! I'd heard of lamps in the land of the infidels that contained genies. If you rubbed them, legend said, the genie would appear and grant you three wishes. Now I could not help [caressing] myself in the ladies' panties. I grew inside them—as did my Lord's bare cock, as he advanced. I began to kneel. But he said, "No, remain standing."

He too caressed me in the panties, roughly. "Now you understand why I told you to take the razor to your privates?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Do they not feel better this way?"

"The garment feels magical, Sir."

"Well," giving my little shaved balls a final, pantied squeeze, "they've worked their magic on me. Turn around."

I obeyed, and now I faced the smooth but dappled bark of a great tree at clearing's edge. My Lord's body, still clothed aside from his midsection, pushed heavily against my frail frame, slamming me forward against the tree trunk. I turned my cheek. I held on.

"Bitch!" he declared, rubbing his hard cock against my silken ass. At first I thought he was referring to me, and I feared the worst. But he then shouted, practically in my left ear, "Frigid fucking bitch! Deny me your chamber? I am your Lord, bitch! Cunt! I'll show you! Who needs you when I have..."

My Lord let out a faint whimper. The ass of my panty was turning sticky wet. Some of my Lord's seed had shot a little ways up my spine, and now it dripped down to the seat of the panty, joining the rest.

I do not have much to compare it to. My own cock, of course, and the cocks of my father and brothers. But I would have to say that my Lord's cock is the smallest [of the group]. My own is certainly much longer, though not as thick. I would describe my Lord's manhood as stout, but short. Like his general frame. His balls are of an enormous size, however, and he cums a lot. Sometimes he will say things to me like, "I have a four-day load for you," and I know a deluge is coming, and I prepare for it. Now, in the forest clearing, and backing away from me, he said with a kind of disgust:

"Clean me up."

Knowing what this meant, I turned and knelt on the forest floor. The black earth and dead leaves that covered my feet bottoms would now cling to my knees as well. I took my Lord into my mouth.

The sweetness of his seed commingled with the [acrid] taste of his urine and his sweat from the ride out from the castle. I swallowed. I dared not spit the [melange] of flavors out, however much my disgust.

He pushed my head away and said, "Get dressed. Take the panties off first."

Finding a dry spot on them, at the slender front, I quickly tried to wipe my backside clean. Then I dressed, not bothering to wipe my feet and knees first. From all appearances my Lord was in a hurry. He pulled his sword from the ground and re-sheathed it. As he did so, and I finished dressing, I said a silent prayer. At least he had not swung the great iron pitted battle blade toward my neck.

I followed him from the clearing to our horses, and from there we rode to the bank of a narrow creek. There my Lord ordered me to dismount and wash the panty in the gentle cascade of water. The creek that ran through our village was brown with human waste, as was the creek that ran beside my Lord's castle, as well as its moat. This water was as pure as crystal. I marveled at it as I had the Lady's airy panty, earlier. The water was pure and sweet to the taste, not unlike my Lord's seed following a bath.

I rubbed the silk panty gently against a smooth stone in the cold water, as I'd watched my mother do so many times before in our village with our coarse peasant clothing. Bent over like this, I wished I was still naked, as I had been in the forest. I wished my Lord could see my dark hole, enlarged from all our encounters, between my pale buttocks. I fantasized that he would dismount, get hard again and penetrate me on the creek bank, as he had done so many times before in his chamber. Had he brought his tin of goose fat?

"Hurry up!" my Lord said from his majestic, armored horse.

I wrung the panty out and handed it to him, and he hung it through a leghole from the horn of his French saddle.

"It should be dry by the time we get back," he said. I doubted it. Rainclouds were sweeping in from the southwest, and that was the direction we were heading.

When we reached the castle I, a good two lengths behind my Lord and Master and soaking wet, was greeted by a grinning gatekeeper who, letting go the rope, lifted his chin, loosely gripped his left wrist in his right fist, and made a pumping motion. I forced a return, gay smile. I was outed. But did the foolish knave know, with one word from me, my Lord would have had him struck dead with spear or sword? He appeared to be left-handed, afterall. And all left-handed men are known to be the devil's progeny.

That night, in my private quarter, which was little more than a closet, I reimagined the scene at the creek. As I knelt there my Lord got off his horse and came to me and penetrated me and shot his great load in me. I, in my panties the color of the sky, was my Lord's Lady that night. I accepted His seed. I cried out in delight. I, masturbating furiously on my bed of hay [the chronicle, written in crude Latin, ends here]

The anonymous author's forebodings about his Lord's wife Ecqwynn (or Ecqwyn) proved prophetic. In 967 or 968 (the exact date is vague), his Lord did indeed die in battle. Shortly thereafter the records show a young man of the castle in his early twenties was declared a pederast, and a devil before God's eyes, and sentenced to summary death. Before the hanging he was castrated and his testicles sewn inside his mouth. Then, before the noose could snuff out his life the young man was cut down and disemboweled, while still conscious. He was then beheaded and his body quartered. It is said that Ecqwynn ordered the body parts to be roasted on a spit and that she herself feasted on them that very night, though this tale is in all likelihood apocryphal. It was a brutal age, at any rate.965 A.D. -- Somewhere in Wessex

Translated from Old English into the Vernacular

The Great Lord drew his sword and drove it quivering into the earth. Even partially sunken into the soil of the forest clearing, the knob of the sword's handle, which appeared to be pure silver, rose nearly to my armpit. I'd never seen anything like it. It was a weapon only the richest of men, one of the Lords of the Realm, could possess and wield.

Reaching inside his outer garment, the Lord produced something the color of a cloudless summer sky. He tossed it to me. It was light as air. It fluttered like a summer butterfly. I marveled at it. I'd never felt anything like it.

"What is this?" I asked in amazement.

"It's silk. Imported from the land of the Romans." The Lord sneered: "Once they ruled the earth; now they make women's undergarments."

"Is that what it is?"

"Undress and put it on. It looks to be about your [slender] size."

Having shaken the exotic cloth open, I now realized it possessed two legholes and a waistband. "Whose are they?" I asked.

"They belong to a very important Lady of the Realm. Very important and also very devious. But the less you know about where they come from, the better for you. Strip and put them on," he again commanded.

We had ridden our horses (I always remaining at least a length behind my Lord) through the forest to the edge of this small, roughly circular clearing. This was a great adventure for me. I'd never been more than a hundred yards outside the fields of the village where I grew up, or a similar distance outside the walls of my Lord's great castle, where I now served at his leisure. As for riding a horse, I could barely keep in the saddle.

As I undressed in the chill air my Lord opened his breeches and proceeded to urinate, at intervals, around the perimeter of the clearing. Was this some sort of forest custom, I wondered?

"To keep the wolves at bay," my Lord explained, turning to face me. I was now naked, and his cock was still hanging out, and dripping. It was not an unusual sight, though normally, when he left it out like this, I was in the kneeling position. I'd held his cock countless times in my hand, and countless times in my mouth. And even, sometimes, in a place I dare not even mention. His wife Ecqwynn suspected these things of me, I believe, and detested me for it. Sometimes I feared for my life around her. What if my Great Lord and protector perished in battle? What would become of me?

"Why do you stand there like a girl?" he asked.

Now naked, and shivering in the clearing, my hands gripped my shoulders and my forearms crossed my chest. My bent knees pressed against each other. It was an effeminate pose, I'll grant him that.

"Put the panties on, knave!" he thundered.

I obeyed, quickly. The dirty soles of my feet embarrassed me. I was careful not to let them touch the panties' legholes as I stepped through them. As they rose up my thighs I realized I had never felt a fabric so exotic and sensual. Pulled up to my waist, they became a kind of second skin. But it was the skin of an angel. Surely they possessed magical properties! I'd heard of lamps in the land of the infidels that contained genies. If you rubbed them, legend said, the genie would appear and grant you three wishes. Now I could not help [caressing] myself in the ladies' panties. I grew inside them—as did my Lord's bare cock, as he advanced. I began to kneel. But he said, "No, remain standing."

He too caressed me in the panties, roughly. "Now you understand why I told you to take the razor to your privates?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Do they not feel better this way?"

"The garment feels magical, Sir."

"Well," giving my little shaved balls a final, pantied squeeze, "they've worked their magic on me. Turn around."

I obeyed, and now I faced the smooth but dappled bark of a great tree at clearing's edge. My Lord's body, still clothed aside from his midsection, pushed heavily against my frail frame, slamming me forward against the tree trunk. I turned my cheek. I held on.

"Bitch!" he declared, rubbing his hard cock against my silken ass. At first I thought he was referring to me, and I feared the worst. But he then shouted, practically in my left ear, "Frigid fucking bitch! Deny me your chamber? I am your Lord, bitch! Cunt! I'll show you! Who needs you when I have..."

My Lord let out a faint whimper. The ass of my panty was turning sticky wet. Some of my Lord's seed had shot a little ways up my spine, and now it dripped down to the seat of the panty, joining the rest.

I do not have much to compare it to. My own cock, of course, and the cocks of my father and brothers. But I would have to say that my Lord's cock is the smallest [of the group]. My own is certainly much longer, though not as thick. I would describe my Lord's manhood as stout, but short. Like his general frame. His balls are of an enormous size, however, and he cums a lot. Sometimes he will say things to me like, "I have a four-day load for you," and I know a deluge is coming, and I prepare for it. Now, in the forest clearing, and backing away from me, he said with a kind of disgust:

"Clean me up."

Knowing what this meant, I turned and knelt on the forest floor. The black earth and dead leaves that covered my feet bottoms would now cling to my knees as well. I took my Lord into my mouth.

The sweetness of his seed commingled with the [acrid] taste of his urine and his sweat from the ride out from the castle. I swallowed. I dared not spit the [melange] of flavors out, however much my disgust.

He pushed my head away and said, "Get dressed. Take the panties off first."

Finding a dry spot on them, at the slender front, I quickly tried to wipe my backside clean. Then I dressed, not bothering to wipe my feet and knees first. From all appearances my Lord was in a hurry. He pulled his sword from the ground and re-sheathed it. As he did so, and I finished dressing, I said a silent prayer. At least he had not swung the great iron pitted battle blade toward my neck.

I followed him from the clearing to our horses, and from there we rode to the bank of a narrow creek. There my Lord ordered me to dismount and wash the panty in the gentle cascade of water. The creek that ran through our village was brown with human waste, as was the creek that ran beside my Lord's castle, as well as its moat. This water was as pure as crystal. I marveled at it as I had the Lady's airy panty, earlier. The water was pure and sweet to the taste, not unlike my Lord's seed following a bath.

I rubbed the silk panty gently against a smooth stone in the cold water, as I'd watched my mother do so many times before in our village with our coarse peasant clothing. Bent over like this, I wished I was still naked, as I had been in the forest. I wished my Lord could see my dark hole, enlarged from all our encounters, between my pale buttocks. I fantasized that he would dismount, get hard again and penetrate me on the creek bank, as he had done so many times before in his chamber. Had he brought his tin of goose fat?

"Hurry up!" my Lord said from his majestic, armored horse.

I wrung the panty out and handed it to him, and he hung it through a leghole from the horn of his French saddle.

"It should be dry by the time we get back," he said. I doubted it. Rainclouds were sweeping in from the southwest, and that was the direction we were heading.

When we reached the castle I, a good two lengths behind my Lord and Master and soaking wet, was greeted by a grinning gatekeeper who, letting go the rope, lifted his chin, loosely gripped his left wrist in his right fist, and made a pumping motion. I forced a return, gay smile. I was outed. But did the foolish knave know, with one word from me, my Lord would have had him struck dead with spear or sword? He appeared to be left-handed, afterall. And all left-handed men are known to be the devil's progeny.

That night, in my private quarter, which was little more than a closet, I reimagined the scene at the creek. As I knelt there my Lord got off his horse and came to me and penetrated me and shot his great load in me. I, in my panties the color of the sky, was my Lord's Lady that night. I accepted His seed. I cried out in delight. I, masturbating furiously on my bed of hay [the chronicle, written in crude Latin, ends here]

The anonymous author's forebodings about his Lord's wife Ecqwynn (or Ecqwyn) proved prophetic. In 967 or 968 (the exact date is vague), his Lord did indeed die in battle. Shortly thereafter the records show a young man of the castle in his early twenties was declared a pederast, and a devil before God's eyes, and sentenced to summary death. Before the hanging he was castrated and his testicles sewn inside his mouth. Then, before the noose could snuff out his life the young man was cut down and disemboweled, while still conscious. He was then beheaded and his body quartered. It is said that Ecqwynn ordered the body parts to be roasted on a spit and that she herself feasted on them that very night, though this tale is in all likelihood apocryphal. It was a brutal age, at any rate.

the great sword

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