Saved by the Dark Knight

Katrina watched her mare Rosie grazing the meadow as she meandered along the bank of a stream, deep in thought. Her wedding was a mere month away now; time was a fickle trickster, slipping away from her. Soon she’d have no choice but to go to the bed of Lord Rolf a virgin, and she couldn’t stand the thought. He was nearing thirty years older than her, and had packed off his last two wives to convents when they proved too meek in the bedroom. Katrina didn’t think she’d be meek. She was more likely to scratch his eyes out when he laid a hand on her.

Her father had good reason to arrange the marriage. It was their family’s best hope of keeping their land, and thus the peasants’ best hope of not being subjected to the direct rule of Lord Rolf. For that reason, she hadn’t rebelled against her father’s wishes. But she couldn’t believe what she was being asked to do. Lord Rolf was so old, and to imagine her first experience of lovemaking with a decrepit old tyrant just didn’t do it for her. Yet what choice did she have?

Katrina stopped walking for a moment and watched the flow of the stream, gurgling over the rocks steady in its bed. She sank to sit on a rock there by the water’s edge, looking back over her shoulder to see Rosie grazing nearby. She wouldn’t cry; that’s what she would not do. It wasn’t like she was fourteen, some silly girl bent on a perfect wedding night. She’d seen enough women get married to understand that the ceremony was for the woman, the wedding night was for the man. Yet she also knew that women could find joy in the bedroom, and the bedding. She’d witnessed that in stolen moments in the castle as she skulked about avoiding the womanly work her mother had set her to.

One time she saw the maid enjoying herself with the stable boy, quite handily. They’d both made so many noises of pleasure that Katrina had almost lost her wits and joined in. They’d made her feel things she hadn’t understood at the time. But she’d thought on it a lot since, like when they went to the king’s court and watched the jousting, the knights on their fine horses, so shiny and utterly masculine. They’d pounded each other into dust on the jousting field. Katrina had wondered then, as she wondered now, what it would be like to spread her thighs and let a man like that pound into her body, consuming her with his heat, his form, his lust.

The idea made her tingle between her thighs, that spot at her core, that place where a man would enter her. She grew wet and hot and achy. She didn’t want the old man, Lord Rolf, to be the one to enter her. She knew he would be, but did it have to be him for her first time?
She’d already been subjected to her virginity test, and Lord Rolf’s old maid had confirmed she was entering her marriage in pristine virginal condition. Now, in another month that wouldn’t be the case. She’d be the mistress of Castle Cavenaught, and share Lord Rolf’s bed every night.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he’d be a really good lover and make up for his age and looks. She could only hope, because there was a need in her that demanded to be satisfied, ever since she’d seen those knights on the jousting field last summer.

Katrina rose and kept walking, the stream’s continual movement calling her to the same. The late spring afternoon was warm and lush, and the foliage grew thick along the meandering path.

Suddenly, Katrina thought she heard a noise. When she stopped to listen, a soft moan drew her attention to the thicket in front of her. She saw Rosie prick her ears; the horse had been following her at a distance, grazing in the grassy meadow near Katrina’s route. There was definitely someone in there, and Katrina quelled the urge to run. She could leap on Rosie’s bare back in an instant and ride her trusted mare to home and safety. Yet safety wasn’t exactly what Katrina was after at the moment.

Those moans gave her a fair idea of what was going on in the bushes, but she still had wild fantasies about what she’d find if she took a peek. Did she dare?

She crept forward, her feet moving seemingly of their own volition, without orders from her. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this; it was far from the safest, most rational idea. She just couldn’t help herself. She was drawn to find out more about this unexpected treat in her otherwise dull life, which had become ever drearier as she dreaded the bed of a man nearly as old as her grandfather.

Katrina finally came to a spot where she could see through the branches to find a dark-haired man seated on the ground, leaning against a towering rock. His trews were open and his hand pumped at his lap. His head was thrown back and he moaned again, softly, as his hand slowed and the head of his penis showed above his fist, its large mushroom-top glistening. Katrina gasped, then clamped her mouth firmly shut as his dark eyes flew open and pinned her where she stood.