
King Brian IV watched from his seat at the hight table as his herald announced
each of the knights who had answered his call for a champion in turn. Many of
them were familiar to him being from his very own household guard, including
the young Sir Rodney who towered over the men around him. He was gratified
to see so many had come to answer his call. Of course, the purse he had
offered for the winner of the tourney might have had something to do with it.
There were certainly a lot of unfamiliar faces and garb that he seldom
saw in the Greyling mountains. As he watched a pair of men wearing the flowing
robes of the desert kingdoms who looked like brothers were announced. He
had already seen a wolfbound northman enter his great hall, with his bonded
beast padding calmly beside him.

"Dame Mary Redding" The herald called and Brian IV watched as a tall red head
walked into the room. It was shocking to hear a woman be announced along
with the aspiring champions, but Brian suspected that the hall would have
fallen into an awed hush even if Mary had arrived in more mundane circumstances.
The skirt of her green velvet gown had none of the volume provided by the
numerous petticoats the women of Brian's court wore, instead it clung to
her long legs wherever it could. The tight skirt stopped a few inches above
her knees and then her legs were completely bare until they disappeared under
her black high heeled shoes. For a man like Brian who was not used to seeing
a woman's ankles except in the most intimate of circumstances, it was a
shockingly erotic display. Dragging his eyes up from her shapely ankles,
he saw that Mary's gown was as scandalously cut at the top as it
was at the bottom. If the five or six next most voluptuous women in
the great hall were to combine their bust volume, they might have been able
to fill out Mary's overstretched bodice, but Brian wasn't certain of their
chances. Stress lines were visible on the large expanse of green velvet which
covered her breasts, and her pale flesh looked like it was straining to
escape. The gown's neckline was cut in a deep and wide V, so that the top
portion of Mary's breasts were fully bared to the world.

She walked slowly down the central aisle of the great hall, hips swaying
seductively as every eye in the room was dragged along by her magnetic curves.
The hushed conversation dropped to a lower and lower volume until the click
of her heels could be clearly heard with each footfall. Brian IV was in in
sudden sensory overload, distracted by the bounce of the gleaming ringlets
which haloed her face and the never ending quake of her bosom that got
renewed every time she took a step. "King Brian, it will be an honor to
be your champion." She said clearly as she curtsied low in front of him,
giving the flabbergasted king an even better view down the front of her
dress.

Fortunately, all that was expected of Brian at this point was a nod. He
wasn't sure his head was screwed on straight enough to allow him to form
a coherent sentence. Once he gave his acknowledgment it was as if a spell
had broken. The conversation resumed, though sluggishly as many an eye
still tracked the gorgeous newcomer's progress towards a table where many
of the hopeful champions were gathering. Certainly Brian found himself
struggling to tear his gaze away from the sway of her shapely rump in
time to acknowledge the next tourney participant.


"So, tell me about this tournament. I'm not from around here, so I'm
not up on the particulars." At the sound of the newcomer's voice,
Rodney realized that he had been staring throughout her entire
approach. Now she stood facing him only a couple feet away. Since
he was sitting down, this placed her spectacular bosom directly
in front of his face. He felt as if his whole field of vision was
filled with peaches and cream cleavage and gleaming green velvet.
He had never seen such perfect breasts before, he felt an overwhelming
urge to ingratiate himself with the owner of the massive rack in front
of him.

"Ummm. What?" Was all he managed.

Mary smirked, reveling in the way that after almost 200 years alive she could
still short circuit a man with her beauty. She sat down into an empty chair
next to the huge knight. "I asked if you could explain the rules of the
tournament to me. I haven't fought in one in this part of the world before."

Rodney was able to rip his gaze away from her chest as she sat, managing to
make contact with her brilliant blue eyes. It was a little easier to concentrate
when looking at her face, but not by much. "Oh, umm. Right. Well, first there
will be a wrestling round, then a jousting round, and finally a round with
swords and armor."

"Jousting on horses right?" She asked.

"What else would we ride?" He asked in confusion. For someone who wanted to
participate in the tournament, she didn't seem to know very much.

"Oh, lots of things. Dire wolves, elephants, giant bats." She said. "It's
usually horses though, isn't it?"

"What's an elephant?" Rodney asked.

"Its a kind of-. That's not important right now." She said, "Tell me, this
swords-and-armor round, will it be a mêlée or a series of duals?"

"Have you ever been to a tourney before Lady Redding?" He asked.

"It's Dame Mary actually. I've been to lots, but its done differently
in different places." She replied.

"Perhaps, if you have never been to a Greyling tourney before, you should
just watch this one to get a feel for things. We use live steel here in the
north, not those blunted practice swords they use south of the Torr. It would
be a stain on my honor to see a woman hurt on my lord's lands." He said,
feeling a chivalric obligation to protect this foreign woman from the violent
contest she had entered with so little knowledge. How had a woman even been
allowed to sign up?

"Oh, that's awfully sweet of you, but you needn't worry. I'll make sure not
to get hurt so that your honor can remain unblemished." She smiled up at him,
blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

"A tourney field is no place for a woman, Dame Mary." He replied, worried
that she wasn't taking this seriously enough.

"Maybe not a Greyling woman, but I'm not from around here." She paused, "I'll
tell you what. I'm going to poke you on the nose. If you can stop me, I'll
withdraw from the tournament, but if you can't you won't say anything more
about the danger it might pose me. And you'll perform a task of my choosing."
She threw in the last proviso on a whim, sure he would take the challenge
anyway.

Sir Rodney worried that she had some trick up her sleeve, but his sense of
duty made him feel obligated to try to keep her from harms way. He also
never walked away from a challenge. "Very well." He said, turning to face
her and raising his two large hands in front of his face to protect himself.

Mary smiled and leaned back a bit, bringing her hands up to gather her long
red tresses up and smooth them back behind her shoulders. As she did so, she
thrust her chest forward, causing her milky breasts to rise a few inches and
jiggle slightly at the motion that rippled through her when he shook her hair
out. The motion only took a moment, but it was a moment drawn out to infinity.
It was the sort of moment which burns itself into the mind of teenage boys and
haunts them nights for the rest of their lives. It was the sort of moment that
made Sir Rodney intensely aware of the animal lust which lay banked within him,
and though he was no longer an teenager, it was one that would surly paint his
dreams for months and years to come.

Though she could feel Sir Rodney coming under her spell, Mary hadn't really used
any magic. Strictly speaking, she had used magic, but only to dismiss the
illusion she habitually wrapped herself in to take the edge off of her beauty.
In Mary's youth, some of her favorite spells had been to enhance her beauty in
order to leave her foes helpless with desire, but these days it was when she
dismissed her magic that men begged her to let them worship her. Now, she
allowed her perfectly formed breasts to display their full glory and Sir
Rodney became her toy in the time it took her tug at the neckline of her
gown, making adjustments to correct non-existent flaws in the way that
the fabric lay against her bosom.

Sir Rodney watched as Dame Mary Redding shook her hair back and adjusted
her dress. Those simple motions made him feel as if he had been struck
by lightning. The busty red head reduced his world to her creamy cleavage
and the tightness in his pants in just a few seconds. "Boop." She said.
He found that her right index finger was on his nose. She didn't appear to
have moved very fast to put it there.

"I hope you realize that I'm a big girl now." She said. "I can take care of
myself."

Sir Rodney cleared his throat, embarrassed at how easily she had unmanned him.
For some reason though, he found the way she had embarrassed him unreasonably
arousing. "I-yes well..." He trailed off.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of green velvet and peaches and cream
cleavage for Sir Rodney. Dame Mary kept up a scintillating conversation with
the others around them, but after his exposure to the full force of her
sexual presence he felt unsure. Sir Rodney had seen men broken by the violence
of battle before, and he felt as he had always imagined they did, only
it was not battle which had broken him but the breasts which strained the
stitches of Mary's gown. He thought it a wonder that the fabric did not burst
under the onslaught of her abundance. Certainly he had been felled before it
easily enough.

"Oh, Sir Rodney, don't think I haven't forgotten our little wager." She
admonished as he made to depart with the other knights of his lord's
service. "You still have a task to complete."

He sighed, but he was a man of his word, "What would you have of me?" He
asked.

"Attend me in my chambers." She replied, before sweeping off into the north
wing of the castle. She led him towards the suite reserved for visiting
dignitaries of the highest rank. She had suppressed her illusion when
introducing herself to King Brian's steward so that he would not kick up
a fuss about a woman entering the tourney, and it seemed to have made the
man quite passionate about her comfort.

Sir Rodney trailed after her like a puppy. He stood 6'8" tall, but Dame
Mary's black shoes possessed a wicked looking spiked heel and platforms
a few inches thick, so she came nearer his height than most men. He watched
those shoes click against the floor as she took long, confidant strides
down the hallway, and wondered what she was going to do with him. His
gaze wandered up her scandalously bare legs and settled on the small
of her back. Her wide birthing hips were twice as broad as her narrow waist,
and the buttocks which swelled against the green velvet of her dress
were each half again as big as Sir Rodney's head. If Mary had stopped
walking and leaned forward a few degrees he could have set a glass on
the top of her ass without fear.

Once they entered her suite, Mary lead him to her bed room where she turned
suddenly to pin him against the door he had just closed. Sir Rodney had been
fixated on Mary's abundant bosom since the moment she had walked into his
king's great hall, but now that he could actually feel their softness spreading
across his chest his mind melted under the onslaught. He would have orgasmed
at the contact if Mary did not reach out with her magic and prevent it. "Kiss
me." She commanded.

At her words Rodney's shocked stillness broke and he moved against her like
an animal. Mary could have magicked their clothing away, but she preferred
observing the desperation with which the hulking knight tore at their garments.
Finally they stood unclothed before one another and Rodney gripped the bodacious
seductress's ass with both his hands before lifting her up and lowering her
onto the tip of his throbbing erection. She seemed far heavier than she ought
to be for a moment before she muttered something under her breath and grew as
light as a child. He knew from experience that women took a long time become
ready enough to take his girth, so expected to hold her suspended for a while
and was glad of whatever spell she had used. Indeed, her neatly trimmed pussy
was as tight as any he had ever felt, but she was dripping with want and
she stretched over the bulbous tip of his cock with no sign of discomfort
when he first pressed into her.

Mary Redding's lovemaking was unlike anything that Sir Rodney had experienced.
He had heard tell of men who had lain with fey one to many times and become
thrall to their beauty, and he imagined that they might feel as he did. Whatever
art she used to hold his climax at bay did nothing to prevent his arousal from
building. From moment to moment, different things stoked his lust, but it was
ever growing. The feel of her silken skin sliding against his, the way her
fiery hair spread out on the pillow beneath her, the way that she moaned
it obvious delight at the way his massive member moved within her, the
way her ripe breasts, pale in the moonlight from the window, quaked with
each of his thrusts, her sudden twisting motion that left her straddling
him and smiling down at him in a way that said she knew exactly how deeply
into her power he had fallen, the way she rode him afterwards, each of these
things brought Sir Rodney's crescendo of pleasure to still higher heights.

As she writhed above him, blue eyes gleaming, Sir Rodney knew himself to
be hopelessly, tragically in love. It was the sort of life-ruining love
that would never be fulfilled. It was the sort that set men on hopeless
quests and poisoned the love brothers held for one another. A man nearing
thirty ought not to be forming a new such love, and yet Mary's body would
not be denied.

Finally, mercifully, the foreign witch allowed him to cum. He did so in
volumes he would not have thought possible and found that he was soaked
in sweat and more tired than after a day of training in the yard. His
whole body had a worked over feel to it, as though something very large
had chewed him up and spit him out. Even though Mary had done most of the
work, she hardly looked winded. The only signs of her exertion was a light
panting that set her breasts to moving fetchingly and a single strand of hair
stuck to her forhead. "Don't think I'll go easy on you because of this,"
she warned him.

Having felt the strength of her body, Sir Rodney knew it was no idle boast.

"Go on, you should return to your own bed and get some rest."
