Trial 4 - A Knight's Quest (Patreon)

Trial 4 - A Knight’s Quest

“What foul horror lies ahead?” Sir Brian asked as he continued his sojourn to save the long forgotten Princess Amalia.

He’d read about it in ancient scrolls. (He was quite well educated for a knight... which earned him the scorn of his fellow, dumber colleagues.) And the more he read about how this beautiful princess had been locked up behind the greatest of terrors, with generations of knights being all bravado but no honor, he couldn’t help but feel his heart break at her plight. Wasn’t it a knight’s task to serve the weak, fight the most fearsome foe with eyes wide open, and if death come, then he shall have lived for glorious purpose?

No one else seemed to see it that way. The challenges were just too, too steep. The order of knights had become comfortable. Comfortable, fat, and lazy.

Disgusted by his fellow knights, Brian set out on his own glorious journey as true knights of olde would have done. There were no farewells for him. It was just as well. They wouldn’t understand.

It was day 30 of his journey now, according to his logs. (He was quite well educated for a knight!) The long, long journey had been... eventful, to say the least. He somehow came into possession of about six magical artifacts, all which beggared belief. They broke all laws of the universe as far as he could tell!

There had been a large, well woven burlap sack lying in a bush after a few hours journey on his first day. The stitching looked far better than his own, and when she grabbed it, it seemed far sturdier as well. Not to mention simply being better aesthetically. Being the good knight that he was, Brian looked around for its owner. Surely someone wouldn’t have intentionally discarded such a treasure, right?

As he took a mild detour from his quest to rescue Princess Amalia, he could hear a wonderful, girlish giggle tickle his ear. Only a few hours into this journey, and he was already going crazy? But the gentle, happy laughter felt nice against his ear and soothed his mind. If this was a curse, it wasn’t too terrible.

When he’d decided that he’d just keep the bag and hope to find the owner one day, he swore he could hear that female voice cheer.

And that bag... seemed to be endless! As he transferred his food supplies—some tasteless hard tack, dried jerky (a true delicacy that he would save for only the direst of moments), and other dried fruit—they appeared to take up no space at all! His original heavy bag began to shrink away, and his new bag remained completely flat-looking. Yet when he peeked inside, there it all was. All of his rations and supplies. With a shrug, he picked it up and tied a string around its opening. Then lifted it.

...It was weightless! Brian marveled the ease with which he could maneuver the thing. Another thrilling round of phantom applause and happy cheering echoed through his mind. He could almost feel the warmth of a woman by his side, her elegant arms wrapped around his neck.

“Princess Amalia... if that is you, fear not! I am coming to rescue you!” he declared proudly. This had to be a sign that his cause was just and righteous! Should he meet his end at the hands of the fearsome dragon that protected her tower... so be it.

On the second day, after digging out a small hole for a campfire and seeing an inexplicable pair of glowing lights fire at it briefly and starting his kindling for him, he discovered a sword stuck in a stone. A literal sword in a stone! In fact, he’d almost missed it as he trudged along in his armor, his helm visor constantly falling down. But a whisper in his ear followed by a gentle shove twisted his body 90 degrees, and there it was.

He walked up to it and placed his hand on its ebony hilt. “Take it, my knight in shining armor...” another lilting voice whispered in his ear. The fine hairs on his neck stood up as he shuddered in shameful arousal. He must not behave like this should he actually make it to the trapped princess! Another giggle sounded in his ear, and he audibly gasped as he felt a silky stroke against his stiffening manhood. Through his armor!

The sword didn’t rise smoothly out of the stone as one might expect. The wonderful sensations against his manhood meant that his entire body was trembling. Which meant the sword trembled as well. It was so sharp, it simply wiggled out of the rock under his involuntary spasms, slicing the thing into perfectly carved pieces. So much for his old sword!

On day three, he woke up to find that his armor was lighter. And when an arrow whizzed into his chest out of nowhere (he had looked around frantically and found no one, not even a sign), it shattered uselessly into bits. Apparently it was a pure demonstration, the female voice whispered into his mind. In horror, he felt a pair of warm female hands envelop his own, manipulate him easily to unsheathe his sword, and then slice it right into his own body! That invisible force was so strong, he couldn’t resist it one bit! He expected a gory end at his own sharp, cursed sword... but it clattered off his new and improved armor. And then as if in another demonstration, he felt his hands get manipulated to effortlessly slice another rock into pieces in a flurry of swings.

“Hurry, my knight! Please come rescue me soon!” that voice whispered into his ear.

He grabbed his bag and sought out the next clue on which direction to go. Only to feel those hands grab him by the torso, pick him up, and plant him firmly on the ground facing a new direction.

Well, time to go, then.

---

Princess Amalia giggled as she met Brian on the first day of his trip, unbeknownst to him. She hovered and flitted around him, her body intangible and invisible for as long as she willed it. Finally, someone had read the impossible task of rescuing her and was up for the challenge! Someone who cared more about honor and glory than his own life. She couldn’t wait.

She followed him dutifully, floating around him like the sun orbiting the earth, giggling and flittering her closed fists in excitement. He was so inadequately prepared! It made her all the more unreasonably happy that he was ready to impale himself on his sword. For her!

But the last thing she wanted was Sir Brian’s death. She granted him artifacts of her own conjuring, the likes of which this world had never seen. Of course, a mere fraction of her power was powerful enough to overcome anything. And she so loved that he appreciated her handiwork. A snap of her fingers, and a new reward registered into existence.

At night, she lit his fires for him by firing some heat from her eyes. And when he dreamed, she lay down next to him and sighed, phasing her breasts against his body as she desperately wished to feel physical contact while intangibly grinding against him. Her whispers and songs were a wonderful lullaby that kept Brian healthy and refreshed every morning. And if she did it enough, he seemed to be able to sense her presence. Certainly his body reacted to her intangible sexual assault.

So she began to talk to him more. Touch him more, as she gave him a sword that could cut anything. Armor that could not be penetrated. Weakened horrifying beasts for him to fell by simply poking them in their most vulnerable spots, crippling them and highlighting the targets for Sir Brian.

A few nights later, she began to earnestly stroke his knightly manhood through his leather chaps. Still asleep, Sir Brian began to respond earnestly to her pumping hand and the light twisting pressure she applied to him so expertly. All the while, she spoke to him sweetly, telling him how excited she was to meet the man worthy enough for her. She licked his earlobe, telling him the pleasures they would share, the wonderful life they would experience together, and the endless sexual satisfaction that she could provide him while her dexterous fingers played him like a flute, her skin soft and supple, her grip strong and firm.

Brian awoke to dreams of Amalia as he exploded in orgasm. A dark, wet stain appeared on his leathers as he felt a deep sense of shame for what had just happened. Amalia almost felt bad for him, even as she laughed at his self-imposed asceticism. He whispered his apologies into the night air, begging forgiveness from the Princess he hadn’t even met yet.

Amalia reached for his still hard manhood once more and whispered her commands straight into his mind, telling him to forget all that had happened while she continued to stroke him for her own pleasure. He fell back to sleep, to dream a pleasant dream as a quick glance of her large, soulful, and innocent blue eyes dried him off and removed all physical evidence of the deed.

And now, Sir Brian stood before the black dragon that guarded Amalia’s tower. She looked on from high in its prison, sighing contentedly as her knight in shining armor was about to cut through the beast’s weak spot on his heart where she’d casually swiped her hand over it. A quick puff of her violent super breath also leveled out the dangerous, rocky footing into a flat, even plateau on which Brian would be able to fight without peril. Plus an angry stare to completely vaporize the dragon’s cave, her powerful beams slicing through earth even more easily than the Amalia-enchanted sword she’d guided Brian to.

She couldn’t wait to be rescued!