include_once("common_lab_header.php");
Excerpt for A Song of Camelot by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

This page may contain adult content. If you are under age 18, or you arrived by accident, please do not read further.

A Song of Camelot

The dirty weekend in Devon was off to a good start. What could go wrong? A trip to the court of Camelot, complete with sex powered magical elves, amorous dragons, dryads, mermaids and a lovelorn ogress. That’s what!

Sir Galahad is on a quest, to find and fuck the Holy Grail. It sounded simple enough, but a phantom archer, armed with Cupid’s bow and arrows, complicates matters. Not only that, but the Grail herself seems less than convinced by the plan!

As Galahad continues his search, he puts in plenty of practice, hoping the Holy Grail will change her mind and allow him to fulfil his mission.

A Song of Camelot is a novel for all those big boys and girls that always thought Peter Pan was a prick, but still refused to grow up themselves. Which is not to say we didn’t all fancy the knickers off Tinkerbell!

Reviews

What readers had to say about the exciting new novel, A Song of Camelot.

“It’s an absolute disgrace, a grown man writing juvenile smut like this. It’s quite funny, mind you!” Jenny, Nottelling

“I had to take so many cold showers, I ran out of hot water!” Mr C Upid, Surbiton

“I was outraged that he could write such things about me! Just because something happens to be true, you don’t have to splash it all over a book! I mean, splash it all over my bum if you feel you must, but …” Samantha Minx, Berkshire

“I feel I should have been given a bigger part!” Reg, Birmingham

“All a bit fishy, if you ask me!” Mary, Zennor

“You shouldn’t believe in everything you read about.” L T Art, Absolutely Nowhere

Free Book Offer

The Birds

Get The Birds for Free

A Song of Camelot

by

Seymour Stevens

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2018 Seymour Stevens

Prelude

Deeping Castle

Down to Devon

An Evening’s Entertainment

My Hero

A Hero’s Welcome

A Conversation

Hell Hound

Another Conversation

Into the Woods

The Green Knight

The Drifter

Maiden Castle

The Misused Knight

Morgan the Fey

A Road Trip

Gloria

Welcome to Camelot

Royalty

The Hunt

Dragon Taming

Guinevere’s Request

Elf Girl

That Bastard Lancelot

Raiders

Reflections

Lancelot and the Last Straw

The Feast

Eureka!

Just a Joust

The North Woods

The Lovers

The Talking Tree

Kernow

The Lady in the Lake

Love Me, Love My Girl

Discovery

Falling Out of Love

Seeing the Sights

The Holy Grail

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Also by Seymour Stevens

A Free Gift - The Birds

Out Now - A Shot in the Dark

Coming Soon - Deeping Dreams

About the Author

Prelude

On a solitary hill in the centre of a wide green vale stands a gleaming castle. It is newly built and the weather has yet to make an impact on the smooth white stonework. Indeed, a few rickety wooden cranes still perch perilously on the castle’s high walls, putting the finishing touches to the battlements. Flags and banners are flying from every turret, and atop tallest tower, at the very heart of the castle, streaming out in the gentle breeze, is the largest flag of all, showing a black bear on a white field.

Let’s zoom in a bit. As we near the walls, sunlight reflects from the weapons and armour of the castle’s guards. Queues stretch along the tracks leading to the main gates, food and equipment for the castle’s residents needs to be delivered.

As we come even closer to the central tower, we see that instead of the arrow slits that punctuate the outer turrets, this tower has leaded glass windows. The glass is not exceptionally clear or smooth, so the image we see through this particular window is distorted by the refraction. But we can see well enough to make out the woman seated inside. She seems to be a good looking girl, so let’s cheat and become a fly on the wall.

Yes, quite the looker, that’s for sure! Blonde hair cascades over dainty bare shoulders and curls down her back. She’s obviously not expecting casual visitors as she hasn’t bothered to dress. No dress at all. From our position, we can make out generous firm breasts above a flat stomach. It is tempting to fly closer for a better look, but for all we know she may be a dab hand with the rolled up newspaper! We’ll have to settle for looking from where we are on the wall.

We can’t make out what lies below her flat stomach and above her long smooth legs, because both of her hands are in there, moving purposefully. There are beads of perspiration on her upper lip and her tongue is slightly poking out. Her breathing is shallow and quick, getting faster by the moment.

Given what she’s up to and her state of undress, I bet she thought she was alone. However, now we can see that the chamber door is slightly ajar, and through the narrow opening we can just make out a man’s shape, his eye pressed to the gap. He’s licking his lips.

The woman starts to groan quietly, muttering words that you wouldn’t think a lady would know. Her hands are a blur. Her head leans right back. Then her legs start to twitch and quiver. With a gasp and a profanity, she curls up on herself, her hands still buried where they have been performing their task.

This appears to be the orgasmic moment the unknown voyeur has been waiting for. Pushing the door slightly wider, he raises a small bow. The bow is made of gilded wood with many curling decorations, it doesn’t look too practical, but there is a miniature arrow already nocked to the string.

With a cry, the woman leans back in her chair, eyes closed. The man looses his dart at just this moment and the tiny arrow whispers across the room, sinking deep into one plump, rosy nippled breast. The woman doesn’t seem to feel the arrow hit her. Perhaps with all the things she’s feeling from feeling herself, she hasn’t got any spare feelings to feel anything else.

Seeing his arrow hit its mark, the man nods to himself and slides back out of the room, pulling the door silently closed behind him.

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of the castle, in a curious room full of retorts, alembics, and curly tubes of glass and copper, a white haired old man is feeling a kitchen maid. He’s pushed her shift up over her breasts and is giving her firm young puppies the attention they so richly deserve. He seems intent on his task, and the maid is egging him on, pushing his head down to suck on an excited nipple.

At the moment the arrow strikes another breast, in another tower, he pulls his head away from the breasts in hand and sniffs the air. He has sensed that things have suddenly changed. Ignoring the pouting protests from the abandoned maid, he moves to his workbench. He has important things to do. He thinks he might even get a bit of fun out of it!

Deeping Castle

Tucked away in the emerald green folds of the mid-Devon hills is the small, but very old, Deeping Castle. Although the castle has been extensively modified over the centuries, it has been inhabited for more than fifteen hundred years. In a much cruder form, it was already there when the Saxons first arrived on these shores. It stood firm while the Danes plagued King Alfred. It watched impassively as the Normans invaded. It saw off the Wars of the Roses and the Spanish Armada. The Civil War left it unmoved. Napoleon never even got close enough to set eyes on the castle. A stray bomb took a chip out of the battlements during World War II. Deeping Castle has stood aloof and inviolate for more than fifteen centuries as history has unrolled around it.

Nowadays, one tower and a few rooms surrounding it have been thoroughly modernised and made into a comfortable and spacious living area. Other parts of the castle have seen various modifications over the ages, while the south west corner remains nearly untouched and is much as it was originally constructed all those centuries ago.

Down to Devon

Jenny and I were on our way to Deeping for the weekend.

My partner, Jenny, is a ravishingly gorgeous brunette. Perfectly formed, not only is she beautiful, she is a warm, intelligent, generous and caring young woman with a heart of gold, and one who is quite capable of reading over my shoulder.

She also has a sex drive that could power starships!

It would also appear, that in addition to all those fine qualities I’ve just listed, she has quite a punch on her when she feels I’m being a “Cheeky sod!”

Anyway, if you’ll forgive my slightly crippled typing style for the moment, I’ll continue. Deeping Castle’s current occupants were Sir Leonard Fitz-Robyn and his wife, the Lady Mary, and they had invited us down to Devon to visit them. Jenny and I had got to know this young couple at a party held at the Lotus Flower hotel.

I’d better tell you something about the Lotus Flower, as Jenny and I spend a lot of time there and a knowledge of what we get up to on our visits might make things clearer in the tale to come.

Standing as it does in the heart of the Berkshire countryside, you won’t find the Lotus Flower in any of the tourist guides, nor does it possess either AA or Michelin stars. There is no welcoming advertising sign to tempt passing travellers, no signposts, no real clues that it exists, save for a discrete brass plate fixed to stone gateposts at an opening between the trees on the side of the road. Passing through the gates, one reaches a driveway lined with rhododendron bushes that hide the hotel from passers-by.

Emerging from the rhododendron flanked drive, the visitor is greeted by the sight of the charming and ivy clad country house hotel itself. Three storeys high and built of golden sandstone, the building is surrounded by immaculately kept grounds. Neatly trimmed flowerbeds hold plants and petals for all seasons. The topiary that has been carried out on the various bushes and hedges is of a somewhat suggestive nature, but tame compared to the statuary bordering the neat gravel paths, which is much more explicit. Indeed, an aerial view reveals the whole garden to be laid out to form a picture that is positively pornographic.

While offering all the comforts and conveniences of a top class hotel, the Lotus Flower offers that something extra for the discerning customer. Its staff are rigorously vetted, both for discretion and their willingness to join in with the activities of the guests. They are actually very well paid for the little real work they do. Guests are by invitation only, membership being governed by a committee.

Let’s not beat around the suggestively shaped shrubbery any further, let us call a spade the earth moving utensil that it really is, the Lotus Flower hotel is an up-market sex club! And a very good one it is too!

So this is where Jenny and I met Sir Leonard and Lady Mary, and we got to know them very well indeed, intimately, one might say. I’ll leave the exact details to your imagination, but it would be fair to say we all enjoyed getting together a lot, many times!

The Lotus Flower is also where we first encountered Samantha, a pert little blonde package, as she describes herself. My advice is to stop her right there if you can, she’s a talkative soul! We met her soon after she’d started work at the hotel. A lovely and lively girl, she and Jenny hit it off straight away, rapidly forming a Mistress and slave relationship, once Jenny discovered quite what a chatterbox her new found friend was. Knowing her tendency to talk full well, Samantha became a willing slave, so that her Mistress could shut her up when necessary. This wasn’t the whole reason for the Mistress slave routine though, the other reasons were the opportunities it gave for sex, sex and more sex! Jenny calls her blonde slave a poppet or a minx according to circumstances.

Right, that’s everybody introduced for now, let’s get on with our trip to Deeping Castle.

* * *

Jenny and I left home in the car and headed for Devon, making a slight detour to pick up Samantha from the Lotus Flower. As we turned off the roundabout to join the M4, I noticed a hitchhiker, an old man, smiling as he waved his thumb in our direction. I considered stopping for him and glanced in the mirror to see what was behind me before pulling over. What I saw in the mirror was Samantha, who was already taking off her clothes. I decided that giving strangers a lift might not be appropriate after all. Giving the old man a rueful shrug, I continued on our way. He returned my shrug, and gave me a wide grin. I forgot about him and started to keep a closer eye on the rear view mirror and Samantha.

As to Samantha stripping off, it’s just one of the things she does. When not required for warmth, or when she’s obliged to behave with decorum, clothing just covers up things that other people should be looking at and admiring, she says. Naked, she feels, brings out the best in her, shows her off to her best advantage, and it’s hard to argue against this point. In fact, it can get hard just thinking about a naked Samantha!

Full nudity having been achieved, the minx started to touch herself. I can’t tell you all the details of which parts of herself she touched, as I was driving and there’s only so much you can see in a rear view mirror without causing an accident. Jenny had no such problems, she sat half turned in her seat, watching her minx’s actions with a gleam in her eye.

As we were passing Swindon, Jenny decided that the front passenger seat was not the proper place for her, and she started to climb over the back of her chair to join Samantha. I fear that I may have taken my eyes off the road for longer than safety decreed, while I looked up Jenny’s short skirt as she performed this manoeuvre.

Dangerous, I know, but I really had no choice in the matter, my eyes automatically focussed on her black lace panties. I did manage to wrench them away every now and then for a very quick glance at the road ahead, but back they were drawn to the curves of her bum, to the gusset of her panties, which was just about covering parts of her that I very much liked watching. I liked to do more than just watch these parts as well, much more!

Jenny having reached the sanctuary of the back seat and her poppet’s arms, I was allowed to concentrate a bit more on driving as she and Samantha started to kiss. As far as I could gather from the mirror, they were attempting to suck each other’s tongues out.

We had passed Bristol and I was negotiating the slip roads that took us from the M4 and onto the M5 when the last of Jenny’s own clothes came off. I suggested that really they should be wearing seatbelts.

“What? You want a bondage session in the middle of the M5?” Jenny asked.

Well, now that she’d brought the subject up, and the subject wasn’t the only thing that was up by now, I thought that this might be a very fine idea, but perhaps not, I had to concede, in the middle of the M5.

As we continued south and passed through the Mendip hills, the pair of them were going at each other like rabbits, or as Samantha likes to point out, does, that being the proper name for rabbits of the female persuasion. Brent’s Knoll’s fleeting appearance to our right was greeted by squeals of glee from the minx where Jenny had obviously found just the right spot.

“Glastonbury!”

The cry came from the minx in the back seat. How she’d managed to spot the road sign while being subjected to Jenny’s ministrations, I don’t know, but in between squeals she was insisting that we went to Glastonbury.

“That’s where Merlin came from! And King Arthur! It’s a magical place! I want to go there right now!”

Well, it’s not so far from the M5, so I took the next slip road, pausing for the traffic at the roundabout, before heading off across the Somerset levels. As we pulled away, I noticed the old hitchiker, he must have caught a good lift to get here before us, but there was even less chance of me stopping than there had been before, what with what was going on behind me.

Off we went across the levels, me driving a little erratically, as the girls continued their games in the back seat. I steeled myself to focus on the task of piloting us safely, while below the steering wheel a part of me was also giving a good impersonation of steel.

I thought I lasted out well, but after about fifteen minutes of journeying across the levels, I felt the need to pull into a convenient lay-by. Undoing my own seatbelt, I crawled over the seats to join the girls in the back.

I’m afraid we caused something of a traffic jam! Cars were pulling up alongside to watch our antics, ignoring the hooting of horns as others attempted to pass. The three of us were also ignoring everything that might distract us, we were fully focussed on each other. At that moment the world outside the car did not exist.

Perhaps I should apologise for the snarl-up we caused in the local traffic. If you were caught up in the jam, then I am sorry. Had I known that my actions were going to inconvenience you and cause delays, then I might have acted differently.

But probably not! It’s far more likely that I would have just gone “Oh, well,” and carried on doing exactly what I did, which was to attend to the two girls to the best of my ability. The girls seemed to feel that I was up to the task, which was to get up the girls as far as the confines of space in the car would allow.

But please accept my apologies, however insincere they may be.

* * *

Glastonbury is a pleasant enough town, but nothing special. It is Glastonbury Tor that attracts the visitors. Long ago, before the Somerset levels were drained, Glastonbury was an island, and the way the Tor erupts from the flat countryside, gives the impression that it could still be one. At the Tor’s summit, somebody found it necessary to build a small church, abandoned now, no doubt to replace some form of pagan symbolism. The views across the levels to the Mendip Hills are breath taking. The River Parrett snakes across the flat landscape far below as it winds its way to the Bristol Channel.

Jenny and her minx had dressed themselves before climbing the Tor, though I don’t suppose anybody would have minded in the least had they not bothered. Certainly not the group of middle class faux hippies that we found at the Tor’s summit, sitting in a loose circle and passing joints around. We walked around the church to take in the outlook from the other side.

A small cloud had formed overhead, seeming to be mere inches above our heads. Lightning flashed inside the confines of the the cloud, which was surely too small to contain so much electricity. Suddenly a bird seemed to materialise out of the white vapour and swoop down towards us. It was a hawk of some sort, I had no idea what variety of raptor it might be, but it sort of folded its wings and stooped down towards us, talons outstretched. We all ducked out of the way, frightened of those razor sharp claws that had seemed to be aiming for my face.

At the last second, the bird stretched out its wings and banked sharply, flying around us in three perfect circles before rising vertically into the air, where it levelled out its flight and took off like an arrow towards the distant Severn coast.

“What on earth was that?” Jenny asked.

I was thinking of explaining that it was some form of unidentified flying raptor, when Samantha surprised me.

“It was a merlin. The smallest of the falcon family. They’re quite rare.”

I goggled at her in amazement. I mean, I bow to no man in my admiration of Samantha’s finer points, and her mind probably just about creeps into the top ten of them, but this snippet of knowledge caused me to gasp at her avian identification talents. She saw me with my mouth still open and smiled.

“An old boyfriend. He was a twitcher. I got dragged out to all sorts of wild places to admire some of our feathered friends. Of course, being in out of the way places, also gave the opportunity for some al fresco sex. Which is not as much fun as it could be, let me tell you! Brambles and stinging nettles can put you right out of your stride, and I don’t even like to remember where those red ants managed to get themselves, the perverted little bastards!”

“Oh! Samantha! They didn’t ...”

“They most certainly did, Mistress!”

“Oh, you poor poppet.”

“But a merlin, that must be an omen, Mistress. A sign to show that we truly are on the mystical Isle of Avalon, Mistress. It could only have been Merlin himself coming to greet us, Mistress. Merlin the magician, the greatest wizard of all time, the one who looked after King Arthur, the one ...”

“Thank you, poppet.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Seizing my opportunity, now Jenny had cut her poppet’s prattle short, I joined the conversation.

“Well, I’m suitably impressed by the sight of a merlin, but it seemed as if it was going to land claws first on my face! I thought I was going to be wearing a feather moustache, attached by sharp claws!”

“Talons. But, yes, it did seem to be aiming at you, didn’t it?”

“What do you think it means, Mistress?”

“Probably nothing, poppet.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mistress. I think it must be Merlin giving us a sign. Something to do with him, Mistress. You know what he’s like, Mistress, always causing trouble!”

“Me? What have I done?”

I couldn’t see where Jenny’s minx had got the idea that I was a trouble maker, but then she and I have always had a bit of an edgy relationship. We both know that Jenny has heart and affection enough for both of us, but sometimes one or other of us will get a trifle jealous.

“You mean apart from sticking your dick up my arse in the car?”

“Yes, apart from me sticking my dick up your arse! What have I ever done to cause trouble?”

“But you stuck it right up my arse! Right up to the hilt! I could feel your balls bouncing on my bum!”

“Well, of course I did! You wouldn’t have wanted half measures, would you? You’d have moaned like anything if you’d only got half rations!”

Jenny had heard enough.

“That’s enough now, children! Any more of this and I shall have to send you both to bed!”

“Together?” I enquired hopefully.

“Absolutely not!”

Do you know? I thought I saw a mirror of my own disappointment on Samantha’s face.

“But, Mistress! He stuck it up my bum, Mistress!”

“Enough! I know he did! I was there, remember? Now behave, the pair of you. Or I won’t let him stick it up your bum when we get back to the car, you minx!”

“When we get back to the car?”

The minx and I asked this question together. Jenny thought about her answer for a moment.

“Well, maybe not in the town centre car park, and it’s getting a bit late if we’re going to make it to Deeping in time for dinner. Still, I suppose I could drive and you two could sit in the back.”

And that’s what we did. After racing down the hill, Samantha and I were already ripping each other’s clothes off in the back seat of the car before Jenny, who had made a more leisurely descent, arrived and started to drive us westward.

The minx and I were both on the back seat, but we didn’t do much sitting. Well, I suppose Samantha did for a while, but what she was sitting on couldn’t very accurately be described as a seat!

An Evening’s Entertainment

We finally arrived at Deeping Castle around seven o’clock. Sir Len and Lady Mary greeted us and then we just had time to go and freshen up before pre-dinner cocktails. Jenny and I were allocated a large and airy room in the renovated tower, with views of the Devon hills on two sides. Samantha was offered her own room, but elected to stay with her Mistress. This suited me and Jenny just fine.

Cocktails were served in a small and cosy lounge half an hour later. The five of us relaxed on comfortable couches and in deep armchairs. A pretty blonde waitress was preparing the cocktails and I was not alone in admiring the way she jiggled as she shook them. In fact I ordered a second cocktail, just to watch her tits bouncing! Jenny said she didn’t believe this for a moment, she thought I was just after another drink, but I swear it’s true. Either way, it didn’t stop Jenny staring at the waitress’ bouncing boobies as avidly as me.

We were chattering away, mostly about Devon and the glorious day it had been outside, and then we fell to talking about the castle. Somebody asked if there were any ghosts. Lady Mary laughed before replying.

“Hundreds, I expect, but I’ve never seen any. Though the villagers do say that Merlin appears here sometimes.”

“Merlin!” Samantha squealed the name, “King Arthur’s Merlin?”

“The very one. Local legend has it that Merlin built this castle, putting his magic into every stone.”

“We’ve just been to Glastonbury to see him! And we did see him! Well, we saw a bird, and it was a merlin. I think it was magic!”

“Anyway, he seems to have been something of a lively lad, or an old goat as the villagers describe him. There are a lot of similar names around these parts - Marlon, Merrion, Marilyn. They say he left a string of children in his wake wherever he went.”

“That’s not what he’s famous for in the stories, is it?”

“He must have had a good PR department.”

The door opened quietly at this moment and another blonde waitress entered the room. She could have been a sister of the bouncing cocktail girl’s. She bent down to speak quietly to Lady Mary who then rose to her feet and announced that dinner was being served. We downed the last of our drinks and followed the waitress’ black skirted backside down the hallway and into the dining room.

Dinner that evening was taken in the grand hall. It was an enormous room for five people to eat, but we all sat at one end of the great dining table, which could probably seat thirty or more people comfortably and with room to spare. It was a warm evening outside, but the thick stone walls of the castle cooled things down sufficiently to warrant a blazing wood fire in the central fireplace. There were candles on the table, but more for ambiance than lighting, which was provided by spotlights mounted high above on the arched ceiling. Classical music floated from concealed speakers, mostly Mozart as I recall.

We chatted of this and that as the two pretty blonde waitresses in black and white uniforms brought the various courses. We ate soup, fish, roast beef and trifle, each course accompanied by its own wine. Finally we settled down to cheese and biscuits with a bottle of ruby port.

“Do you feel up to a little after dinner entertainment?” Len asked us.

A chorus of mumbled assent gave answer and Len rang a small bell. The waitresses reappeared. They had changed! Gone were the sensible black skirts, white blouses and aprons, now they were dressed for action, if dressed is what you’d call it. They each wore black fishnet stockings and that was all they wore! They’d been pretty waitresses before, now they turned out to be absolutely beautiful dancers!

Mounting the table, they proceeded to give us a display which was somewhere between contemporary dance and gymnastic contortionism. They exhibited the female form in a show of flexibility that concealed absolutely nothing and revealed absolutely everything! To say that they were extremely good would be to understate their abilities by a long, long way.

I sat with my jaw hanging open and my trousers feeling too small. Jenny was hunched forward, keen not to miss anything. Samantha, who feels that naked is her department, was busy divesting herself of her garments. I spared a glance at Len and Mary, they were watching, but had obviously seen the show before. They were not as entranced by it as Jenny, her minx and me.

“There’s a ballet school in the next village.” Len explained. “They do this to earn a bit of pin money.”

“Surely they don’t teach that in ballet school!” I suggested.

The girls had managed to get their fingers inside each other while continuing the dance at a slower pace.

“Not as such.” Len agreed “But the principles are much the same. As far as I can gather, the whole thing about ballet is to get the girls’ legs spread as far apart as possible!”

“These two can certainly manage that!”

The girls were each standing on one leg, their other leg raised so that the soles of their feet touched above their heads. Their fingers were still inside each other and moving faster now. Jenny was licking her lips and starting to unbutton her blouse. Samantha’s blouse was long gone, along with the rest of her clothes. I looked briefly across at Mary and she winked at me. I returned my attention to the dancers, this was prime time exhibitionism and I didn’t want to miss a moment of the show.

All good things must come to an end, and eventually the dance did, coming to a climax with both girls doing that very thing, their fingers having done the job for each other! They lay on the table top entwined in each other’s arms, unmoving for the moment as they recovered their breath.

Jenny, blouse gone by now, started to crawl onto the table, accompanied by her naked minx. They homed in on the prone dancers. Len had risen to his feet and moved to get a better look at events.

I had also risen, though not to my feet! Mary stood and started walking towards the door, crooking a finger at me over her shoulder in a come-hither gesture. I got up to follow, though having previously risen, I followed slightly awkwardly.

We left Jenny, Samantha and Len to look after the two trainee ballet dancers. I was sure they’d manage! But that was them, for me, getting reacquainted with Lady Mary was the next item on the agenda.

Mary and I adjourned to the study where we’d drunk our cocktails earlier. We settled on a convenient and comfortable couch, where I was reintroduced to the various parts of Lady Mary and got to know them all over again. I said hello again to this bit and to those bits and especially to that bit there! Lady Mary possessed some very nice bits. They all seemed pleased to see me, and were very welcoming, indicating how very good it was that I could come. Well, I could, and in due course I did, all over them. A bit later, I did it all over again. All over this bit and that bit, but especially over those bits!

My Hero

The next morning Samantha went off to visit her cousin, Amy, who lived in Newton Abbot. Len had offered to drive her and I had no doubt that he would enjoy his visit. Amy is from the same mould as Samantha, though she talks less and is a brunette, but they look quite similar. She also shares other attributes with her cousin, such as a dedication to getting fucked as often as possible!

I’d met Amy before, at a fair held at The Lotus Flower, and I’d enjoyed our meeting very much indeed! I’d enjoyed Amy! As a consequence, I had earlier offered to drive Samantha there myself, but Jenny had vetoed the idea. Not because I had a mind to have another session with Amy, Jenny wouldn’t have minded that at all, she had also enjoyed Amy! No, what Jenny needed today was a Sherpa, and I was to be it, because she wanted to go shopping in Exeter.

Jenny and I were trawling through shop after shop after shop. My role was bag carrier in chief, also head hanger around waiting, and supreme commander of the reassuring comment, along the lines of “If you like it, then I’m sure it will suit you perfectly”. I was trying, with only limited success, not to wince too visibly at some of the price tags. She bought blouses, tops, skirts, sensible underwear, tights and stockings in a mind boggling profusion. I was very much afraid that we’d be moving on to shoes shortly!

She could have done all this nearer home, but we’d already decided to stay a few more days in Deeping, and Jenny had only packed for a weekend. Besides, her view was that her wardrobe could always do with topping up.

I don’t think I’ll ever get my head around quite how many different outfits a woman needs in her wardrobe. I’m a man and as such I wear pretty much the same thing every day. I need enough clothes to keep ahead of the laundry schedule and that’s about it. Truth be told, I don’t much like new clothes, I prefer them when they’ve been worn in a bit. It’s only Jenny’s ruthless disposal of some of my favourite articles of clothing, usually while I’m out, that ever drives me to buy anything new.

Girls is different, I always say, and generally speaking I’m very glad of it. But not all the time.

Among their many outstanding qualities, and I must say that I have a particular fondness for the parts of them that stand out, women, and I know this is a stereotype, do have this inbuilt affinity with shopping. Apart from the fiscal side effects, I don’t really have an objection to this urge to buy. However, where I do take issue, is when I’m co-opted and forced to join the expedition. I was bored.

I was already laden with carrier bags and boxes, when Jenny led me down an alleyway sandwiched between a pub, which I looked at wistfully as I was hauled past its door, and a shop selling knitting supplies, which exercised far less of a gravitational pull on me than the pub had.

The alleyway was surprisingly clean, lined with obviously locked back doors to some of the High Street shops. Halfway down the alley, we came to a doorway, newly painted in red and black. There were windows either side of the door, but they had velvet curtains drawn across them. I couldn’t see any signs to indicate what sort of place this might be, but it was clear that this was our destination. Jenny dropped anchor in front of the door, leaned forward and pressed a bell. A few seconds later, there was a buzz and the door opened. We walked through it.

I brightened up when I saw the inside and the goods that were on sale. This was clothing, if you could call it that, for the lady connoisseur! There were lacy scraps of almost nothingness, things made exclusively from straps and buckles, corsets, bustiers, crotchless panties, peep-hole bras, you name it, they’d got it here. A whole section was devoted to leather, another to latex. There were all sorts of things I’d love to see draped on Jenny, or indeed on several other girls of my acquaintance, if only so that I could assist in their removal.

There were three other women in the shop when we arrived, all lookers! I figured two were shop assistants, as they were wearing some of the outfits on sale and would have been arrested if they’d walked down a public street wearing what they almost were now! The third was a sensibly dressed blonde, who was currently examining a latex nurse’s uniform. I decided immediately that it would suit her very well indeed. Jenny looked over at me, she could tell I was getting excited.

“Perhaps you should wait for me in the back room. That’s the men’s waiting area. Get yourself a cup of coffee.”

“Really? You don’t want me to help you choose something?”

“No, I don’t, thank you. I want to surprise you later.”

“Can’t I hang around and see if that blonde tries on that nurse’s uniform?”

“I see your point, I’d like to see that as well, but no you can’t. This is a discreet establishment and men wait in the back room.”

“Oh, all right, if I must.”

“You must!”

I slumped off disappointedly, toting my collection of carrier bags and boxes. I went through the indicated door. There was a coffee pot standing in the corner, comfortable looking armchairs and an array of coffee table books and magazines. I poured myself a cup and sat down, picking up a slim book with a plain cover. Well, the cover might not be very interesting, but inside were glossy pictures which most certainly were. It took me some time to work out exactly what I was looking at in the first picture, it was in very, very close-up! I figured I could keep myself entertained if this sort of reading material was available.

It was probably half an hour later when I heard strange noises from the shop. Shouting! Men’s voices shouting! I moved to the door and pressed my ear against it. I listened.

“On the floor, you whores! Get on the floor now!”

This did not sound good! I looked around the room, keeping my ear against the door. There was another door to the room, leading who knew where.

“You are an offence to the eyes of Allah! Whores! On the floor, all of you!”

Still looking about the room, I searched in vain for anything resembling a weapon. There’s never a machine gun lying around just when you need one, not that I’d know what to do with a machine gun, but it would have been reassuring. There didn’t even appear to be a knife. I couldn’t see me being able to do much armed with a teaspoon! Frankly, I couldn’t see me being able to do much full stop.

“You! Take those disgusting clothes off! The rest of you stay where you are! Yes, you! When you meet Allah, he shall see you as he intended!”

Somebody screamed, it wasn’t Jenny, for which I was grateful. Correction, it wasn’t Jenny, yet!

“Leave her alone, you animal!”

That was Jenny! Please shut up Jenny, don’t provoke him. I’m trying to think of something. But what? I haven’t even got my phone with me, I can’t even call the police.

“Silence, bitch! You shall strip next! Naked! Then I shall show you how a true son of Islam treats a bitch whore like you! Your whore friends can watch as I fuck your whore cunt! Watch as I fuck your whore arse! Before I send your whore body to Allah!”

Sweet Jesus! What was I going to do?

“Right, naked is how Allah made you, and naked you shall go to meet him! Stand up, hands against the wall! Feet apart! That’s right! Stay there! Now you! Strip! Remove those whore garments! Now!”

I’d heard enough. I crept quietly to the other door and went through. An office. TV monitors. The interior of the shop was on screen. Black and white and grainy, but I could see what was happening now. Two men! Jesus, one had a small machine gun! The other a pistol! Jenny and one of the shop assistants were standing, hands against the wall. Both naked. The man with the pistol had a hand between the shop assistant’s legs. The other assistant was lying on the floor. The blonde I’d been looking at was kneeling and struggling out of her clothes.

A telephone, I needed a telephone, where the fuck is the phone? There! I grabbed the receiver and held it to my ear. Silence! I pressed 999 on the keypad. Nothing! Fuck! They must have cut the cable! What the fuck could I do? Should I try to escape, leave the women and run for the police? Could I leave the women? Could I leave Jenny? Anything could happen at any moment! It sounded as if the men planned to rape and kill the women! How long before one of them died? Did I dare leave them while I looked for the police? Fuck! Fuck! No! I couldn’t abandon them! Couldn’t abandon Jenny!

I searched desperately for a weapon. Nothing. I pulled open all the drawers of the desk, rifling through them for something I could use. Anything! Nothing! I looked at the screen again. The blonde was nearly naked now, just her underwear left. She was reaching for the catch on her bra. The man with the pistol had moved his hand from between the assistant’s legs and was groping Jenny’s tits with it instead. Machine gun man was watching the blonde closely.

There was another door to the office. I opened it and found a small kitchen. There was a window. I looked through it to see the alleyway we’d come down earlier, in what now seemed a different lifetime. I could climb through the window and run for the police. But no! I’d already decided I couldn’t abandon Jenny. Or the other girls. Fuck! I was no James Bond! No super hero! I hadn’t had a fight since the school playground! What the fuck was I going to do against a pistol and a fucking machine gun?

Something! I had to do something! I searched the kitchen drawers. A steak hammer! Maybe. A knife, three inch blade. I ran my finger down the edge gingerly. Sharp! OK, I had a weapon. A sharp kitchen knife, small but it would have to do. All they had were a bloody pistol and a sodding machine gun! And could I stab anyone with a knife anyway? What else could I do? They weren’t going to feel threatened if I just waved the knife at them, not armed as they were. They’d laugh then shoot me! Then they could do what they wanted with the girls and nobody would be there to help them!

My insides were churning. My throat was dry. My whole body was trembling. I forced myself to calm down and drank a glass of water. Panic wouldn’t help me, or help the girls. I had to keep a cool head! I drank another glass of water. Sweet Jesus, I was panicking! I picked up the knife and returned to the office. I looked at the screen. The blonde was naked now. Hands against the wall alongside Jenny and the assistant. Another situation and I’d be creaming my shorts at the sight of the three lovely girls lined up with their arses towards me like that. But their arses weren’t lined up towards me! They were lined up towards the bastard with the pistol, lined up towards the other bastard with a fucking machine gun!

Machine gun man was gesturing toward the second assistant, evidently telling her to strip. Once she was naked, all the girls were. Then it seemed at least one of the men was planning to rape them! Probably the other one as well! Would they do it together? Or would they leave one on watch while the other one assaulted the girls? If they both went at it together, that could be my chance! Could I let it go that far? Watch them rape one of the girls while I waited? Watch them rape Jenny while I waited my chance? What else could I do?

The second assistant was naked now. She hadn’t had a lot of clothes to take off in the first place. She was being directed towards the other three girls against the wall. Pistol man was loosening his belt with his free hand. Soon now, it was going to start soon! The other man had put his machine gun down on a shelf and was starting to work at the front of his own trousers. How long could I wait?

Both men had their dicks out now. The second assistant was against the wall. All four girls in a line. Still holding his gun, pistol man moved behind the blonde. His cock was rubbing up and down her bum crack for now, but soon it would move lower and the rape would start. Machine gun man had picked up his gun and stood back, watching as his accomplice groped and rubbed at the blonde girl. He held the machine gun in his right hand while he stroked his dick with his left.

I couldn’t let this happen! I couldn’t wait any longer! I was going to have to do something! Anything! I was going to die! I knew I was going to die! But what else could I do? I’ve told Jenny before that I’d die for her, but I never expected it to actually happen! Fuck!

Still holding my knife, I went back into the waiting room and pressed my ear to the door.

“You’ve got to stop him!” Jenny’s voice, loud and strident.

“Silence whore! You’re next!”

“I’ll rip your fucking cock off first!”

I knew she meant it, if only I could believe she could do it! I took a last look around. Possibly my last look at anything! Death waited for me through the door. Coffee! A desperate thought. I grabbed the glass coffee pot by the handle. Holding my knife in my left hand, coffee pot in my right, I used the left to turn the door handle as quietly as I could, listening for any sound to indicate the movement had been spotted. Everything seemed quiet.

“Bend over further, whore! I’m going to fuck your whore arse!”

That was the man who’d been threatening Jenny. I pushed the door open so I could see through the crack. Machine gun man was a couple of yards behind Jenny, pointing his gun at her.

“Bend over, I said!”

Jenny remained where she was. There was a metallic sound as he cocked the machine gun, or whatever it is you do with them. I swallowed as best I could, my mouth was so dry! It had to be now! My legs were frozen in place, yet still felt like jelly! I was shaking with fear! I had to snap out of it! I had to act! Now! It was time to die!

I coaxed my right foot forward half a step. Do I creep towards the man or run? I should have decided this earlier. Too late for second thoughts now! He was about fifteen feet from me. He hadn’t seen me yet. His attention was on Jenny’s naked body in front of him. He was sideways on to me, peering intently at Jenny’s arse. His ally was pounding against the blonde’s bum. He wasn’t going to notice anything for a while. It was machine gun man I had to deal with first! God I was scared! I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this! Surely I’d wake up soon!

Three quick strides and I was within reach of him. He sensed my presence and started to turn, the machine gun swinging my way as he span towards me. I swung the coffee pot in a wide arc and slammed it into his face! The glass shattered, probably cutting him, but I couldn’t see any blood because his face was covered in scalding coffee! He screamed! The machine gun fired! A dozen or so bullets ploughed into the floor! The noise was deafening in the enclosed space of the shop! Then he’d dropped the gun as both his hands went up to his tortured face.

I swear I heard the wind as the bullet passed my ear! This was before I heard the sound of the shot! There was a third man! Of course there was a fucking third man! Just because you think Allah is going to hand you a bevy of bloody virgins for your barbarous work, doesn’t mean you have to be completely fucking stupid! Not like me! Stupid! Fucking, fucking stupid! Why did I think I knew everything from looking at one crappy camera shot? Of course there was a fucking man on lookout! I was dead now, no doubt about it!

I never did find out if I could stick a knife into a man. At the sound of that shot, my only remaining weapon dropped from my nerveless fingers.

I dived sideways! It was a reflex action, if I had managed to think, I’d have been rooted to the spot! I rolled as I landed. Pure luck carried me into the legs of the man attempting to rape the blonde. My rolling body sent him sprawling, his pistol flying from his grasp. Still acting on autopilot, I rolled to my right and grabbed the gun as it skittered across the floor. Another bullet skipped off the floor and thudded into the wall behind me!

Fucking dead for sure! The third man, the one I hadn’t expected or even bloody thought of, was charging towards me now! How do you fire these fucking things? There must be a safety catch or something, but I had no time to look for it. The man I’d sent sprawling, the putative rapist, swung his fist at me. I managed to sway my head back and avoid the blow, then I swung the pistol as hard as I could and clubbed him round the ear with the barrel! There was a satisfying ‘thock’ sound. Blood spurted from his ear, his eyes rolled up and he collapsed back to the ground.

Another shot sounded, loud! No idea where it went. Why wasn’t I dead yet? I rolled left this time. In mid roll, I caught sight of the third man. He was skidding across the floor, a combination of broken glass, spilled coffee and blood must have caused him to slip. I must have a guardian angel, or perhaps it was Allah helping, righteously pissed off at what was being attempted in His name! The man careered across the floor, arms windmilling, wildly out of control, and thudded up against the wall.

Now was my chance to shoot the fucker! While he was winded and trying to regain his bearings. Only problem was that I had no bloody idea how to do it! I didn’t know how to fire the fucking gun! His own pistol started to swing in my direction. It was now or never. Do or die! My subconscious knew which the bookies were laying odds on there! But I had no time to think. I surged to my feet, put my head down and ran!

I hope you didn’t think I was running away there? No, blind panic, sheer stupidity, and love for Jenny wouldn’t let me do that! I kept my head down and ran at the lookout man, like a bull in a, well, in a sort of lingerie shop! My head struck him square in the stomach! The air exploded out of him with a whoosh! Groggily I managed to stand upright. I looked at the useless pistol in my hand, then shrugged. For the second time in a minute, I used it as a club!

What about machine gun man? Scalded, but not down last I saw. I looked at him now. He was still upright, hands still covering his face, but he’d stopped screaming. His head was shaking from side to side as he tried to regain control of himself. I kicked him between the legs, as hard as I could! It hurt my foot, but judging from the mewling sound he made, it hurt him more! He collapsed to the ground. I picked up his machine gun. Having no clue as to how to use it, I hurled it into the corner of the room. It landed butt first and a stream of bullets stitched a line across the ceiling! Whoops!

But hey! I could think whoops! I was alive! The women were alive! We’d all survived!

Then Jenny’s arms were around me! Tears of relief were running down her cheeks. I wasn’t exactly dry eyed myself! If I thought I was shaking earlier, it was nothing to the trembling the relief of tension caused! The adrenaline was still coursing through my system.

Machine gun man was curled into a foetal ball, groaning. The lookout man appeared to be out for the count. The attempted rapist was on his back, moaning quietly. By now the blonde had pushed herself off the wall and walked over to him. If he’d opened his eyes, he’d have had a view right up her pussy! The view would have been improved when she raised her right knee high in the air! The downside to this vision would have come a moment later, when her foot came down, her heel smashing into the man’s crotch with all the force she could muster! He most certainly deserved it, but my own eyes closed briefly in fellow feeling. That would have hurt even more than the kick I gave his chum!

One of the assistants had moved behind the cash register and grabbed a mobile phone. She dialled 999 and breathlessly reported on what had happened. The girls just had time to throw some clothes on before the door burst open and suddenly the room was full of big men. Blue uniforms and plain clothes. Most of them armed with a variety of guns.

Then it was all up against the wall again, four girls, partly dressed this time, with me as an extra on the end of the line. The police searched us all. I had a suspicion that they were taking their time about searching the girls, but I could see their point. I was less understanding when a large male hand started rooting around in my crotch!

The girls were declared clean and released from their positions against the wall. They gathered together around the cash register. Police officers were peering at the merchandise and making jokes to each other as particular items caught their eye. Paramedics arrived and the three intruders were loaded onto trolleys and taken out under armed guard.

I was arrested!

As I was led out of the shop in handcuffs, a burly policeman holding onto each of my arms, I noticed an old man, all white hair and beard. He looked a bit like the hitchhiker I’d seen on our journey down to Devon, but he showed no signs of recognition, he just gazed at me with a thoughtful expression. I had bigger problems on my plate, I forgot about him as I was bundled into the back seat of a police car.

* * *

Jenny and the blonde insisted on accompanying me to the police station. The police refused to take them. They demanded to know which police station I was being taken to. They called a taxi.

Belt, shoelaces and possessions had all been taken from me before I was chucked into a cell. I looked at the solid walls and barred window. I was safe! Who cared if I’d been arrested, at least I hadn’t been shot! I was alive! I lay down and went to sleep. It must have been shock, I went out like a light.

It took a while to get out of the police station, about six hours. I was surlier than I might have been under questioning. Heroes in film are never arrested like that and I resented my treatment.

Eventually, with the assistance of Jenny and the blonde, who turned out to be called Arabella, and the duty solicitor, plus saying that I was staying at Deeping Castle, whose owner, Sir Leonard, was a local magistrate and who vouched for me over the phone, I wormed my way out of the police station. But with a warning not to leave Deeping Castle until the police had decided whether or not to press charges against me. I managed to stifle my outraged protest at this, but only just! My possessions were returned and I left, accompanied by Jenny and Arabella.

It was early evening already, and we walked straight into the first pub we came across. I quickly got outside four pints of best bitter. The girls drank vodka tonics. We were all still a bit in shock. Things could have gone horribly wrong in that shop. We were all sure the men had intended to kill the girls after they’d raped them. The men hadn’t covered their faces, the girls would have been able to identify them, but only if they were still alive! When we reached this sobering conclusion we all shuddered in unison and ordered another round.

Unlike the police, the girls were full of praise for my bravery in rescuing them. I basked in the glory of their approbation, saying it was nothing, trying to imply that I did this sort of thing every day, and that bravery came naturally to me. Jenny knew better, as did Arabella for that matter, but they humoured me as a sign of their appreciation.

Arabella had gone home in a cab, saying she’d meet us tomorrow when we came back to collect our car, which we had sensibly decided not to drive in our current state. We considered getting a hotel for the night, but the police had told me I had to stay in Deeping Castle. I didn’t want to get arrested again, nor did I want to make trouble for Len. We called a cab to take us back to Deeping. A hotel would have been a lot cheaper!

A Hero’s Welcome

It was quite late in the evening when we climbed out of the cab at Deeping Castle. After relinquishing a month’s wages to pay the cab fare, I followed Jenny through the outer courtyard and into the castle. We were greeted by a ragged cheer as we came into the main hallway. Len and Mary, along with Samantha and her cousin, Amy, were all standing and clapping their hands together. If ticker tape had still existed, they’d have been bunging it at me. I was half surprised not to see a brass band!


Continue reading this ebook at Smashwords.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-29 show above.)