The Novice's Story

A dark knight in the convent

The Novice’s Story and The Knight’s Story, which follows are prequels, a bit of scene setting, for The Demon’s Lure, a mini serial that will be published in March.

The Demon’s Lure is set in the present day but the entities in it were summoned to this world by events that took place hundreds of years ago. The Novice’s Story and The Knight’s Story tell of the first of those.

The Novice

Once when I was younger I crept from my cell into the chapel. The stone floor was cold beneath my bare feet but I felt passion surging through me. I slipped off my shift hoping the cool night air on my skin might calm me, but it was not to be. My heart pounded and the touch of my fingertips as they explored the secret recesses of my body sent shivers of arousal through me.

The sword of a hero lay on the altar for the priest to bless before he left on a holy quest the next day. I stood naked in the flickering candlelight and ran my fingers along the polished blade. I imagined the strong hands of the knight caressing me and my passion rose. My fingers crept back between my thighs, pushing aside the soft folds of skin where they worked frantically until they glistened with my excitement. I pushed them as far as I could inside me but I still lusted for more. I wanted to feel the hardness of his flesh against the soft skin of my thighs as he pushed my legs apart to force inside me.

The candles on the altar flickered and one spluttered out as if the draft of someone entering had blown across it. I turned and crouched, reaching for my shift, but the darkness was silent. Rising from the floor, I loosed the smoking candle from its holder and pressed it against my breast, imagining it was my master’s shaft. I gasped as a few drops of the still molten wax dripped from the wick onto the soft skin but the pain merely heightened my exhilaration. Gently I ran the hard end of the candle down my body, the wax was as warm as flesh.

I pushed the tip between my legs and into the folds of my waiting lips, parting them gently, coating the shaft with my desire. My passion surged and I pushed the candle deep inside. I gasped in the night air as I felt my muscles clamp against the hard shaft and I began to buck up and down its length. I tried to suppress the growls of passion that escaped from my lips as I felt my climax building. I plunged a greater length into me and my mind soared above the confines of the chapel. I imagined myself submitting completely to my master, I would be his sword-bearer, called to the knight’s chamber the night before the battle.

“I can help you with that little one.”

The voice from the darkness startled me.

The Knight

I shall stay to watch her burn. My only regret is that I only got one poke at that nice little virgin cunt before they turn it to ashes. She did not see me sleeping on one of the pews when she entered the chapel. I should have been knelt in penance in front of the altar but a man needs his rest when he is off to kill Saracens the next day.

Watching her strip naked and seeing what she was doing with the altar candles it seemed only honourable to offer her my rod. What woman would not prefer the feel of a man’s flesh to the cold wax of a candle?

Maybe if she had not screamed so loud when I lifted her onto the altar and penetrated her the Mother Superior would not have awakened. Now, these illiterate peasants have decided she is a witch. She must be to have lured me, a man of such piousness and distinction, a knight who wears the cross of Saint George into a carnal act on the altar of the convent.

They have lit the fire. The flames are licking through the fagots below her. She is writhing. I love it so much when they scream. That’s strange the flames have roared upwards and become an inferno. It’s so bright that the girl is enveloped. I can no longer see her. The villagers are recoiling back as if the gates of hell have just opened in front of them: a quick end for her but less of a spectacle for us.

The flames are dying back. There is nothing but smoke and the stake she was tied to is empty. Usually they hang like charred meet or drop down onto the fagots like a roasted hog, but now there is nothing. Was the inferno so great that it consumed her completely?

I spur my horse on. There are heathen women in distant lands that will get to taste my good Christian pintle before I put them to the sword.

This is not the end. There is one more story to tell about the knight and the novice. It will appear next week.

In the meantime my darkly erotic serial Goldilocks is free to read in full

And if you want to know a little about how my mind works when I’m writing supernatural erotica