The Squire

"Good. Now a little deeper, lad," his master told him.

The young man gulped. His eyes moistened with the effort and his throat twitched, unaccustomed to the pressure on the back of his tongue.

"Easy, lad," his master said. "Just a little more."

The young man's hands tightened on the edge of the shield where he was kneeling, holding himself in place. His breath came raggedly through his nose as he took his master's manhood deep in his mouth. The nut of flesh pressing against his gullet swelled. A tear ran down his cheek as he held firm.

His master sighed in satisfaction. "Good, it is done." He withdrew from the young man's mouth with a dull pop.

The young man's mouth was empty, left only with the taste of rough soap and a salty slipperiness.

"Now the last," his master said. He stepped around and knelt behind the young man, raising the tail of his smock. Warm, rough hands parted the cheeks of his rump. "Clean. Well done." A finger thick with grease rubbed at the center. "Once more, now." The older man cleared his throat. "Wilt thou serve as my squire, faithfully aiding me your knight master, till death or the word of myself or our Majesty the Queen release thee?"

The young man hesitated, his head swimming with fatigue after his all-night vigil in the chill of the ruined chapel. But the mention of the Queen revived him. "I will," he said firmly.

"Then receive my lance, accept it as I accept you, squire."

The tip of his master's rod prodded him between the cheeks. The young man lowered his head and breathed slowly as he had been taught. He tried to push back upon the blunt point, but nothing was gained.

"No, lad, hold still. Push out at me, bear down and push OUT," his master said. "There, there, like that."

"Ah-ahhh!" The young man's voice betrayed him as his master's lance pierced his body. His breath caught. The intense stretching and pushing filled the world of his senses. His master paused until the young man was breathing again.

"I salute you with my lance, squire," his master said. "Honor only the worthy with yours."

"Yes. My. My lord," the young man panted out his reply.

Their breaths replaced words. The older man breathed steadily. The young man's ragged gasps slowed and deepened until he matched the rhythm of his master's breaths.

"Yes. Good, lad, good. Did you ever receive another lad thus?"

"N-no my lord. My family was most noble, so I was always atop," the young man said. The unfamiliar fullness in his body was gradually losing its sense of discomfort.

"That lack is filled today," his master said. "When you covered your fellows, did you honor their shafts?"

"What, my lord?"

A warm, hard hand reached under the young man's belly and squeezed his shaft. "Like so."

"No, my lord," the young man said. "Ahhh."

"A gentleman does not fail to offer honor to the man he sheathes his lance within. If he is worthy to receive your shaft, his shaft is worthy of your honor, be he noble, common, or base."

"Yes, my lord." His shaft filled in the warm grip of the older man's hand. His master's hairs tickled the groove of his bottom. So big inside his bum, so warm. "Ah."

"Do not forget. Always honor, never abuse. Now attend. Stroke thus." The older man's hand gripped just below the crown. His strokes slid the skin up and down over the head.

"My lord. Ah."

"Now the next time you mount another fellow, what will you do?"

"Frig him!" The young man squeezed his eyes tight. "Ah. Why did you stop?"

"What will you do?"

"Honor his shaft. With my hand. My lord." His master resumed his hand strokes. The young man's breath hissed between his teeth. "As you honor mine. My lord. Ahh."

"Do not fail. Now recite."

His master's lance filled him, tight and intense. His master's hand stroked slowly on his own shaft. The fullness in his bowels became a good thing, a right thing.

"I swear. To serve you faithfully. As your squire. To care for your arms. And all you require. My lord."

The young man's shaft pulsed in the knight's hand, weeping slick tears.

The knight redoubled his thrusts and hand strokes.

"Yes, take me, my lord!"

The knight charged the other, "Let your seed be your seal. Let my seed be my seal."

"My lord!"

The squire's shaft leaped in his master's fist, spraying white laces across the fabric of his master's padded coat which lay atop the shield.

"Yes, lad, yes! Under Heaven and our Queen, I take you as my squire!" The knight moved both hands to the young man's buttocks and gripped tightly, thrusting toward his goal.

"My lord, my lord!" the young man called out. The pleasure in his master's thrusting turned towards pain as his climax ebbed.

"For the Queen!" the knight cried out, hammering at the young man's breech.

"Ah! The Queen!" the young man yelled.

The knight growled aloud. His lance swelled in the young man's body and spat hot seed within.

For a long moment they held in place, warm from the rite of Zeus and Ganymede which is the secret joust of knight and squire, deeply connected, trembling against one another. At length the knight withdrew and cleaned his soiled lance.

"Kneel, squire," the knight ordered. He stood before the youth and tapped each shoulder with his softening member. "You are accepted. Rise now."

The squire stumbled to his feet, and now the knight knelt before him.

"I accept the service of your lance for myself and our Queen," the knight said. "Spend once more to bless this day." He took the young man's penis in his own mouth, feeling it stiffen again. A tug at the squire's balls brought it to full hardness. The squire's hands fell gently upon his lord's head to steady himself as the knight sucked deeply. The knight pulled him closer, swallowing the tip of the squire's lance into his gullet. The squire's eyes rolled up toward the brightening sky showing through the damaged roof.

The new squire's cry echoed in the ruined chapel as he filled his lord's throat with seed. He swayed and crumpled to the ground, his legs failing with the fatigue he finally felt.

The knight covered the exhausted squire in his mantle and watched over him in the morning light as he slept. "And now we will serve our Lady together," he murmured. "For there is much to do."