The Telemachus Story Archive

Sir Tristran Auberge
Part 2 - The Ball Room In The Palace
By Kyle Cicero

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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 2. The Ball Room In The Palace

For the next few weeks a routine developed between Tristan and his beefy guards. At set intervals they would grab him, re-secure Tristan in his overhead bindings, and then “milk” him using the same methods they had originally employed. At first Tristan had energetically fought them to prevent both his bondage and then their efforts to drain his seed. He told himself he would not repeat his prior conduct. Slowly Tristan became demoralized by his failures. After a time, he stopped his unsuccessful efforts to fight them off, knowing his resistance only made the spankings harder and that the pain from it would trigger his need to ejaculate for them.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to cooperate,” the good-looking guard who has first masturbated him so long ago said as he took Tristan’s dick in his hand. Tristan learned his name was Hathor, and that he only a few years older than Tristan. Whenever this guard manually stimulated him, this young knight found that his ejaculations were more intense. In fact, Tristan found himself happier when Hathor was taking him in his firm grip for his “milkings”. It was something the guards noticed as well for soon Hathor was the only one who engaged in this activity while the other concerned himself with delivering the rear-end blows to Tristan’s rump area. Tristan still burned with the shame over what was happening, but somewhere deep now in his mind a part of him accepted he took sexual pleasure in both the anal assaults and, more critically, the intoxicating hand manipulations Hathor performed on his cock. Afterwards he would be fed and permitted to bathe. His long “foreign style” of haircut was corrected to reflect the Saracen’s shorter look in hair length.

“Oh sweet Lord, I’m going to cum, Hathor,” he sighed out one day as he vigorously humped his cock inside the calloused hand of the guard. He groaned in pleasure as he shot another spurt of his seed into the now familiar silver bowl.

“You wish to cum again, Templar?” the guard asked seeing the young knight’s still respectable erection.

Tristan nodded weakly. “Yes please Hathor, if you will do it,” he murmured in reply by now surrendering to the sensuality of this activity. To his surprise, the guards took him down from his bindings.

“Come with us,” they said to him as they left the room. Tristan stood for a second then slowly followed them unsure of what was going on but wanting any reason to leave the place he was being held and where he shamed his honor. They quietly walked through numerous dark corridors into a great vast room. While Tristan gazed around the brightly lit room, the guards went over to a chest on the floor and picked up items inside it then returned with them to Tristan.

“What is going on?” the young knight asked as he gazed at the leather items they were holding. He stared at Hathor quizzically. A part of his brain was telling him he should resist whatever was to happen next, but another was equally as insistent that he comply with Hathor’s actions. For some reason Tristan could not yet understand the sight of Hathor now filled him with strange yet not unpleasant sensations. Without realizing it, his cock slightly stiffened.

“It will go well,” a smiling Hathor said as he suddenly brought a small flask from his pocket. “Drink this, Templar.”

“What’s in this,” the knight asked. Suddenly the other guard behind him, grasped his arms and held him. Tristan clamped his lips tightly together.

“Drink it!” Hathor repeated as he brought the flash to Tristan’s closed mouth. He used one hand reach over and close off Tristan’s nostrils. After a minute the captive knight was forced to open his mouth to breathe in air. When he did, Hathor rapidly poured part of the flask’s contents down the struggling warrior’s throat. The liquid burned as a portion of it went into him. After a few seconds the brave young knight experienced a slight sensation of wooziness followed by a general calmness that he was unable to shake off.

As the young handsome Templar’s struggled to clear his mind from the drugged haze, the guards quickly encased the captive fighter in a set of leather straps that cupped his arse before rising upward to cross his chest to finally end in a tight leather collar around his neck. They then placed a small bar between his legs and attached that device to his ankles. The men ended by securing wide bands of leather on each of the young fighter’s wrists.

“What are these for?” a lightheaded Tristan weakly asked as Hathor thrust a ball to his mouth.

“Open up,” Hathor said softly as he tried to push the object between Tristan’s full lips.

“I don’t want to be gagged,” Tristan protested clamping his teeth tightly together. “No…argh Lord, my nuts,” Tristan wheezed as the other guard grabbed his balls and squeezed, forcing the buff warrior’s mouth to open in pain. As it did Hathor quickly inserted the round object between the warrior’s lips and secured it around his head with another strap.

Quickly the men lowered an overhead bar and bound the young knight to it. They then cranked it upward until he was dangling just off the floor. Lastly, they took a leather belt from the chest and secured it so it wrapped around and covered the front of the captive’s crotch area. Through a small opening in the center of this belt they roughly pulled Tristan cock and balls out to fully expose them.

The other guard went to a large gong and rang it. Tristan heard shuffling behind him and tried to see. Soon he caught sight of a third man who was quickly followed by many others. The men took their places along the sides of the room. Tristan glared at Hathor in anger and shock. He was being exhibited before these men naked and trussed up in some obscene collection of straps. He grunted and gyrated in an effort to free himself but the bindings held him in place.  A mummer of amusement came from the men as they watched the strapping pale-skinned knight writhing naked before them. Tristan felt the full flush of his humiliation.

“Be prepared to be milked here, Tristan,” Hathor whispered to the gagged young warrior. “It is no use resisting as our leader requires this to be done before these warriors.”

Tristan’s eyes bulged in horror. The shock of his situation quickly cleared away the drug-induced cobwebs. In muffled protests he tried to show his objections to this public degradation of his manhood. Yet, even as he did so, his rump felt the now familiar crack of a paddle on his bare arse. “Umph,” he groaned as his cheeks were subjected to the whacks from two guards in tandem. “Noth!” he screeched into his ball-gag as he tried to somehow prevent anything more strikes from happening even as he knew it was useless to fight it.

The sensual heat in his arse caused by the men’s activities raced to his balls. Hathor stepped in close and took Tristan’s cock into his hands. The now familiar sensation of his calluses on the fighter’s soft under-shaft caused Tristan’s dick to rise. “Noth pleasth,” Tristan weakly sighed through his gag as the now recognizable sensuality of Hathor’s masturbation techniques flared in his loins.

“Close your eyes and just go with the sensations, Templar,” Hathor replied encouragingly as he carefully massaged the growing erection of the well-built blonde fighter. “Forget everything else.” Slowly he began to massage the young captive’s cock.

Tristan could feel his arousal building as it now did whenever he was spanked. “Noth,” his fighter’s spirit screamed as he wiggled in his bounds. Once again, however, his activities only aided Hathor’s manipulations on Tristan’s rapidly engorging cock. The brave knight could hear noises emanating from the crowd. He could detect their derisive laughter as his rump was pounded while his cock obscenely waved out from his torso. “Sweet Lord,” he moaned to himself as he contemplated this latest degradation. I will not disgrace my knighthood by spilling my seed for them, he commanded himself even as waves of arousal coursed through his body.

The crowd’s noises grew louder as some yelled out mocking insults questioning the young knight’s manhood. Waves of humiliation swept over him even as other waves of that now all too recognizable sensual fire flowed along with it.

Soon the intoxicating warmth of his physical abuse grew to intolerable level. His muscled dangling torso began to slightly sway. He wanted to stay still, but each blow on his now blazing butt swung him forward into the hard expertly moving grip that Hathor had upon his fully erect cock. The rubbing of Hathor’s coarse palm on his shaft filled him with arousal. “Mother of Mercy,” he gurgled through his gag as he unwillingly found himself pressing into Hathor’s firm grip to stimulate himself even more.

From their time in the cell, the Saracen guard knew his prisoner was now losing his internal battle and was slowly approaching a sexual orgasm. He just needed that final push over the edge. “Close your eyes and just go with the sensations, my fair haired knight,” Hathor seductively cooed into Tristan’s ear as he increased his masturbation of the warrior’s rod. His palm stroked making sure to employ the techniques that had methodically broken Tristan in his cell. He knew precisely what steps were called for to cause the Templar to erupt.

“Oh please,” Tristan prayed. He felt disgusted by the disgrace of spilling his seed yet slowly he found he needed to yield to the twin assaults on his body. By now his young brain firmly associated his own sexual arousal with being beaten and the growing sensuality of the activities pushed out any other considerations in his mind. Hathor’s firm grip stroked him, and one last set of paddles slaps on his rump finally cracked his resolve. He gazed at Hathor’s face.

“Do it for me,” the guard whispered. “Close your eyes and see only me. Do it thinking only of me.”

Tristan nodded and let out a loud muffled groan. He squeezed his eyes shut concentrating on Hathor’s smiling face, the warmth in his loins, and the expert hand manipulations of Hathor’s hand on his now fully engorged cock. The crowd noticed the change in the strapping fighter’s actions. They could see his hips move slightly forward and back. He was clearly humping himself into the guard’s hand.

Hathor reached up to gently touch Tristan’s cheek with his other free hand. “Do it my pet,” he whispered to Tristan. He signaled his fellow guards to pick up the pace of their actions in tandem with his own quickening strokes on the now lowly groaning captive’s rod.

The room grew quiet as the trio of guards did their work on the muscular torso of the strung up knight. The only sounds were the cracks of the paddles on Tristan’s rear-end coupled with the deep breathing and lewd grunts of the knight. Everyone knew it was now only a question of time.

For a brief second Tristan’s brain cried out to him one last time to fight and not succumb to the erotic sensations he was experiencing, but then with a loud but muffled moan of “oh”, Tristan’s eyes popped open as blew his wad!

A roar of delight from the assembled men filled Tristan’s ears. The handsome young warrior stared down to the floor to see his spent jism lying in a puddle in front of him. He glanced at Hathor then turned his head to take in the gleeful crowd that had seen this display. His degradation, once so privately confined to his cell and the two guards, was now public knowledge. Something in him cracked apart. He suddenly saw Hathor smiling at him.

“My good pet,” Hathor said as he stroked Tristan’’s cheek.

The touch of his hand caused a warm sensation to flow throughout Tristan’s body. I’ve pleased him, he thought and that idea gave him even more pleasure. For the next half hour Tristan was spanked and “milked” as the hoots of the crowd filled his ears. He no longer fought he closed his eyes and just let his body react to the stimuli it received from Hathor. His only desire now was to make Hathor smile again.

He lost track of time, and only opened his eyes again as he was being lowered to the floor. He looked around and saw his audience leaving the room. He was thankful his ordeal was over, but he heard Hathor’s voice saying, “You did well. Only the auction now to endure.” The… auction?He thought to himself, as he closed his eyes and passed out from exhaustion.

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