Author’s note: this is my attempt to tell a story which was inspired from some actual events back when I was rather involved with both medieval reenactments and the swinging lifestyle. It isn’t quick to run to the action, but if you appreciate a good character development with some hot sex, this might be your speed. As always, please comment, vote, and express your approval.
*****
The day began with a quick cleanup at the camp showers for both Luke and Kiana, followed by breakfast of camp coffee, oatmeal, and a bit of bacon. Luke ate medium light, not wanting to be too bogged down—today was the day of the tournament. He spent the better part of an hour stretching out, limbering up, and practicing moves to get himself ready for “combat.” Rodney had been his advisor for both his armor (manufactured from PVC, leather, and a few metal parts for the shield and headgear) and his fighting style. While he didn’t feel totally comfortable, he knew he was in very good shape overall, and he had some practice fighting with kali sticks, which he hoped might translate well.
He girded himself up on the upper body and headed down to the “ring,: with Rodney and Kiana following close behind. Normally, Rodney would fight in the tournament, but he had sprained his ankle badly earlier in the week, so he volunteered to be part of Luke’s cheering session and coach during the event. “Remember, above all else, avoid the hit. Focus more on your shield than your sword. That’s the number one mistake most guys make,” Rodney cautioned him. “Going for the quick kill will work, if you’re trying to get yourself killed.” After quickly checking in, they discovered he was up near the end of the first round, which meant at least another 25 or more matches to go. Two participants got called, and Luke settled in. Rodney used the proceedings to provide color commentary and impromptu instruction.
“Notice the way he uses his shield. Very smart,” he pointed out, as one early participant quickly dispatched an obvious newcomer. “I don’t expect you’ll do anything that foolhardy, don’t worry.” The next fight was more cagey, with both fighters seemingly unable to get a mental advantage on the other. It was as though they were both such canny veterans that they couldn’t pull out any tricks the other hadn’t seen. Finally, into the second round, one of them caught a shoulder hit with his sword on his opponent’s right side. “That’ll make it tricky,” Rodney observed. Luke was about to ask why when he remembered that a hit counted as an “injury,” and the knight was forced to drop his shield, pick up his sword with the other hand, and fight left-handed and one-armed. He was still cagey and difficult, and it lasted into a third round, but eventually the other knight overpowered and outmaneuvered him, striking the cherished head shot.
The fights went on this way. Some hopelessly one-sided, others interesting chess matches of cunning and violence. “See that, horrible move,” Rodney called out to him when one knight charged hard and put both his hands up, leading to a leg shot that forced him to hop on one foot until he was taken out 20 seconds later. “Study his parry, it’s virtually flawless,” he pointed out later, breaking down the movements of an obvious veteran who went by the name of “Sir Brutus.” While it made him a bit nervous, he was grateful for Rodney’s instruction and help, so that by the time he found himself being called as next, he felt fluid and loose.
As the fight previous to them ended, he put on and secured his headgear, and looked over at Rodney. “Any final advice?”
“Yeah. Breathe!” he barked, laughing like a nut and clapping him on the back. Luke shrugged, and went out to face his opponent.
The judge admonished both of them to fight fair, and observe the already stated rules of the tournament. After a bow to each other, they began fighting. Luke quickly parried his opponent’s aggressive swing, and then another, followed by another. He relaxed, realizing that this guy was going for broke quickly, and had no idea what he was doing. He spent most of the first round parrying aggressive low swings, and waiting for the high swing, finally getting one high and open enough that he was able to stop the force of his arms up high, and swing in with a solid blow to the body. The fight was quickly called in his favor, and he relaxed, turning back to the sidelines.
Luke settled back in, enjoying the spectacle as he sipped gatorade and ate some trail mix. He began to take in his surroundings a bit as his nerves calmed, and noticed some rather royal looking people settled in on a couple of makeshift thrones. “Who are they?” he asked Rodney.
“The king and queen. The king fights in the armor tournaments, and gets the crown for a year. He chooses his queen, usually his partner. This king won at the winter invitational and will reign until the next one.”
He took them in. The king was a man of medium height and build, handsome, with long hair and a closely-trimmed beard. His queen was eryaman escort blonde, with wavy, long hair, and stunning green eyes. She was curvily built, and her movements seductive, and he felt immediately drawn to her, though he couldn’t explain it. He shook his head, and went back to watching the action.
Several more fights unfolded in front of them, and Rodney continued his analysis, which he was actually rather enjoying. The competition was better this round, as the more experienced fighters had obviously risen to the top. After a few more entertaining rounds, he was called to prepare again. “Remember…” Rodney began.
“Yeah, breathe. I know,” he countered.
“No. I mean, yeah,” he said, chuckling. “It’ll be tougher this round. Your opponent will be more cagey. More experienced. Just remember to take him out of his game.”
Rodney’s advice turned out to be right on the money. The first round was an uncomfortable draw, with Luke’s opponent constantly trying to bait him. The second was no different. Finally, near the end of the round, after a particularly hard charge by his opponent, he managed to wield a shot to the leg. Forced to stand on one leg, Luke saw his opportunity, and continuously attacked in from side angles, until he had gotten his opponent off balance enough to strike a shoulder shot. Now, with one arm and one leg, it was quick work before he scored a solid body shot, and the fight was called in his favor.
Luke was preparing to go off to the side and watch again, until he heard a rumbling voice. “Sir knight! Sir knight! Come take audience with the throne!” He looked over, and it was the king, calling to him. Luke didn’t know what he wanted, but remembered that he had been cautioned that many in this “game” took it quite seriously. He trotted over, bowed low, and stepped forward in the 3/4 stance he had been shown by Rodney yesterday.
“Remove your helmet, sir knight,” the queen commanded. He reached up and undid it, pulling it off, then resuming his stance. “What is your name, sir knight?” she commanded. Shit, what was the name he had chosen. It was…was…
“Uh, Lucien, your highness.”
“Excellent, sir knight. Your fighting is quite impressive, though we have not seen you here before. Which clan do you represent?”
“I am a guest of the clan of McGregor, and this is my first event of both fighting and attendance.”
“Amazing, that you fight like such a seasoned pro,” interjected the king. He rose, and shook his hand in the medieval custom of grasping the forearm. “I am Aramis, the king of the kingdom. My queen and bride, Marianne,” he said, indicating the queen, who presented her hand, as Luke bowed and kissed it. “Your fighting has won the queen’s attention, so she wishes to present you with something.” The queen dug in a bag, and then presented a small slip of satin, with a monogram and a logo of the “kingdom” and a small crown.
“This is my favor,” she explained. “Carry it with you for luck during the tournament.”
“Thank you your highness,” Luke answered with another bow.
“Later today, we will dine together,” Aramis said. “In the meantime, good luck during the tournament.”
Luke bowed to them both, and thanked them. When he made eye contact with Marianne again, he thought he noticed a look in her eye that was at least flirtatious, if not openly desiring, but he decided to play it somewhat cool until he could get more of an idea of what would happen. But he was definitely intrigued.
Rodney was impressed by the conversation and the favor, telling him it was great to be “in with the royals.” He talked up great meals, entertainment, and all sorts of other advantages they received. The next round, however, was uneventful, as even though the competition was better, some guys were getting gassed and simply making dumb mistakes in an attempt to win quickly. When Luke’s round came, he dispatched his opponent in about 20 seconds. Though he hadn’t been keeping track, he was told this was good, as he was in the final four.
He was feeling good, and was quite keen to see if he could win, when his opponent was announced. Sir Brutus, the brutal one. He stood up, evaluating the man, who was at least 6’5″ and 240 lbs. Rodney talked rapidly, trying to give him pointers, telling him this guy was good, really, really good, but he had weaknesses, including a high center of gravity, and a propensity to go for head shots over anything.
When they began fighting, Luke couldn’t see any weaknesses. He relaxed, and let the fight come to him, using every bit of martial arts awareness he had developed over the last decade of training, but no matter how quick his strike, Brutus had a counter. Every maneuver, he saw coming. After two rounds, they had battled intensely, and he felt more exertion than he had in all of the previous fights combined.
A third round came, and dragged. Several times he thought he had an opening, but Brutus had countered, esat escort moving shockingly quick for such a large man. Finally, he had managed to put him off balance, but rather than go for the tap to the arm he had open, Luke had shoved him to the ground, intending on “spearing” his torso to end the fight. Brutus, however, pulled a move worthy of a breakdancer or an MMA expert, quickly spinning upward, and catching his leg. So now, Luke had to lift his leg and fight on only his right foot. Thinking it was over, Luke started to go back to the side at the end of the third round, but was told that since this was the final four, points would not be considered, and all matches had to end in a kill.
Another round, and it ended in a draw. Luke was sweating profusely, and downed gatorade in a large gulps. Both Kiana and Melanie were kissing him, wishing him luck, and trying to give him pep talks, but he was barely registering it due to all the adrenaline. Midway through the next round, Luke got a large opening, and managed to nail Brutus in the arm. As he dropped his shield, Luke knew this was the beginning of a momentum swing, and after a few more blows and parries, he barely connected on a leg shot. Thinking he was finally on equal footing, the fight became a veritable slugfest, with him having the advantage of two arms, though both of them on one leg. Finally, Brutus accidentally opened himself with a big swing, and as Luke went to capitalize, he overextended and slipped on the soft grass. Unfortunately, as he fell forward, he felt Brutus’s sword make contact with his side. Match over. Luke heard cheering as he stood up, shaking the loss off.
He looked up, and saw Brutus extending a hand. He took it, and as he helped him up, Brutus spoke into his ear. “Well done. No one has given me that much difficulty in a while,” he said in a rumble of a voice. “I look forward to meeting you in future tournaments.” He clapped Luke on the shoulder, and walked away.
Rodney came over, and told him how well he had done to take Brutus the distance, as apparently he was tough stuff in these tourneys. He went back to the side, ready to sit down, but was told to keep his armor on, as there was one more fight for him, and fight for 3rd place.
Another fight ensued, and it was somewhat drawn out, but the loser was dispatched to the sideline too. Finally, Luke met the loser in the field, and it took him a little over one round to secure a blow to the body. So he placed 3rd.
Next, Brutus fought another large man, this one stocky but also quick. It lasted three rounds before Brutus really started to dominate, slowly picking his opponent apart, finishing with a head shot. Brutus was crowned the winner, and as they each received flagons indicating their placing, a person called him over to meet with the king and queen. They went to a courtyard with multiple tables, and Luke found himself on the side of the queen. The queen had Kiana sent for by Rodney, and she joined them as they dug into a fine meal of game hens and veggies. During the meal, Marianne gave him special attention, chatting him up, and discussing the tournament. By the end of the meal, she had made her flirting quite clear, and had invited them to another event in one month, which they gracefully accepted.
As lunch broke up, Luke found himself overly full, and Rodney and Joe wanted to go play Tablero. Luke was planning on going with them, but Aramis called him back. “You fought very well out there for a guy who’s never strapped on armor before.”
“Thanks. I’ve been doing Jeet Kune Do and MMA for years, so that helped a bit, I guess.”
“I’d like to help you train, if you’re interested. The Lyton wars are in a month up in Canada, and you’d do well in that tournament.”
“Sure, that’d be great! What do you have in mind?”
“Where do you live?”
“Portland, in the western suburbs.”
“Ok. I’m in Seattle, not too far away. Maybe you can take a few days off, come up, I’ll train you for a day or so, and we can all go up together?”
“Sure.”
Aramis extended his hand. “Harold is my mundane name. Hers is Tika.”
“Luke,” he said, shaking back.
“Pleased to meet you. We’ll talk again, and have you over. I’ll give you my number and contact info before the end of the event.”
Luke and Harold walked and chatted as they walked back toward Marianne, and they invited him and Kiana back to their tent. As they walked, with a few other people connected to the king and queen in tow who he didn’t know, he spied what seemed the biggest tent he had ever seen. Round, easily 30 feet in diameter, when they stepped inside it appeared to be more like a small house with the lavish way it was furnished. “It’s good to be king,” Harold said, affecting an aristocratic air.
“History of the World?” Luke asked.
“Yeah. I love Mel Brooks,” he acknowledged with a chuckle, indicating a folding oversize chair he should recline in. Marianne etimesgut escort took the opportunity, and came up to him with a washcloth and small tub of warm water.
“I’m sure you’ll shower in a bit, but we should look you over for any bruises or cuts,” she said, indicating he should take off his armor. He removed his top armor and undershirt, and she set about washing the couple of scuffs he had from the ground and where he had gotten pinched from the armor. He was trying to think of what on his armor could have caused those marks, but kept getting distracted, as her attention was not only tender, but her generous cleavage was on display, and there was something unbelievably sensual in her movements. He was trying to figure out if that was just her manner, or if she was trying to put out some signals of interest, and he was thoroughly confused.
“Want me to do the bottom half?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Now now, babe,” Harold interjected, “let’s not get him naked in front of people he barely knows.”
Luke was confused—he didn’t want to offend anyone, let alone the nobility of this event, but he also had a sure lust brewing for this woman, and he was definitely game—his cock was starting to inflate inside the cup he was wearing, and it was a tad bit uncomfortable.
“Why don’t you go shower, change back into your garb, and meet me over at the main stage area?” Harold suggested. “We can chat a bit more there.”
Luke readily agreed. Kiana decided to wait behind to have some time to chat with the king and queen.
—Luke—
About 45 minutes later, Luke found himself outside the main stage, where a gathering seemed to be slowly forming. He had only been waiting a minute before Harold strolled up with a man in tow, who he introduced as Bernardo, his friend.
“What’s going on here?” Luke asked, indicating the crowd.
“Kissing auction,” he heard a female voice behind him, and turned to see Marianne/Tika strolling up, with Kiana behind her. Tika hooked her arm in his, and gave him an affectionately wet peck on the cheek. “The royals are required to kick it off. We’ll probably duck out early and get food later.” As she said this, she reached up, fixed his hair a bit, and ran her finger along his cheek lightly. He felt himself grow a bit under his kilt—this woman was driving him nuts.
Harold explained the particulars of the kissing auction quickly, and then beckoned him over to speak in private for a second.
“How do you feel about coming up in 2 weeks from now. Do you think you can get the time off? We could train and hang out.”
“The time off should be okay, I’ve got some vacation saved up. But I’ll need to make sure I can book a hotel.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he replied. “You’ll stay at my house, I have a very large place and plenty of room.”
“Okay. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why are you helping me? You barely know me.”
“Well, first of all, I love to see new blood in the mix, and you have some talent. We’re very immersed in this game, we even make much of our living off of it, so I have an interest in seeing in flourish.”
“Okay. What’s the second reason?”
“My wife has taken a fancy to you, it appears. And I like to give her what she wants, if possible. I know Kiana has flirted a bit with me and her, but we weren’t sure if you two were just the type of couple that plays here, or is actually open in their relationship.” He paused for a second. “Is it possible, outside of this game?”
Luke stopped and glanced over. Marianne was openly appraising him, and he smiled at her, feeling a stirring down below at the thought of having her on top of him, moving those shapely hips as he buried himself deep inside her. He looked back over at him, nodded, and smiled. Harold broke into a broad grin, clapped him on the shoulder, and said “Excellent! Let’s go back and join the others.”
They rejoined the others. As the conversation picked up, Kiana came up and kissed him. “I have a confession, love.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I entered you in the kissing auction.”
“Excellent!” Bernardo cried out. “I’m one of the emcees. I’ll make sure he gets bidded on. We need some fresh meat this year anyway.”
They all chatted for a bit, and watched as the auction got underway. It was slow at first, with a few people of either sex who weren’t especially attractive, and bids were low. After a few, though, an attractive latino man came up, and the bids started to get intense. 10 minutes later, he was being auctioned off for $100, and a portly but cute middle aged woman came up and practically ravaged him on the stage. A younger girl of about 20 got up next, blonde and doe-eyed, and the bidding once again went wild. Bernardo came up beside him, fetching water from a cooler. “Don’t expect them all to get this attention,” he cautioned, making his way back to the stage.
“And next, a special treat for the ladies,” Bernardo bellowed from the stage. “Prime USDA meat, in the form of Sir Lucien!”
Kiana kissed him on the cheek, whispering in his ear “Good luck. I’ll clear out of the tent for a bit tonight to give you some room to play.”
Before he could ask her if he had heard her correctly, Tika kissed him on the other cheek and said “Have fun tonight, stud. We’ll catch up with you later.”