The battle had left me utterly weary. For hours we’d fought the knights of the Lord GrizwaId, and only when I’d shattered the shield of that robber-baron’s champion, Sir Rizmond, piercing his heart, had the remnant of his marauders wheeled about and galloped off. After casting the slain into hastily dug graves and sharing a cup of victory, we of the Table Round had gone on our separate quests, knowing we’d not be waylaid by Grizwald’s knaves again. 

I was bound for the monastery of Grafton, and after a short night’s rest hoped to reach Camelot by noon of the following day. ’Twas many miles to Grafton, and the sun was already dipping toward the western hills, when I came upon the lake of Ffynnon Fach. A large wil1ow overhung the mere; I guided my white charger Snowheart to the water’s edge beneath the willow, so she might drink her fill. ’Twas then I noticed that we were not alone. 

The lady was sitting cross-legged on the ground beneath the willow, her back leaning against the trunk. Her red-gold hair was gathered up over her pretty face like a saint’s halo; her slim, pale shoulders were bare, as was her exquisite throat, the purple silk gown she wore barely concealing her apple-small breasts. Her hands were crossed in the hollow of her lap so that the long streamers attached to her sleeves billowed down on either side of her thighs. Her sandaled feet peeped out from under the stretched hem of her purple skirts. 

She was staring with enormous violet eyes across the ripple-less waters of the lake. “Tall knight,” she said, “dismount from your milk-white steed and sit beside me here, beneath the boughs of Mother Willow.” Her bell-like voice was a child’s, though it emanated from a woman’s body, however small. I did as she commanded: for it was a command, and one I readily obeyed… 

The joints of my armor clinked as I swung myself from the broad back of Snowheart. I was doubly glad, for repose was welcome, and ’twas naught but delight to be sitting beside such a beautiful creature. From her slight form I guessed that standing, she’d be less than five feet in height ... She turned and looked at me. Her pupils were dark pools of enchantment, and I knew instantly I loved her, and would till the day I died. Her elfin face filled my vision; her pink lips were slightly parted, allowing a glimpse of the pearls of her teeth and the wet jewel of her tongue. 

“Wilt thou love me?” she asked. 

“I will love you forever,” said I. 

“Yes,” she said. She twisted her body toward me, put her slender hand on my neck, and lifted her fair face up to mine. Suddenly we were kissing. The taste of her lips was apple-blossom honey: they parted wide; her tongue was a butterfly’s wing flitting back and forth inside my mouth. She began shortly to moan, and taking my trembling hand in hers, guided it to the orb of her left breast. Her nipple rose to my palm beneath the purple silk, her entire breast filling the cup of my hand. I pressed it delicately, then moved my hand downward until my fingers brushed its prominent point. She whined like a small, bewildered animal, her heart pulsing wildly beneath her breast. I lowered my mouth to her tender neck and drew my tongue down to the shallow vale ’twixt her tiny bosoms, as with a deft movement of her own hand she pulled the soft silk of her bodice down to reveal the sweet fruits of her nipples: twin rubies set in halos of amethyst. As my tongue curled around first one, then the other, she mewed with pleasure; her back arched, and she clung to me like a kitten. My hand reached down to her knee: she sat as I’d found her, knees wide apart, the hem of her skirts stretched tight across the secret well between. My hand slid down to her bare ankle and gently stroked her there. I felt her fiery nipple rise to a hard point under my tongue, and I slid my hand toward the inside of her thigh. 

On a sudden she froze, whispering, “Not here, my love. Take me to my grot in the woods: we can be there by nightfall – the moon attendeth our pleasure.” 

As in a dream, I stood and lifted her onto Snowheart’s broad back. I’d been right about her height: though a fully formed woman, she was hardly four and a half feet tall, and she was light as a leveret. I climbed into the saddle and settled her on the front of the saddle facing toward me, took the reins in my right hand, and wrapped my other round her waist. She nestled her honey-gold head in my shoulder; some strands had been displaced during our embrace and I now saw how long her locks truly were.

Snowheart moved off toward the wood. I was not guiding her: some power drew her on. The reins lay slack in my hand as the lady drooped against my chest like a rag-doll. At first I thought she’d fallen asleep from the steady rocking of the horse’s back, but I was in error, for I was suddenly ware of small noises coming from her throat. She was singing softly, panting ’twixt the notes like a distressed animal. Looking down, I discovered the source of her agitation. She had reached into the silken folds of her skirts with her slender hand, and was feeling herself between her legs! Her hand was moving down, up, down, up, and on each upstroke she made a low, catching noise in her throat: I knew that at these moments her fingers were passing right into her love-cleft, brushing her sticky clitoris and probing the soft folds that guarded it. I looked up again, and she was gazing at me with her lovely eyes, but they were glazed over now as some passionate pulse began to take her; her lips trembled, her soft tongue protruding from her mouth. She reached up and pulled the front of her bodice down, baring her exquisite breasts. She rubbed harder and harder now, her whole arm rising and falling as she stroked, pushed, stroked ... and her pants turned to wrenching gasps, and she was jolting against her clenched finger, till with a mighty shudder she came on her little hand, yelping as she attained the summit of her pleasure. 

Looking at me with wide eyes, her loins still shuddering from remembered ecstasy, she brought her hand from under her skirts and held it before me, her beaded cum glistering her fingers. I took her entire hand in my mouth, sucking the still warm juice from it. She reached down with her other hand and when she held it up, it too shone with the juice that still dripped ’twixt her legs. With an impish smile she smeared her tiny breasts with the musky fluid. I was bursting with arousal now, my armor-encased prick straining to he freed from its iron prison to possess the elfin beauty who sat so close to me. 

She was smiling now. “Another mile,” she said, “and we shall lie together in our nest of love.” As if sensing the closeness of the lady’s woodland home, Snowheart broke into a canter. It was now quite dark under the trees, a few last rays of evening sun lancing through the oaken boughs as we followed the sylvan path that wound deeper and deeper into the wood. At length I discerned a glimmering through the trees and as we neared it, I saw that it came from a light flickering wanly from a small window. Snowheart came to a halt in the green glade as night was about to fall: we’d arrived at last !  

Under a canopy of dark velvet the scattered stars were emerging, sparkling like gems in the twilight. Before us in the midst of the glade stood a tiny, single-roomed house with a low thatched roof: to the left of the window was a single door. I dismounted and she extended her arms toward me so I could lift her down, and I saw now that the skirts of her purple robe were soaked to darkness with her cum, so generously had she squirted in her self-induced passion. I clasped her tiny form to me and stooped to kiss her, but she looked up at me and said, ‘No — I cannot reach so high — best wait until we lie together, in there. She raised her hand, and without being touched, the door swung silently open. Quickly I tethered Snowheart to a nearby tree and turned back to the doorway. My love had disappeared! Alarmed, I stepped to the door and dipped my head to enter; ’twas not as I’d expected. This was no hovel, for I found myself in a vast room lit by a flaming chandelier. Embroidered tapestries hung from the walls, rich rugs adorned the floor. There was only one item of furniture: beneath the glittering chandelier stood an enormous bed hung with white drapes. Eerily, from somewhere beyond, a choir of ethereal voices was chanting softly. The door snapped shut behind me. 

From behind the drapes tinkled the silver bell of the lady’s voice. “Remove thy armor, my knight,” she said, “cast away iron, cast away mail, and with them all thy care.” Quickly I removed my sword, my mailed hood and shirt, my greaves, breast plate and cuisses. Last came the plated boots, and I stood on the rug before the bed, clad merely in hose and tunic. I shook out my long black hair and it tumbled over my shoulders, for too long had it been cased in my mailed hood. “Come now,” insisted my sweet-voiced lady, “turn in, to me.” Two paces brought me to the bed: I drew apart the drapes, and this is what I saw. In the very center of the great bed, upon its single white sheet, my lady was kneeling before me. No longer in the purple robe, she wore but a white, filmy shift - just long enough to conceal the lips of her cunt — and scarlet, lace-trimmed stockings that reached nigh the top of her satin-smooth thighs. Her back was arched: I could clearly discern her crimson nipple-buds straining against the flimsy bodice of her shift. Her slender white neck was bare, erect her elfin head with its enormous eyes, her smile sweeter than strawberries. But I was struck most by the sight of her lank hair, loose now, cascading down like liquid gold and spreading in a pool of fire on the bed all around her. Before her on the bed was set a bowl heaped with fruit; she bid me sit, reached into the bowl and held up a ripe fig dripping with its heady liquor and bringing it to her mouth, she wounded it with her white teeth. Pink juice oozed down her chin. She held its red fleshiness toward me and pushed it into wholly into my mouth. I was still swallowing when she brought up a strawberry, then a peach, and we shared them in like wise. Whether from the passion surging within me, or the potent liquor that flooded forth the fruit, I know not, but my brainpan was aswim! 

She spread her arms wide, inviting my embrace. Near fainting with passion, every pore of my body tingling with desire, I plunged toward her, scattering the wet fruit across the bed. Gathering me into her, she pulled my mouth to hers and we kissed wildly. Her hands clasped my head, while mine grasped her hips; she was squirming in the extremity of her desire. I tore at the neck of her shift with my teeth and ripped it savagely apart, exposing her heavenly breasts, and she moaned as my tongue closed first on one erect nipple, then the other, my lips sucking madly at their flaming tautness. She cried aloud and suddenly pushed me, with marvelous strength, onto my heels, and it was her turn to tear at my shirt, rending the linen away from my chest like paper and biting my nipples like a hungry wolf-cub. The pain was exquisite: I cried aloud ... then her hands were at my waist and in one fierce movement, she yanked down my hose ... The sight stilled her. My prick, normally of an unusual size, had swollen beyond its usual length, so full of passion was I. She drew back, making cooing sounds in her throat, extended a long fingernail and caressed my balls, then delicately drew it up the length of my prick from root to throbbing tip. 

An ungovernable spasm surged through my loins. I reached forward, and seizing her golden locks I pull her toward me; her glistening pink tongue slid out of her mouth, its tip twisting and quivering in anticipation. Then she was licking me, curling her tongue round the bulging head of my prick. Her spit dribbled down my rigid rod as if she were coming with her mouth; her slender hands closed upon it, and her mouth swept up and down, causing me to growl with desire. 

Then my lady did a thing of wonder: gathering up a strand of her hair from the bed beside her, she twisted it in her fingers so that the feathery ends formed a golden brush, which she did flick teasingly against my love-candle, blowing gently, causing the fine hairs to caress it like a fluttering moth ... The sensation overwhelmed me; I grasped her beneath her thin arms and lifted her toward me and she was instantly astride my ribs, my prick rising behind her delectable butt, her loins stretched apart, and for the first time I could see clearly the swollen lips of her love-cleft. There was but a wisp of auburn hair adorning the mound that rose above the glistering clit, that swelled visibly as if yearning for me to take it in my mouth. I pulled her closer, right to my face; she rested one hand on my shoulder, reached back with the other to grip my prick, and began working me vigorously up and down with her slender fingers ... my long tongue closed on her pussy-lips, sucking them entirely into my mouth. She purred, she moaned as I sought out her clit-bud, and it grew hard against my tongue. Then I slid it up her hot sheath, and she thrust herself upon my face, ever more urgently yanking my flaming shaft. Suddenly, with a squeal of pain, she fountained over my face, her sweet, sticky cum flooding mouth and hair. My loins were ready to explode also: as I thrust up my hips I felt my seed begin to surge up my tool, and she seemed to sense it, for nimble as a monkey, she pushed herself backward, bringing her swollen cunt directly over my burning end. She clawed her shining labia apart, and with her other hand she pulled me into her, thrusting down with all the force of her lissome body. She rose again, dropped down, reared up, and fell … and I came in a mighty flood inside her, her cunt-lips gripping me in a velvet vice. She continued to come too, her juices squirting down the sides of my thrusting prick, and we cried and moaned together as the passion broke over us.

Some time in the dark hours I awoke. The candles of the chandelier had been extinguished, but the room was still dimly lit by the silver-blue light of the moon streaming through the single window. She had fallen asleep with her head against my thighs: the velvet peach of her ass was still close to my face, for before I’d succumbed to sleep, I’d been licking the last remnants of love-juice dribbling from her pussy. She, likewise, had been sucking down the last, white oozings of my own cum, as she’d drifted into slumber. Spent I should have been from the love-making, as well as the late battle; yet the sight of her small, round butt, her slim waist, and the great fan of burnished hair spreading across the bed, awakened an itch at the root of my prick: yea, it stirred like a bear crawling out of its wintry slumber and scenting hidden honey close at hand. I put my broad hand on her ass and stroked its downy surface, caressing the crack ’twixt her cheeks and the back of her slender thighs, and my fingers traveled to the tops of the cum-stained stockings. I pushed my hand inside their crimson flimsiness, exploring her thigh and reaching down to her knee. She shifted in her sleep, easing her legs apart and I could now see her pink pussy-lips protruding onto the cool white sheet, inviting my fingers to touch, fondle, possess. I slid my finger to her exposed clit, small now, as if it too were slumbering; ’twas dry … I licked my finger and returned it to her cunt, stroking the little bud oh, so gently …  something moved in the quick of her being, for her thighs suddenly twitched, and she made the familiar catching sound in her throat.

The mound of her sweet ass rose, and her left leg stretched across the bed, revealing the scarlet gash above her clit, which began to swell anew, its moisture glinting like dew on its pink pyramid. I pushed my fingers into the soft cleft between the hanging lips and probed the growing wetness inside her. Though she murmured not, I knew she was fully awake now. Her arms were stretched wide, her splayed fingers clutched at the sheet, and a low moaning emanated from her throat. I pushed a second finger into her cunt, reaching inward and down, pressing the wall of her weeping vagina behind her now bloated clit, rubbing the little secret love-button inside her cunt-sheath. Suddenly her ass bucked and jolted and she began to push herself, quivering mightily onto my hand, and she cried, “Take me, sir knight, take me from behind – Now!”  

I rolled over, grabbing her by the hips and lifting her back toward my straining pinnacle. Her cleft split open like the fig we’d lately shared, the dripping lips hanging down ready to guide me into the furnace of her cunt. She reached  behind and grasped my prick, crying, “Fuck me, fuck me harder than man ever fucked a lady!” And she pulled me urgently to the red flesh of her cunt, and I slid remorselessly into her, inch by inch by inch, till I could feel her wet pussy-lips sucking at my swollen balls. I paused for a moment, enjoying the heat of her as I felt the muscles of her love-cleft clinging round my member; then suddenly I slid half out of her, secured my grip on her exquisite butt-cheeks, then pulled her back onto me with all my strength. She yelped as I pushed, pulled back, and thrust again. I wondered that she’d been able to take the full force of me: she was so small, I feared my flaming end must batter the walls of her heart! But she was equal to my size, as if a pink flower with only two petals had opened up inside her, sucking me into the mystery of her body. She began to shake like one with the falling-sickness, emitting a long, high wail as her cunt exploded round me, shooting an ocean of cum over my straining prick in a spasm so extreme that I was forced out of her, squirt upon squirt fountaining over my loins, my belly, my throbbing member, and darkening her stockings to a deep red. With a savage cry, she swung around, grabbed my prick and tugged it deftly into her mouth, pulling, withdrawing, then tugging the flaming head right to her throat, her hot tongue flickering wildly upon me. My buttocks gathered for a final thrust: she pulled her head back, freeing me from the grip of her sweet mouth, and we were both yanking on my rod, jerking and pulling, faster, faster, till my loins were a blur of madness; and I came as never before, spurt after spurt, into her wide-open mouth, over her face, her apple-breasts ... then her mouth was on mine as she mounted me, her swollen cunt swallowing my member to the hilt to extract the last drop of my scalding seed; and in the extremity of my passion, I fainted quite away.

My dreams were terrible, of pale ghosts and weeping kings that cried, “La belle Dame sans merci hath thee in thrall! Peace will no more visit thee, for thou shalt pine, and waste, and though thou waitest till Doomsday, she will not come to thee again: never, never, never, never, never …!” 

And I woke to gray light, and a cold morning. Fully armed I lay, my notched sword sheathed by my side, the weight of my armor holding me there on the white bed, and all my strength gone. I raised my head, seeing the circumambient drapes … I wondered where my lady might be, and how I came to be once more enarmed. I summoned the strength to roll across the bed, and felt myself falling through the white drapes to the floor of the room ... but when I looked, I found I was lying on the greensward sloping down to the lake where I’d met my love but yester-eve … I felt for the bedpost behind me, thinking to clamber back into the bed in hope my lady might return there; but my hand closed on wrinkled bark, and I was clinging to the trunk of the old willow tree against which she had sat mere hours before ... I pulled myself to sitting against the tree; it wasted all my strength. I looked for Snowheart, but she too had abandoned me. 

’Twas then that Truth stabbed me with his bitter blade. She who had so beguiled me, compelling me to copulation, had been not of this world! The ecstatic mood had fled me; I saw now that her diminutive size, the magically-appearing room, and her readiness to tempt me to taste of the sweet berry of her cunt, should have been warnings enough. Yet I’d allowed her to possess me: this crimson-nippled creature who had shown me paradise, and conveyed me to hell. How I wished I’d ridden on disregardingly to Camelot. 

I, Sir Bors, knight of the Table Round, will dwell no longer in the kindly company of Arthur Pendragon and his noble knights! I stir no more: for the lady has drawn my soul from me, and wafted it to a realm forever beyond my ken. With leprous cheek, frosted hair and wasted limbs, I remain here by the silent lake, its withered sedge my only companion, till I do give up the ghost, with never a bird’s song to carol me to my death. For I have fucked with faery, and my life is forfeit.