Chapter 3: Memories, Meatheads and a Mystery

Stepping through the portal I was expecting the exclamations and fright, but these boys were over the top. The biggest lad (whom I chose for Hero), fell on his knees and starting reciting Our Lord’s Prayer over and over. Our second largest guy, started looking over his shoulder, probably for evidence of wings sprouting on his back.

This did not bode well.

“You are not dead, this is not heaven, your prayers are not going to do anything here.” I sighed. The two stable hands looked pale and frightened but said nothing and nodded. The two big guys were not buying it.

At this point, Greeter Diane walked in clad in a white robe with simple sandals on. Laying it on a bit thick, I thought.

“Arise, good men of earth!” She said in a serious tone. “To whom am I speaking?”

“My Lady...” I started, “May I introduce Hero John, his Man-at-arms, Matthew, and his two squires, Peter and Joseph. Myself, I am Lord Nathaniel, soldier and companion.

“Well met, men of earth. Be welcome.” And she clapped her hands.

A table, laden with food and drink appeared. “Cleanliness is next to godliness, and so first we will cleanse ourselves.” she intoned with severity and led us to another wall. Doors appeared, and the bathing room became visible. I started stripping my clothes (I wasn’t wearing much anyways, and in reality I had bathed about an hour ago) then led the unresisting Squires to one of the showers. The two burly boys were crying their eyes out, and asking the “angel” her name.

As I was closing the shower door, I caught a glimpse of the back of a nude Diane, and the shocked faces of our Hero and his Man-at-Arms ... priceless.

I showed the boys how to wash themselves, and then made them do it again, then once more. Stepping out of the showers, I handed them thick fluffy white towels and put them into white robes with their hair still wet and in their eyes.

“Let us sit and eat” I said. “This would not be here if we were not to partake”

“Sir, should we not pray first?” One of the boys, (I think it was Peter) said.

“Very Well...” I responded “Great leader and controlling power of this, great world, bless us and strengthen us for the work ahead of us ... amen” The boys looked confused, but the food was getting to them, and hungry young boys do not care too much for ceremony.

I started with the fresh fruit (a delicacy for the poor) and between us we finished every grape, strawberry and melon on the table before making an attempt on the meats and cheeses. The boys were very nearly chewing in their sleep before Diane and the two men came out of their ‘showers’. Diane had the “well swived” look she always wore after a good few dozen orgasms, and the men just looked dazed.

“My lady, these young men need their rest, after a trip to the commodes...” I said and let her take them from there.

The table was completely reset when I turned. It was telling that the older men just sat to eat, no prayers required.

For the lower classes, gritty hard bread dipped and soaked in stew was the norm. I was half seriously thinking of asking the Caretakers and Greeters if we could simply have that all the time here too, but the quality food and drink was part of the reward.

Spending time in the luxury on Crossroads made for real dissatisfaction when I was either on Chaos or Earth. The women, the food, the training, the healing ... all of it was better here. When I stopped to think of it, I would trade my Keep, my lands, and my title to just live a simple life here. It was probably part of their plan.

I suppose that my idea to bring and train my recruits here was probably a reflection of my desire to simply return and live here. Finding a way to return after being removed from the ranks of Heroes was a welcome surprise.

I came back to the men at the table, they were making smirking faces, and a few rude comments. “Low-born men,” I started out, just to make a point “Should you continue to speak this way, our host will hear you. Let me tell you, your privileges here are just that, privileges, and they can be lost. The men looked sheepishly at me for a moment, Hero John got over it first, and dived into the fruit. Matthew joined him moments later.

Diane returned and poured us wine, which was better than any I had back at home. She was wise enough to serve it in small claret crystal stemware which she refilled infrequently, as these men were the type to put their drink back quickly ... whenever they got access to it. I don’t think that they picked up on the fact that the decanter never seemed to empty. Sitting demurely, she raised her hands, and received three large folders of their parchment, the Candidates for Caretaker.

I’ll admit, after watching John and Matthews face for the surprise image at the last page, I tuned out. Diane helped with the selection process, and I didn’t care one way or the other. Her rules were going to be satisfied, and she was getting some political points out of it herself (and more tumbles in the sack than I recall a Greeter ever getting before).

Sharon Caretaker was chosen before the end of my third little glass of the excellent wine. The curly haired brunette with the largest breasts I had ever seen, appeared and dragged our Hero off for a ravishing in the same time it took me to pour another drink. Diane quickly stood and the food, drinks (including mine!) and table vanished like it was never there. Linking arms with Matthew, she strolled off towards a door at the far end of the room.

“Bedchamber!” I called out after her, and with a slow dramatic flick of her hand behind her, another door opened to a small apartment. I used the facilities, cleaned up and went to sleep on the type of mattress that ruins you for a straw-rope bed with a wool blanket.

I awoke to Diane stretching herself alongside me, nude. She reeked of sweat and sex. I lay still, hardening myself at the thought of her.

“Did you kill the poor boy?” I asked into the darkness?

She chuckled “No, but I think he tried to kill himself, I swear I might be the first woman of Cassandra to have six different men in a week!” She gave a little shiver, and possibly another small release.

“Does that make you a harlot then? Not much of an angelic figure” I threw out, with some pretend venom. I was trying to cool her ardour, and dry her up. It was only a matter of when I jumped her, not if, and I was still trying to catch one of these women unprepared for me.

When I first visited, it was a dream come true. I may not have been a virgin, but the women here accepted any virile man, at any time, and I was dipping my rod as many as ten times a day.

A man would not expect to find the fairer sex dull, especially those who were as beautiful as these women, but over time I have played different games to intentionally keep my interest. Binding them, slapping them while rooted deep, forcing myself upon them (or trying to). If anything, the women I met here enjoyed it all more than the normal sex. Still, I kept at it from time to time, trying to find a limit as to just how aggressive I could be before turning them off.

“You don’t understand,” she was snuffling “I have lashed myself to the mast, when this is all done, my supervision will find out just how many rules I’ve bent, broken, or just plain trampled on and I’ll be removed from role if she doesn’t take my side. I’ve left her in the dark so she can claim I acted without her consent if everything goes poorly.”

I understood about half of what she’d said but picked up enough to realize that she wasn’t the Regent of this place, and my plans might fall apart if she was replaced for helping me.

“Why then are you doing this?” I asked reasonably “You were not forced to. If this is such a risk, what is your reward?” Our knowledge of these women (we had never knowingly met one of their men, though I had heard them referred to in passing) was very limited. My own father had a theory that we were needed to breed them for them to become as human as we were. My uncle thought them to be very weak succubus who had stolen a small portion of his soul, so were no longer a danger, and no longer a demon.

I really had no idea, but they were very well trained, and very horny.

In all honesty, I tended toward my uncles point of view.

“I like what you are trying to achieve, by protecting the portal and your people by proxy. It also helps my people to have more of yours come through and rescue our maidens to give them children.” (I seriously doubted any of these women were maidens, ever) “Besides, I like the idea of so many of you virile men.” She shivered again. “So many of the women of my world never get to experience an active, interested male for sex, even once, and here I get to set some sort of record of being pleasured by so many men, so often and so well.”

I didn’t give a damn about her harlot record or that she would tell others about it, but I had ceased to be surprised at the differences that these women had from ours and I could appreciate them in their own way.

Making as though I was going to get out of bed, I turned at the last second and launched myself back across the wide bed, catching her far knee with my hip, and driving myself down upon her “You want to be taken, by virile men?” I yelled as I jammed my dry cock into her without pretense, hoping to finally catch her (or any of these women) unready. My forearms pinned her at the shoulders and I bit her nipple, hard. She screamed as I bottomed out in a single thrust and mauled (not gently) her teats with both my hand and my teeth. It wasn’t a scream of pain however, I could feel her cunt twitching and fluttering on my rod. I thrust as hard and as fast as I could, rising up and slapping her, teats, then cheeks, then back to teats again. “You’re just a slit for me to use, you are worse than a tavern wench, a gutter whore! Those sluts fuck to be paid, you are just paid in sticky seed, and you like it.” I said loudly and then groaned out a loud “Fuuuck!” As I came in this middle aged, tight bodied woman who was old enough to be my mother.

Her mouth and eyes were open, but I couldn’t determine if she was breathing or not, she wasn’t limp, but she was completely unresponsive.

Whatever she and the healing chamber had done to me, I had the hard rod of a newly made man and just kept pounding her. It must have been a minute later that she exhaled in a cough, and fainted. I just kept fucking her for the next while, with her occasionally seeming to come back to her senses to find my well-lubed cock sliding in and out of her. She would go rigid for a bit, then pass out again.

When I come for the third time in her squashy pussy, she weakly arched her back (or tried to, I was holding her down) and fainted one last time, twitching in unconsciousness.

Lying upon her, and giving her no reprieve with my softening pole in her well-used privates, I thought (not for the first time) that these were the strangest women. I probably had but a few hours to live (on my planet) so let’s live while we can, where we can.

I stretched and found my way to the showers. I was not surprised to glance in the other room, and see the two other men doing their best to hold the new Caretaker off the ground with only their knobs. With the penchant for the “two at a time” positions that the men of my Keep had, I expect there was at least one very busy lady that taught it to them ... that or my mind just was not creative enough to discover this one on its own.

The two young Squires were not in attendance, and I saw a slowly flashing light on the two heading chambers. I hoped they were not in peril in those things.

Diane still hadn’t moved, and seemed to be recovering peacefully so I lay down again beside her and slept.

She was gone when I awoke. Loud voices were just outside my door. Stepping out in only the white robe, I found Matthew and the Hero staring at each other. Not certain what was happening, but taking control anyway I shouted “Training to begin immediately!”

Glancing around at the not-quite-useless Caretaker who hustled over to a hither-to-unused section of wall, and opened a door to a training room. “Enter the room, take up a sword...” I directed as I did the same. I heard the men take swords from the bin. The sound from behind me was of metal on metal, and didn’t deter me. My sword was a wooden practice one, but they needed to learn a simple lesson on day one.

“Now, kill me if you can” I said, taking a defensive step backwards as though a touch afraid. Like countless hundreds before them, the idiots raised their swords and charged me side by side.

I had often been told by my father and uncle and any other men training me, that all one needed to win a sword fight against a peasant, was an hour of proper instruction.

Hero John was going to come into range first, and I took two quick lunges forward, stabbing him in the right side of his chest. The tip piercing him between the ribs. The shocked look on his face said it all, he wasn’t even aware a fighter could move that distance in that manner. He dropped his sword, cutting his own back in the process. His Caretaker fainted, sliding her back down the wall behind her.

Matthew was more defensive, and more scared looking, having just seen his comrade stabbed and hearing him yelling and moaning on the ground beside him.

Using a sword for purely defence, is a losing proposition in the long run. Matthew was doing the other thing that men did when they picked up a sword for the first time ... he was holding it out at arms length, trying to use the point to keep me away. I batted it around a bit, just waiting for him to tire, then I slapped it hard, ran my sword up to the handle and past the guard, breaking his fingers. A quick slap to the face and I think I broke his jaw.

Two dead commoners is the result 99 times out of 100 when they try their luck against an experienced swordsman. The real numbers are 4 or 5 to one in my experience. Put the experienced man in armour, and that ratio goes even higher. My brother and his 40-odd armoured mercenaries could easily be expected to kill 300 lightly armed rabble fighters if they were in good shape. The problem with his mercenaries though, was that if we shifted the tide of the battle, they were more likely to retreat than our men defending their families were.

Grabbing one of John’s feet, I dragged him over to where the healing chambers were. The Squires were still in there, lights flashing away. What were these women up to? Dropping our hero I went back for his apprentice, and was pleased to see he had followed despite his injury.