The Telemachus Story Archive

Sir Tristran Auberge
Part 1 - We Begin
By Kyle Cicero

Sir Tristan Auberge: A Templar tale

By Kyle Cicero

Another rather longer tale ‘from the vaults’ of stories that have not yet appeared on the Net.

Part 1. We Begin

Sir Tristan Auberge was perhaps the greatest knight in the entire Templar order. No other warrior fought with such skill and vigor. The proud twenty-four-year-old young man was descended from a noble lineage. It showed in the posed and dignified way he carried his well formed, six-foot three, muscular frame. His long, dark, curly  hair set off his handsome aristocratic features. Many ladies in the court were known to blush when he fixed his sea-green gaze upon them.

Like the valiant knight he was, Sir Tristan was a paragon of knightly virtue around them. The heroic fighter was always chaste in his encounters with the fairer sex. He had, since his early years as a squire, sworn to be solely dedicated to the war against the invaders of their kingdom. In fact, the young man was a virgin, having made his vows of chastity even before he hit puberty. Until the enemy was defeated, he would calmly explain to the women who sought to bed him, he would undertake no physical pleasures.

As a fighter on the field he had no peer. So great was his repute of victory in every fight that, when was he not only unhorsed by in battle by a smaller fighter but also taken captive by the man, the shockwaves of this event were felt throughout the land. Little did the people or sir Tristan realize that this was to be only the first of future traumatic events!

A Knight’s Plight

A naked Sir Tristan awoke naked in a dank cell. He realized he had been hoisted up and bound by his wrists in rope bindings secured to the ceiling of his cell. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs in his brain. Suddenly, it all came back to him. He had been unhorsed in battle and then struck unconscious by his opponent as he tried to rise in his heavy armor. From his condition he assumed he must be a captive of his enemies. The shock of having been bested in combat threw him. He was, however, determined to escape and thus salvage at least part of his honor. For the next half hour, his muscled body strained to somehow free itself only to find that the ties held fast.

Suddenly, a door opened, and two muscular guards in loincloths appeared in the entryway. Both men were massive in their build yet were different. One was clearly a small, dull, ugly brute who had a large gut, which showed the effects of too much lazy non-active time spent merely serving in the prisons, while the other was chiseled and defined. Tristan could not help but be impressed by this man’s dark good looks and well-sculpted form. He appeared taller than Tristan as well and carried himself with an air of authority and confidence like other victorious fighters the knight had known. Here, he thought, was a man who knew battle.

“Templar dog, our master is a great alchemist and warrior. Today he is mixing a formula to defeat your hordes. He requires your seed to finish his potion. You will give it to us,” the beefy ugly man growled at the brave buffed knight as he entered in the room with his fellow Saracen guard.

“Your master is a sick deviant who will never secure it from me,” Tristan grunted as he writhed in the taut ropes that had him dangling before them. Sweat formed on his torso from his exertions causing his well-built form to glisten in beads of perspiration. “Go to him and tell him I am vowed to chastity and will never spurt my manhood to satisfy his obscene tastes like some whore!” he shouted as he spun helplessly in his bondage.

“We have ways to secure it,” chuckled the cruel guard as he signaled to his handsome friend. Quickly the two men produced thin leather straps from their belts. They strode up to Tristan.  One of them took the fair-haired knight’s manhood into the hard grip of his calloused palm.

“Unhand me, you Saracen pig,” Tristan roared as his tried to use his legs to push the man away only to gasp from the pain when the paunchy guard stepped back and roughly yanked Tristan’s genitals downward. “Sweet Jesu,” the strapping fighter wheezed as he gulped in air. He closed his eyes until the pain passed. When he opened his eyes once more, he discovered that while he was awash in that pain the two men had rapidly wrapped his cock and balls with thin leather strips done up in a devilish set of loops. One laced around his pouch, tightly securing his nuts while separating each from the other. Another strap was wrapped around the base of his rod causing his cock to lewdly extend outward from his body. “What is this?” he angrily yelled as he took in the sight of his trussed up crotch.

“A method to help secure what we came for, Templar,” the same guard mockingly said.

The shocked Knight glared at the fiends. “I will never surrender my seed!” he snarled in defiance as a dull yet, not unpleasant aching, took hold of his genitals. Without realizing it, Tristan’s cock subtly began to rise within its halter.

The other guard standing in front of the young knight took notice and nodded to his friend. A sharp whooshing sound came forth followed by a crack as the other guard struck Sir Tristan’s beefy bare butt with a paddle.


“Sweet Jesu!” the stunned knight roared as the skin on his round bubbled pale rump flared with the heat from the stinging blow. That one was soon followed by a series of harder slaps that had Tristan yelping in pain!






“Please,” he bawled as his rear blazed with a fiery pain that sent waves of heat from its bruised surface to his very nut-sack. “Oh my nuts,” Tristan groaned as his crotch tingled from the warmth that was flowing into it.

“Soon the heat from your arse will fill your balls, young knight,” the handsome Saracen replied. “After a while this heat in your pouch will flow to your Templar cock. It will increasingly become so arousing that you will explode.” Saying that, he nodded again to the other man who rained on the knight’s hind area a further series of blows that caused the bound captive to moan and grunt in agony.

“I will not spill my seed for you,” Sir Tristan gasped between each spanking as the fire from his arse poured into his sack. Then, just as the guard had stated, the heat spread into his rapidly engorging cock.

The two guards winked to each other. The handsome chivalrous flower of this kingdom’s knighthood was no match for their subtle Middle Eastern techniques. The blows came even faster now. As they did, the guard in front of Tristan watched the young buff Templar grimace and squirm in his bindings. To Tristan’s humiliation his body began to savor the heat from the blows. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else but soon, unconsciously thrust his arse backward to meet the paddle. By now his cock was erect and leaking.

The smirking guard brought a hand up and lightly took the captive warrior’s cock into his calloused grip. As Tristan moved the rough surface of the man’s hand stroked his dick’s soft sensitive under-shaft causing a shivering of erotic arousal to cascade in the good-looking young fighter. Tristan had never been touched like this before and, due to his vows, had never stimulated himself sexually. The effect of this not unpleasant experience startled him and shamed him all at the same time.

“I can’t spew my seed,” the hapless knight moaned as the churning in his nuts grew intolerable. The more he moved under the blows, the more he found he was literally masturbating himself in the ever more firming grip of the guard. I must not spill the essence of my manhood like I was no more than their bitch, he pleaded to his erotically overloaded brain cells. Then one last blow to his rump sent a blast of fire racing into his groin. His churning nuts exploded as his spunk punched its way into his cock for release. He thrust his hips forward into the vise like grip of the guard and succumbed to it. The tight binding squeezing his cock’s shaft caused him some pain as his spunk pushed through it but that sensation only intensified the pleasure of his orgasm

“OH SWEET JESU!”he bellowed as his creamy knightly semen erupted from his erect manhood. “I’M CUMMING!” he exclaimed as the laughing guard brought a bowl to his cock head. The guard vigorously pumped the erect rod of the knight and proceeded to milk Tristan as if he was a simple barnyard cow! “AWWWEEEOOO!” Tristan cried as he spurted away into the silver receptacle. The pain in his arse combined with the irritation caused by tight straps squeezing his nuts and cock deepened his need to sperm.

As he finished, Tristan’s powerful body went limp in his bindings. He was awash in sweat and panting for air. He raised his eyes to the smirking guard yet could say nothing. Humiliated, he let his glance cast downward to the bowl in the man’s hands. To his shame, his spent seed glistened in the cell’s torchlights. He returned his teary gaze to the guard who merely nodded to his companion.

“Begin again,” he gruffly stated to his slovenly compatriot. “ He must be milked to dryness.”

Tristan gasped a weak almost inaudible protest then meekly groaned in surrender as the two men began the entire process over once more. He was shocked at how pain enhanced the thrill of his ejaculations. After an hour, he was spent and babbling nonsense and spurting dribbles. Only then did they cut him down to lie at their feet sobbing, broken, and cradling his drained and sore nut-sack in his two hands. “You drained me,” he muttered pitifully.

The guards briskly walked out laughing leaving a mind-fucked young Sir Tristan in a fetal position, his handsome face awash in tears. He had been truly unmanned by the crafty infidels. His self-image as an unyielding warrior had been cracked. He took some small solace that this degradation and shameful conduct had just these two men as witnesses. Little did he realize that this was just the beginning of his ordeal? Soon he would be the showcase of a more public display! As he lay there he reached back to rub his still sore arse. As he did, his cock stiffened.

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