Queen Martha And The Knights Of The Bound Table

I fell in love with the King Arthur myth when I saw John  Boormans “Excalibur” in 1981. A high powered cast, wonderful music, and one of the most erotic dance scenes on film (Igrayne – the dancer who aroused everyone’s lust  was Katrine Boorman, daughter of the Director. Imagine the father daughter chat on the set that day)

I decided to mix the myth with the ethos of the  Carry On movies (my favourite is “Carry On Up The Khyber”) a very British type of comedy filled with puns and innuendos and a relentless humor that doesn’t slow down.

Be warned, “Queen Martha And The Knights Of The Bound Table” is a tale of bondage, whips, leather, and lots and lots of puns. Enjoy.

Maudlin the magician felt that he was not accorded the respect at court that his abilities and position deserved. As the magician who had helped make Queen Martha the woman she was today, he should not be referred to as “that sad old Celt”. Anyway, it was hard to be joyful when you were living your life backwards in time as he was. It wasn’t always fun knowing what, and who, was going to come next.

Ah but today would be different. Today, at dawn, he had a meeting that could change everything. Descending into the bowels of Camealot (he should never have let her call it that, too backward looking and bourgeois; only one step away from Dunscruin) Maudlin let his mind form the image of Martha’s half sister Fata Morgana. It was a big image. Morgana, more than twice Martha’s size and with half her looks, hated the way Martha always called her Fat Mo, running it together into a single insulting word Fatmo. Martha never even noticed the hurt that she caused. Now Morgana was plotting revenge and she wanted Maudlin’s help. There’d be a price to pay of course.  There was always a price.

* * *

The young squire with his head between Queen Martha’s legs was on the verge of becoming a Knight of the Bound Table. He had been in training for a year and a day. In all that time he had served the sexual needs of others without ever being allowed relief. He had mastered the ability to become erect on command and to stay that way for hours at a time. Although technically still a virgin, he had studied the martial art of Tao Chi Feeli, and was able to pleasure women and men with or without the use of paraphernalia. Now, on the eve of his 21st birthday, he was ready to become a Knight and serve under his Queen. All he need do was maintain his erection from dusk until dawn while pleasing all those who called upon him and he would receive the Queen’s blessing.

So far the young squire was doing well. Lady Cuminere and Sir Wiltalot had played with him for hours. The noble knight had a reputation for being a bit premature in his actions, but Martha had noticed that he wilted a lot less often when the tight bum of a young squire was available to him.

It was Lady Cuminere who had set the squire his most difficult test. An hour ago she had provoked his erection until she could flick the end of his cock with her nail and it would remain unmoved. Then she had tied strong thread tightly round the squire’s balls and the base of his cock, pulled the thin thread up between his buttocks and used it to tie the young man’s thumbs together, leaving no slack at all in the thread. Any sudden movement would cause him pain. Staying still left him constantly stimulated. Martha had been impressed by the squire’s ability to remain motionless while Cuminere slowly covered the palms of his hands in hot wax. His suppressed moans of pain against the Queen’s labia as each drop of wax fell had been thrilling.

Martha spread her legs a little wider, wriggled to a more comfortable spot and tugged on the young squire’s ears to urge him to increase his pace. Turning her head to one side, Martha let her tongue flick across Lady Cuminere’s irresistible mouth, rousing her from her doze. Cuminere smiled, she knew what her Queen required.  Cuminere’s breasts were famous throughout the land: large, shapely, firm and with long nipples that she allowed to poke through her leather breastplate even when she went in to battle. The bounteously endowed woman now made her nipples available to the Queen and was rewarded by the familiar touch of skilled royal fingers between her legs.

Martha suspected that Maudlin was somehow involved in the forming of Cuminere’s perfect flesh. She wondered what exactly Cuminere had had to do to win such a blessing. Maybe some day she would make Cuminere tell her, perhaps even re-enact whatever task it had been.

* * *

Morgana had been studying magic secretly for years; patiently acquiring small fragments of the craft and then piecing them together. Now she felt she had learned enough to take from Maudlin the one spell she most desired. She, who was named after an illusion, would finally master the ability to shape-shift.

Running her hands slowly over her substantial flesh, Morgana summoned the sexual arousal her magic fed upon. No one in Camealot seemed to think that Fatmo had any sexual needs. Only thin people fucked. Fat people were just fucked up. Oh she’d had the odd session with a Knight too drunk to care who’s body he used, but mostly she’d been casually, thoughtlessly, excluded from the sex-life of the castle. Soon, when she could assume any form she liked, she would make up for the lost years and take revenge on Martha for treating her so badly.

As Morgana’s nipples hardened and her juices flowed, she could feel the heat of magic flowing through her. With her heightened senses she became aware of the wizard’s descent towards her lair. Morgana found Maudlin’s power attractive and his growing disaffection useful. Tonight she would pursue power through pleasure; pursue it ruthlessly. Twisting her nipples in joy, Morgana began to laugh. As her lust and magic mingled, a nimbus of crimson light coruscated across Morgana’s naked body.

By the time the wizard reached her, Morgana was wreathed in what seemed to be glowing serpents of blood. Inside an almost abandoned chamber of his soul, Maudlin felt his Dragon stir in answer to the serpents call.

* * *

The young squire, released from his bonds, knelt, still erect, mouth  glazed with his Queen’s spend, facing the east window, awaiting the rising of the sun. Martha watched him with envy for his belief. He was waiting to receive the Queen’s favour with religious devotion. The Queen looked down at the means by which she would bestow that favour: XCalibre.

In preparation for the climax of the ceremony, Martha let her mind return to that day, in her nineteenth summer, when she had first encountered XCalibre. She had spent the previous year locked away with the Wizard Maudlin, practicing skills that, according to the wizard, were part of The Way of Power: the use of the flogger, the scarifier, the clamp and, of course, the whip.

There was no doubt she understood the whip. She loved to hear the air sigh as the whip cut through it, to see flesh sliced and blood flow.  With the whip she could caress or cut at will. The wizard said that the whip was the medium through which she accessed her anima; bringing the power of her spirit into the physical world.  Martha knew it must be a powerful spirit, for when she used the whip she became calm and excited at the same time and was possessed of an indomitable power. She also achieved a level of sexual transcendence that, had she but known it, awed the wizard. Martha glowed when she used the whip. She generated a field of sexual energy that affected all around her.

Now young Martha she was going to The Naming. She felt so full of life she could barely contain it. She wore the traditional black leather breastplate and short leather skirt. Her whip, Shadow, was coiled around her thigh. It soothed her to have Shadow there. Maudlin had conjured Shadow for her; a living whip, existing partly in this world and partly in the world beyond the mists. The wizard had confirmed what Martha’s instincts had already told her: she must bond with the whip, making it an extension of her will. She fed Shadow on the pain he inflicted and he filled her with power. Maudlin had not had to teach Martha the ritual of licking her whip clean of blood at the end of a session, it had seemed obvious to her that this is what should be done. She loved the warmth of the whip when it returned to her, the way it throbbed under her touch.

Striding through the forest towards The Glade, Martha held Shadow’s shaft and ran her thumb over the smooth pommel that had brought her so much pleasure in her nights of enforced solitude over the past year. She paid no attention to the gentle tightening and release of the whip’s coils as she walked. She was focused entirely on The Naming and what it meant. She did not notice how the crowds parted for her, nor how those she passed closest to stroked themselves. Martha left a wake of lust to mark her path through the forest.

The most powerful women in the land would be at The Naming, each seeking to demonstrate that they were the True Born Queen. There had been strife in the land for nearly a generation now, with faction fighting faction for control. Three months ago, as Maudlin had predicted, the stone had appeared in the Glade, the spiritual navel of the land. Jutting out of the stone was the head of an obsidian phallus, that caught the rays of the sun at dawn and filled the Glade with light.  The inscription on the stone read: “Whosoever calls this phallus from the stone is the True Born Queen”.  Everyone had seen that naming the True Born Queen would bring peace to the land. Every leader felt that she must be the True Born Queen and that the phallus would prove it. A date for The Naming had been set and now the day had arrived.

Martha would never forget the moment she entered The Glade and saw XCalibre for the first time. The whole world went silent and grey. Nothing existed except her, XCalibre and Shadow. They were a trio destined to sing songs of pain a pleasure for the world.

In her mind the phallus spoke to her and her body was filled with joy.

“Welcome Martha, welcome Shadow, I am XCalibre. Together we will bring peace to the land. Wait now, until I call you to free me”.

Martha was in a trance, unable to move, waiting to be filled with that voice again. Around her thigh, Shadow tightened his grip until the he drew blood.

With part of her mind Martha was aware that powerful women where taking turns trying to free the phallus from the stone. She saw Magdelene the Massive lower her mighty thighs around the phallus, gripping it tightly within her and pulling fiercely until orgasm forced her to release the still-trapped head and sent her sprawling to the ground, semiconscious.  She watched the Sylvana of the Woods stroke and lick and suckle the phallus until she too fell into a stupor of lust. The Lady Tittonia advanced on XCalibre with a smile, tied her nipple rings together on the far side of the shaft and massaged the phallus with her breasts. She continued, moving in a rhythm she didn’t seem to control, until she was covered in sweat and visibly excited. Her nipple ring glowed with a bright light, the binding released and Tittonia fell backwards, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.

After two hours, the stone was surrounded by the stunned bodies of the seven most powerful leaders in the land. By now the crowd had noticed that all the bodies moved to the same slow rhythm. Something had them in a thrall of ecstasy. Only Martha knew that the women moved to the beat of XCalibre’s song.

“Come to me Martha. Release me. Show that you are the True Born Queen.” XCalibre’s voice released Martha from her trance and filled her with the energy it was drawing from the seven women.

She stepped boldly up to the stone and shouted to the encircling crowd “I, Martha Pendragon, daughter of Ursula Pendragon, demand my turn”.

There were mutterings of surprise in the crowd. Ursula Pendragon had been dead for ten years and her family was no longer a power in the land. The wizards, worried at the failure of the seven women who had tried so far, and sensing Martha’s sexual power, signalled that she should continue.

Instead of going closer to the stone, Martha stood back and drew out her whip. Shadow was scarlet with Martha’s blood and twitched with pent up power. Bringing her whip from behind her head, Martha cried, “Come to me XCalibre”.

Shadow sliced through air with vicious joy and gripped XCalibre firmly around the shaft. For a second nothing happened; girl whip and phallus were locked in a tableau of want and power. Then the rock split open and XCalibre and Shadow flew back into Martha’s hand.

As the crowd around her shouted “Queen Martha, Queen Martha, Queen Martha” and the refused leaders woke from their trance and came to kneel before her, Martha’s eyes widened while the glassy phallus in her hand showed her what to do next.

That had been the beginning. Now Martha would repeat the ritual with the soon-to-be knight in front of her. As the first rays of dawn struck XCalibre, the chamber was bathed in light and the ritual began.

* * *

Almost filling the huge cave at the base of the castle, two dragons were lost in the throes of mating. The cobalt male dragon was mounted on the back of the larger red wingless female. Their necks and tails entwined, the male dragon used his wings to balance as he thrust at tremendous speed into the substantial form below him.

For the first time in a century, Maudlin lost himself to lust. He was the dragon now: huge, powerful, filled with the madness of rut. His wings were at full stretch, his talons were buried in the red scales beneath him and his barbed cock plundered the soft depths of the female. Maudlin’s arousal was such that, in his rush to take Morgana, he had shouted the shapeshifting spell he would normally have mouthed silently. He didn’t care. He needed this. He deserved this. He was a powerful wizard and this was his reward. Maudlin’s mind melded with his dragon form as his seed shot deep within the she-dragon below him. For a moment he was nothing but the dragon.

A moment was all that it took. Morgana had been waiting for that moment and used it to cast that spell of binding that can only be spoken in the dragon’s tongue. Freeing herself easily from beneath the smaller dragon, Morgana looked into Maudlin’s eyes and saw the fear there. He could not speak. He could not change back. Morgana used the spell Maudlin had unwittingly given her to resume her normal shape.

“I hope you enjoyed the ride Maudlin. Your technique needs work even for a dragon. Sadly you will have no time to practice I fear. But be happy for me. Your fumbling efforts were successful. I carry within me now a dragon-daughter. How powerful she will be. What a shame you will never see her born.”

Maudlin was screaming silently behind the dragon’s eyes. This was not how it was supposed to end. He had never seen the dragon-daughter in his pictures of the future. Something terrible had gone wrong.

Morgana stroked the dragon’s snout. “There is always a price Maudlin. This time it’s your turn to pay.”

Morgana put her robe back on then ripped it to expose one large breast. Using the immobilised dragon’s claw she raked her shoulder and drew blood. Running up the stairs she shouted “Guards! Guards! A dragon! Help me. Kill it before it kills us all.”

* * *

Lady Cuminere and Sir Wiltalot knelt shoulder to shoulder in front of the squire. Their tongues met and formed a cushion for the tip of the Squire’s cock. Their open mouths would receive his first spend in over a year.

XCalibre and Martha were now one. The phallus, nested in Martha’s cunt, feeding off her energy, glowed and writhed in front of her, eager to bestow the Queen’s blessing. Martha released Shadow and sent him to wrap around the squire’s neck to heighten the young man’s pleasure.

The squire trembled at the whip’s caress, then groaned as XCalibre entered him. Martha pressed her breasts into his strong back and placed her left hand around the rigid base of his cock. Without her needing to move, XCalibre filled and probed both of them, pushing and prodding towards a transcendent climax.

Martha’s blood sang. She was the only one in the room who heard XCalibre and Shadow join in. At the height of the song, the man in front of her found his long-delayed release.

“Bless you Sir Fortescru” his Queen whispered in his ear.


© Mike Kimera 2000 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

A story without a reader is incomplete. Please let me know what you think of this story by leaving a comment below.

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