Red Knight by The Tome of Ebon: /~Tome_of_Ebon/ To send feedback, visit the website above. Mar 19, 2011 ====== This story contains descriptions of an adult nature. If you are a minor or person offended by such materials, you should not read further. This story does not necessarily reflect any people or practices in the real world, and should not be taken as reality. Codes: M/f, rape, viol, sad, snuff, piv, 1st ====== The red knight loomed behind his prey, moving like a spirit of death in his articulated plate armor. That thought was the only one in the peasant girl's mind as she fled from the destruction. Faster, I need to go faster! she begged with herself, her legs burning with the pain of overexertion. The fields seemed to blur to either side of her, her soft-lipped mouth gasping in breath, the first chill of autumn in the taste of the air. Behind her, the warrior roared, running fast despite his armor. His crimson sword dripped with the blood of the villagers, the dirtied metal of his armor silhouetted by the flames of the burning huts behind him, shining with the sheen of smeared liquid. The howl that echoed from his helm made her blood run cold. Could anything human sound so bestial? Images of the blood and fire, the berserk raiders wading through dying villagers, swam in her head as she tore through the brush of the forest, leaving the outskirts of the village fields behind. Her pursuer's kindred invaders were still back there in the ruins, slaughtering and pillaging until nothing was left, but the red knight behind her pursued relentlessly, bellowing with fury as he smashed through the bracken after her, the thorns that clawed the milky skin under her undyed peasant dress bouncing off of his armor harmlessly. Like the doe fleeing from the pack of wolves, she ran for her very life, sensing if not knowing that to be captured by her pursuer was to die. The red knight loomed behind her. He was gaining on her, closer and closer, a relentless engine of destruction crashing through the underbrush, trampling down the thorny plants—if they were defenseless against him, what hope had she, who had no weapon but what her willowy body offered? The girl couldn't escape, even if her life depended on it; he ran as if he could never tire, his longer legs letting him gain on her with each stride, first by small amounts, then greater ones as her body cried out for respite. Her legs were still running despite their fatigue when his gauntleted hands clamped on her shoulders and spun her around, no gentleness in the touch, the horned helm before her face, eyes that glittered with madness glaring at her through its opening. That gaze made her feel as if a spear had thrust through her heart, fixing her to the spot in terror. Her pretty mouth falling open in shock, she realized his armor wasn't red by design: it was so bathed in gore that its dull grey was overlaid with wet crimson. The smell of fresh blood assaulted her senses, her little feet kicking desperately in her carved wooden shoes, battering uselessly on the steel plates of his armor. Thoughts of whose blood it was crossed her mind—there were none in the village whom she did not know—but fear for her own life overrode even those thoughts as one mighty gauntleted hand grabbed the front of her coarse dress and began to tear. Her coif was ripped away, letting her red-blonde hair spill out across the forest floor, warm brown eyes wide with fear as her blouse soon followed, cloth shredding away on spiny, blood-soaked gauntlets, iron fists that must have been used to pummel hapless victims in his fury rather than offering them the quick death of his blade. Her struggles were in vain, unable to defend her chastity when the last of her clothing had been torn away, her skin streaked with red, scratches here and there from the spiked gauntlets mingling with the ruddy hand prints that the berserker left on her in his pawing. She felt like she would be sick; her legs shook beneath her as she reeled, barely able to stand upright. Thrown roughly against the trunk of the nearest tree, she felt the breath knocked out of her, unable even to scream as the red knight tore off his armored codpiece, opening rough britches to reveal an erection as strong and raging as the berserker himself. Pounding her back against the tree again, he slammed his shaft into her, tearing her open around him with the viciousness of his first thrust, a bestial roar in his throat. With berserker's strength he gripped her, his gauntleted fingertips digging into the soft skin of her upper arms until they bled little red streams down to her slender hands, the ruby flows matched by diamond ones as the girl wept bitterly, sobbing with pain and terror as the beast in man's clothing hammered into her, frothing and growling in a maelstrom of rage and lust. It wasn't like being taken by a rejected lover or a rough and rowdy drunk, it was something far worse. The man in the red-stained armor was in the throes of berserker madness, primed to destroy all in his path, and the savage blows of his hips against hers, the clawing of his iron-clad hands, the impersonal snarls of hatred, all attested to that. The pleasure he got from fucking her was secondary to the pleasure he got from destruction in the haze of his bloodlust, her joints creaking from the abuse as she was slammed between his armored body and the tree again and again, the rough bark chafing and tearing the soft skin of her back. His gauntleted hand struck her face with the heel of his palm, the leather side of the gauntlet bringing out violet bruising, and she squinted up at him in disbelief, black-eyed and slack-jawed from the blow. The vision of her remaining eye reeled, blood trickling from her nose as she lolled in his grip. Had he struck her with the metal side of his spiny gauntlets, he might have been fucking a corpse; had her mind been clearer she might have wondered if he would care. Her small breasts fared worse, punched until they were bruised and bloody, the agony of one of her ribs being cracked making her scream out into the still air, body writhing between the tree trunk and the incorrigible hulk of the berserker. She was battered by the storm of his raging passions, every deep thrust hammering the ceiling of her cunt as his hands clawed and beat at her, knocking her breath away, little body jarred and jostled under powerful fists. Finally they seized her shoulders so tightly that she could hear the bones there groan and crack, new constellations of pain exploding in crimson light across her darkened vision. Trembling, she tried to speak, an incoherent, pleading babble, as senseless as he was, though in defeat rather than rage. She just wanted the pain to end, to wake up from this fiery nightmare of flesh and fury. He'd stopped hitting her with his armored fists, at least, but she was already a canvas of violet and cream, her bruised eye squinting at him, full lip glossed with a trickle of saliva as she gibbered for mercy, her hair flailing as he bounced her body against his. Her piteous whimpers were met by roars and grunts that barely sounded human, the berserker's eyes gleaming wildly through the small openings in his red-smeared helm. The smell of her blood reached him and he let out a crazed rumble of pleasure, pounding his savage cock into the girl even harder in his excitement, her limbs slack now, fluttering like those of a ragdoll each time his hips struck hers. Finally, his body tensed, and he gripped her shoulders more tightly, grinding the cracked bones in his grasp as his cock erupted great jets of his hot seed deep into her womb, each splash shooting forth with vehement fury as he let out a horrible, bestial roar of triumph into the still air, drowning out the girl's incoherent sobs. His climax fading, the warrior slumped, shuddering and gasping in breath, a marionette with cut strings. For one moment, just one, the girl though she saw some light of reason in the red knight's eyes as she gazed up at him through her haze of pain and terror, some thread of calm as the echo of his orgasm lingered. Just for one moment, he looked to her like a man rather than a monster. Then he snarled once again, his muscles once more finding their steel, and heaving the hapless peasant girl over his head with both strong hands, he flung her like an obstacle in his path down the nearby gully, her hair whirling as she rolled and bounced, taking jostles and bruises, not even crying out as the stumps and stones of the forest terrain battered her. The berserker growled and watched the girl's body as she tumbled down the slope, bleeding and bruising, but when she reached the bottom and lay still, his interest was broken and he did not delay to check if she was alive or dead. Howling to the smoke and ash laden sky, he ran off like a mad beast, not bothering to re-affix the codpiece or neaten his gear, perhaps making his way back to his brethren right away, perhaps simply wandering until the madness wore off. For the girl it mattered not. It mattered only that he left, and with his going, the last gust of the storm of steel and raging men had blown past, leaving the crackle of dancing flames over the village, and silence in the gully where the girl lay alone, the bright light of cheer in her wide eyes burned out, replaced with the gleam of crystal tears as she stared blankly up into the cold grey sky, her smooth skin painted in red. ======