Sleeping Beauty

In the light of the rising sun, the barrier glowed with evil energy. Like an eagle's talons the thorns reached out to shred the hapless victim. All around the hedge were ripped cloth and abandoned weapons where adventurers had given up trying to hack their way through. Above and behind this daunting obstacle, a splendid, if rather tattered, castle of towers and battlements gleamed in the bright morning rays.

However, it seemed that not everyone had failed to make an entrance. In some places the old gnarled growth had been sliced away and replaced with faster younger branches. The resulting impression was a spiky patchwork of greens and browns, aged according to when the hedge had repaired the damage of more determined knights.

Roland gauged the depth and age of the tangle in front of him, and sighed. Being a knight in shining armour was hard work...and he hoped that the maiden he was to rescue was going to be at least moderately grateful. Apart from food and lodging, he needed to repair his surcoat and get his armour burnished. His sword need sharpening and as for his shield...well, the last dragon he had met had rather scorched the paintwork.

With slow methodical strokes he cut away at the branches, stopping every now and then to throw them behind him before they tripped him up. At first it had seemed a never ending task, but after an hour he had cut away enough to form a short tunnel, and when he stopped to peer ahead, he was sure that there the other side was getting closer.

So it was, by mid morning, that the final pieces of the hedge were destroyed and he was able to step into the grounds of the castle.

Once there, his sword resting point first on the ground, our knight was troubled by something. It wasn't anything defined, but an absence that tugged at his consciousness like a fractious child. Looking around and listening he worried away at the problem. And then it came to him...it was the absence of sound. There were no birds singing or bees buzzing. No children scampered or soldiers marched. No trumpets resounded or gates clanged shut. Silence rested on the grounds and castle within the briers like a thick eiderdown in mid winter.

As Roland walked across the grass, (that was strangely well kept considering the absence of gardeners), the noise of his armour was embarrassingly discordant. So great was his discomfort that at the entrance to the castle gate he removed the metal plate that was his working gear, walking into the cool of the courtyard in his quilted gambeson and trews, but still carrying his sword and shield in case of sudden dangers.

Most of the doors in the castle seemed wedged shut in such a way that no amount of pushing would open them. Working his way around the entrances off the courtyard, there was only one door that yielded to his shoulder. It was the door to a wide tower set in the outer wall. Before stepping into the dark he looked up, seeing the forbidding tower loom over him; the tallest tower in the castle. He gave an involuntary shudder and momentarily wondered about turning back. But then the thought of riches, honour, and a fair maiden to boot, made him stiffen his nerve and step over the threshold.

The way ahead was a winding staircase arranged around a central pillar. Slowly, cautiously, he climbed the steps, trying to peer ahead to see what dangers lurked above, yet also taking in the florid decoration on the outer walls. At intervals there were slit windows whose lighted apertures relieved the gloom of the stone work.

Interspersed between were niches that held statues. These were all knights in various items of armour and courtly dress. What was odd was that as the tower ascended, so the styles the knights wore seemed to become more and more recent, starting with mail that was at least 100 years old until the most recent had armour patterned like his own.

Obviously all the statues were made of stone. Obviously, Roland thought to himself, although the detail was incredible and the features so lifelike. At one point he shuffled over to a figure posed in the act of lifting his sword in a parry, but just as he was about to reach out and touch the statue, a noise up above made him jump back and lift his own sword and shield in perfect imitation.

Roland shook his head, chided himself for acting as a callow youth, rather than as an experienced knight of 21 Summers, and started to stride up the stairs in the manner of a martial hero.

After 30 or so turns of the tower, our hero reached a double door. It was closed, and a pattern of writhing snakes seemed to tie them together like a love knot. For a while he stood, tracing their sinuous forms with his eyes as if mesmerised. They seemed not only to be linked, but coupled, coupling, indulging in mutual pleasure.

With a sudden shake of his head, Roland broke the spell, stepped forward, firmly placed a hand on each ornate handle, and thrust his way into the room at the top of the tower.

After the semi-gloom of the passage that had preceded point, the light in the room he now stood in was almost overwhelming. Everything was surrounded with a filmy haze, a covering of magic and allure. Along the walls there were chests of drawers, wardrobes and mirrors. In the centre of the room stood a large four poster bed. All around that bed hung gauzy white diaphanous fabric that eddied gently in the fresh Summer breeze from the open window in the far wall. A scent of roses and wild flowers wafted in the air, and he felt like a doorway to a new and magical life had just been opened.

With reverent steps he walked towards the bed, spying a sleeping form amongst the tangled nest of bedding.

Slowly, lest by undue haste he taint the peaceful mood of the room, Roland parted the bed hangings and gazed down on the figure gently slumbering. Transfixed, he felt his heart melt as he saw the long blond tresses overflowing on the thick pillows. He took in the full red lips, the gentle blush glow of the cheeks and the long eyelashes drawing a veil on the sleeping beauty's eyes.

Hoping that she would remain asleep a little longer, he pulled back the covers, impelled by a primal need left unfulfilled since he dalliance with a milkmaid three weeks previously. Heat flushed his cheeks, though, when he saw that this slip of a girl was, in fact, naked, though her pulled up legs and tucked in arms hid her greater charms. Stunned and confused at this display of maidenly shape, he stepped back in guilty alarm as he saw her move.

In a movement that combined a cat like stretch and rolling over onto her back, the girl uncovered everything that previously his imagination had loosely sketched, and he saw that his imagination was wanting. The vision before him opened her eyes, looked at him with a languorous smile and in a low voice said,

"Good morning my brave knight. I do hope that you are here to rescue me, because I have been here waiting such a long time."

And with that she swiftly knelt up, and flung her slim arms around his neck, pulling him onto her warm and supple body.

"And now that you here, it seems such a pity not to grant you the first part of your reward."

With surprising skill and strength, his seducer removed his garments before he could protest, and uncovered evidence of his arousal. She looked up at him and grinned,

"So you like what you see? Shall we discover if you know what to do with a girl now you're here?"

Stung by this slur on his manhood, Roland lost no time in taking his unsheathed weapon and plunging it directly into her wet and waiting pussy. She gave a gurgle of pleasure and wrapped herself around him, grinding her hips up as if to ensure that no inch was lost to her pleasure. Although he attempted to hold off on his spending by thinking of foes he had slain and swords broken in battle, our knight was not long in the fray. Within minutes of discovering that her lithe tight form was consistent inside and out, he cried out as he felt himself lose his essence into that warm receptacle.

With a groan of sadness he collapsed onto her naked breasts, his head resting beside her on the pillow. Despite the wonder of what had happened, he felt somewhat unsatisfied, let down, disenchanted, as if the consummation left something to be desired.

"Fear not, my hero," his temptress whispered in his ear as she toyed with his auburn locks, "You will have many more chances to enter the lists, and to improve your standing."

He turned to look at her, hearing a slight mocking tone in her voice...but saw only love and desire...the reward of a knight rescuing a fair maiden. At that, worn out by the day's efforts to reach this place of pleasure, he closed his eyes, and fell asleep.