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.
