Message-ID: <26851asstr$971482206@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: VBwrites@aol.com X-Original-Message-ID: <7e.b77c070.2718a82d@aol.com> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Subject: {ASSM} RP:Another Dark Knight(MF, Fantasy, not much sex)(ViragoBlue) Date: Fri, 13 Oct 2000 20:10:06 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, dennyw Author's Note: I'm reposting this story, an entry from last year's Fantasy Train compilation, only because it happens to be one of my personal favorites. Why? I have no idea. It was just one of those stories that poured out easily and I had a lot of fun with it. Enjoy . . . Another Dark Knight (c)1999 by Virago Blue It still happened to Viv on occasion. "It" being something Viv always called the switch. She'll be living her normal, quiet all-American life one moment and with little warning she gets sucked into the other realm to live out an adventure as her alter ego-Virago Blue. A quick explanation: Virago Blue is a pseudonym Viv uses when writing. Virago Blue is also a fantasy character Viv developed a long time ago, her alter ego. Viv's past life never ended, at least as far as she can tell. A glitch in the system or a joke played on her by the powers that be, she never understood exactly why she would get thrown into an alternate reality. Virago Blue's life circle never closed, she surmised, before Viv began her current life. Her two life circles overlap and the conflicting times have worried a tear in the fabric. Therefore, Viv slips through on occasion. Viv's life is strange but it has never been boring. Her parents used to say, "That's our little Viv. One big imagination that one has. She'll be famous one day." Of course, they didn't imagine she would be telling her stories to a bunch of strangers on the Internet. Her children do not know yet, although sometimes she fears they suspect something is different about their mother. Her husband knows. He deals with it quite well. He thinks she's cute, quirky and creative. Viv's husband, her soulmate, is the same man she fell in love with back then. Of course, he doesn't remember his past life as Lord Peerce since that life circle closed for him. So, let's back up. Viv never knows when she will be sucked into the alternate reality. This time it happened over dirty socks . . . *** "Damn. How does this happen?" Viv tossed another lone sock into the odd sock basket. At least eleven dejected little socks in various states of wear and tear pout up at her from the basket. "Don't you worry, boys, I'll find your mates. They can't just walk off. Ha!" Viv tromped up the stairs, knowing her offspring must be hiding the mates somewhere among their action figures, toy cars and soccer paraphernalia. Kicking a cheap looking carnival toy leprechaun out of the way, she lowered to her knees and peered into the dark recesses under one child's bed. "Aha! Just as I thought." Another pathetic little sock stared back at her from beneath a pile of discarded Batman underwear, coloring books and dust bunnies. She crawled deeper under the bed, wedging herself tightly within the confines of the dusty darkness and sneezed. "Achoo!" "Got it." Viv backed out from the cramped quarters and stood quickly, her discovered booty clutched to her chest. The room quickly darkened as infinite black and white stars threaten her vision. With a thud and a "Bloody hell!" she fell to the floor, the black stars having won the battle. *** "I said, get out of my way before you lose an appendage, you creepy little green man." Virago sneers down at the overzealous leprechaun. "Not until you let me give you a gift." The little green man smiled evilly, patting the noticeable swell beneath the leather apron. "I'll take your little shoemaker's hammer and shove it up your arse if you don't leave me alone. You've already ruined my chaps with your spillage and I didn't bring any spares." Virago pushed past the nasty creature. "C'mon, pussycat, kiss my blarney stone." The dagger strapped to her thigh was burning into her skin. She was itching to release it from the studded sheath and pummel the tiny clover-humper to a slimy pulp. Something about the little man made her shudder. It could be the resemblance to the village cleric or maybe it was the sickly green pallor of his skin. After two days of no sex, Virago was near the breaking point. If the little elf didn't get out of her way soon she feared she may start humping one of those pointy ears. For now she chose to avoid him. "Listen, Lucky or whatever your name is, even a small thorn causes festering, you would do well to keep that in mind." She tried not to snicker but the temptation was overwhelming. He stood, mouth agape, and if it were possible for a little green man to turn red with rage, he did. "You bitch, you slut, you whore." "I try, I really do." "May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind and illegitimate children chase you so far over the hills of damnation that the Lord himself can't find you with a telescope!" The leprechaun sputtered in outrage. "Yeah, sure, fine, whatever. See you in the dining car, stretch." Virago waved him off and slipped through the door of one car into the next, the creak of leather and jangle of chain mail following behind. She never saw the evil little grin on the leprechaun. *** "Oh . . . " Virago breathed. The nameless man strained. " . . . my . . . " "It's coming." He strained more. The veins bulged in his arms and neck. " . . . Goddesses!" Virago cried out. "Almost, Senorita." His large, work-callused hands gripped tighter. "Oh my Goddesses, Oh my Goddesses, Oh my Goddesses! Pull it out!" Virago shrieked, still not believing the situation she was in this time. "Wait . . . " He shifted his weight to add leverage. It didn't help. The carriage driver relented with a shake of his head. "My apologies, Senorita. I just can't get a good enough grip. It's too slippery." He took a step back from the mess. "That hole is too deep." His chest heaved as he swiped at the beads of sweat on his forehead. Virago paced, quietly cursing the deep rut in the road. That evil little leprechaun was behind this. Just wait until I get back on that train, she thought. "I cannot miss the train. I must be in the village in three hours. How far is it from here?" Her eyes fixed on the desolate landscape and empty horizon. Yellow dust already coated the carriage. "Too far for a lady to walk. I will unhook the mule and ride into town for help. It could be days before another carriage passes through here. Do not worry, Senorita." The driver smiled uneasily behind his thick mustache. "You will be fine if you remain in the carriage." "Sure. Fine. Whatever. Just kick the mule into a quicker stride, por favor?" Virago hiked up her voluminous skirts and disappeared into the carriage. The carriage was dusty and dark, but at least the view of the sun setting on the plains eased her aggravation for a few moments. The dress was confining and odd. She hated dresses. Undoubtedly the leprechaun had a hand in outfitting her in this way. A warrioress never wears a dress. All the fabric just gets in the way. How could she possibly straddle a horse in this silken contraption? Despite the cushions on the carriage seat, she still fidgeted. The neckline of the plum-colored bodice dipped dangerously low to reveal an excessive amount of cleavage and creamy skin. She straightened the skirt and crossed her long, muscular legs. "There now. Perhaps I can pass for a debutante." Her 'harrumph' was cut short by the sound of thundering hooves and the tinkling of chain. She tried to pull her sword out from under her seat, ready to do battle with whatever would come through the door. "Whoa, Hurricane, whoa." The deep timbre of the male voice raised something within the woman Virago. Surely if he was trying to sneak up on the carriage for some awful purpose he would not feel the need to speak to his horse? Virago knelt on the floor. Her sword and scabbard remained stuck beneath the seat. The door flew open and crashed against the carriage. A large, dark figure loomed over her, blocking any light from the passage. His legs were long and sturdy, hips narrow and filled out to a muscled chest visible beneath the open laces of his black silk shirt. His dark, wavy hair moved in the slight breeze. Virago was the perfect picture of distressed damsel. Wavy gold locks strayed across her eyes and slid over her arm, barely concealing the ample bosom which now jiggled as she attempted to dislodge her sword. She held her tongue. For the moment. "Fear not, fair lady, for I have come to carry you to safety. I am the Dark Knight, avenger of do-bads and naughty deeds, and the unknown masculinity every woman of good taste and fair fortune craves." He held his gloved hand out to her, one booted foot in the carriage, his black satin cloak waving in the evening breeze. "Oh, wonderful." Virago said with a hint of sarcasm. "Your middle name wouldn't happen to be Stormy, would it?" Virago brushed back her hair in annoyance and studied the pompous prick. He stepped back from the shadows and she was able to get a clearer view of his features. He stood tall and proud, hands on hips and chin jutted in the air as he studied her. His deep brown eyes studied her. For a moment she melted. Something inside her begged for a little release, a little touch, a little press of the thigh. There was something about this tall, dark and handsome stranger that made her want to forget her problems for the moment and engage in a little recreational fuck. Just to ease her stress. "It's you!" The Dark Knight exclaimed, reaching beneath his cloak. "So. You've heard of me, then? What can I say, except---" Virago froze as he thrust his weapon in her face. She studied his blade with curiosity. Never had she seen such a thin shaft and smooth guard. The absurdity of the situation suddenly struck her as funny. "You call that a sword? You couldn't cause too much damage with that sickly thing. Now THIS is a sword." Virago released her own weapon from its sheath and brandished it over her head with both hands. "Eh? What do you think? Sturdy and thick with the power to split you in two, that's my Ghelda." Dark Knight sneered and wiggled his sword about her face and chest. She felt the tip lightly skim her bodice. With an exasperated sigh she struggled to her feet, tripping over the dreaded skirt. Without warning, her bodice slipped from her body, as did her sleeves. The waist band was ripped in two causing the rest of the dress to fall apart at her feet. Virago was left standing in nothing but a thin undergarment which left very little to the imagination. "So. Size does not matter after all." Virago stepped over the remains of her dress and pushed past tall, dark and heroic. "Let's get on with it. Rescue me already. But, mind you, I'm not one to go around feigning the damsel in distress routine. It just isn't my style. But if it makes you happy, I'll pretend just for the two of us." "You! You are the Fuken Whore! The thief of hearts, the woman who feeds off a man's strengths and milks him dry, you are the virility snatcher!" Dark Knight sputtered angrily. "Oh please. I've been called many things but never a virility snatcher." A hiss rendered the air followed by a loud crack. Virago froze in her tracks as the tail end of a black leather whip snaked around her ankles. "I don't do pain, Don Diego. But if you promise to make it all better I'll see what I can do." "You are under arrest. What you say to me, even in private, will be used against you in the court of the Commandant. Don't say I didn't warn you. Mount up." Dark Knight smirked salaciously. Even behind the black mask she could see his eyes traveling the hills and valleys of her landscape. Perhaps Dudley Do Right had a weakness. "Mount . . . up? Then can I go down? Perhaps we can come to some type of arrangement here." Virago smiled at her own weak joke. "What kind of an arrangement do you propose?" "I'll do anything you want. Anything. All you have to do is deliver me to my friends in the next village. We have a train to catch." Dark Knight was thinking, she could tell. All superheroes rub their chin with their gloved and gauntletted hand while thinking. "No. I do not wish to end up as the others." He quickly scooped her up and dumped her roughly on the back of the black stallion and mounted behind her before she could wriggle away. His steely arm wrapped around her waist. His free hand captured the leather reins. Virago repositioned herself in the saddle. She pulled the chemise up around her waist to allow her legs more freedom astride the beast. Unintentionally, she revealed the dagger she kept strapped to the inside of her thigh. The moment he noticed her dagger, she felt his arms grip tighter about her waist. She bucked viciously against his hard chest, slamming the back of her titian-tressed head into his chin. He bit back a curse. The black steed pawed the ground as the two strong-willed and hard-bodied legends struggled in the saddle. "I see you come prepared for your battles." Dark Knight huskily whispered near her ear. "I always carry protection." Virago wiggled her hips back against his thighs. His hands gripped her waist and lifted her from the hard leather. Dark Knight jerked Virago to face him. He was much stronger than he looked for Virago was no waif. She held still for the moment. Her breasts tingled as he pulled her to his broad chest. The pale nipples reflexively hardened when they brushed against the thin silk of his shirt made warm by his skin. She knew he felt her arousal, just as she felt his. Virago lifted her unsheathed dagger and touched the tip to the tender spot just beneath his outrageously handsome cleft chin. "Now, my dark and careless Knight, you will bring me to the village. I have a train to catch." Virago shifted in the saddle, pulling one leg over to straddle the trunk-like thighs of the Dark Knight. She pressed a hand to his chest, slowly sliding it down until she reached the stony package between his legs. A smirk cut across his delicious lips. She arched a slender blonde brow . Her azure gaze challenged his passion-filled brown eyes as she caressed his rock-hard manhood. With the expertise a woman of her nature has perfected, she released his most dangerous weapon from its trouser sheath and stroked it with reverence. "Let's ride." He nudged Hurricane into a trot. She tightened her grip on Dark Knight. Virago wrapped her thighs around his waist and lifted her undergarment to expose her musky wet sex. She lifted her hips and impaled herself on his thick shaft. The movement of the horse did the rest. With each strike of hooves to the ground Virago plunged down his proud rod only to rise back up, arching her back in ecstasy. The Dark Knight, broad of shoulder and thick of head, had heroic stamina. Through sweat, dust and moonlight, they rode. And rode. And rode. The third orgasm left Virago so weak, the dagger tumbled from her grip. Dark Knight only smiled. Suddenly they were upon a well lit tavern. Dark Knight dismounted, bringing his prisoner with him. He strode purposefully and proudly into the cantina, dragging Virago behind him. "Compadres, I have captured the Fuken Whore. She tried to work her feminine wiles on the Dark Knight but she did not succeed. I am immune to her type of sport. She is a wanton hussy. Be careful not to get too close. She bites." Virago rolled her eyes, finally catching a glimpse of Shon and Maria. John was in a darkened corner with a Spanish vixen explaining the advantages of tacos and trains. "Well met my friends, 'tis about time my woebegotten form graces the company of such esteemed companions." A cantina patron, while studying Virago's legs, looked up and remarked something undoubtedly humorous to the crowd. "Maria, what did he say? I seem to have lost my magic translation card." Virago asked. "He said you sound strange, almost purple." Maria answered, hiding a laugh behind her hand. Virago sighed, balling up her fist and delivering a staggering right hook to the commentator. He fell to the ground with a groan. A commotion clattered through the door. A man of pleasing features pushed a blond woman to the front of the crowd. "It is her. I caught her, um, red-handed. The Fuken Whore!" The whole room turned to gawk, an audible gasp rising from Shon, Virago, Maria and John. "But that's----" "Denny? Denny is that you? And who is that woman? And, and, . . . oh . . . bloody . . . 'ell." Virago sneezed. *** Viv stirred on the bedroom floor after the sneeze. A phone was ringing. She crawled to the table by the bed and grabbed the phone. "What is it?" Viv spewed. "Honey? You okay?" Viv's husband asked. "Mmmmhmmm . . . yeah yeah, fine. What's up?" Viv waited for her husband's answer while picking a Lego from her face. Apparently it got stuck to her cheek when she fainted. "Great. Now I'm going to have a lego bruise. What a bitch." "Huh? What? Oh, I just heard that Pamela Anderson Lee had her implants removed. Can you imagine? I wonder what she looks like now? Suppose she'll get anymore acting jobs? Heh...breasts or not, I have a newfound respect for her after seeing that Tommy Lee video." Her husband gushed on and on about Ms. Lee, continuing his mid-day chat as usual. "The Fuken Whore." Viv said, holding back another sneeze. "Whoa. Honey. That's a little harsh, don't you think? "Nevermind." Viv replaced the phone on the receiver. She caught a glimpse of the ugly little carnival toy leprechaun that always gave her the creeps. It seemed to be sneering at her. She grabbed its pointy ear between two of her fingers and brought it downstairs with the laundry. The kids won't miss this mean little guy, she thought, closing the lid on the trash can. She continued matching pathetic little socks, wondering at the sore wetness between her legs. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+