Red Knight
by The Tome of Ebon: /~Tome_of_Ebon/
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Mar 19, 2011

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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

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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.

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