Chapter 0 - To Slay & Lay

Three figures stood in the moody, torch-lit corridor of the Vorester Inn. One a fair maiden called Lissam, the other her brother called Donald, dressed in her clothing. They argued with a barrel-chested bodyguard that had all the grace and features of a walrus – beard included. Lissam and Donald raged with the flame of argumentative passion at the portly man.
 
“Sir, we’ve walked miles to see Sir Layton,” pleaded Lissam, “Please don’t let our trek go to waste. All my bro-sister desires are two autographs from her childhood idol. One for her and one for me. Please don’t deny us that.”
 
“Indeed,” agreed Donald. “I bring no harm, I only bring two sheets of parchment for the autographs and a couple of harmless questions for Sir Layton.” Donald pushed the papers forward like the bodyguard didn’t see them.
 
The bodyguard pushed the papers back. “How did you hear about Sir Layton’s coming?” inquired Sir Layton’s bodyguard. “Sir Layton maintains a low profile when traveling. I’m not exactly sure how two peasant sisters such as yourself could come onto such information. Explain.”
 
Donald answered, “A farmer from the nearby village told us. He said that Sir Layton was going to the capital for a tournament, and the capital is miles away from here, right? So we came to the conclusion that Sir Layton would need respite before moving on. We aren’t as cunning as you think, guard. We are just two poor girls who want two mere autographs.” Donald inwardly smiled as he maintained his feminine falsetto with ease. Maybe too easily?
 
“Very well, you look harmless enough – but listen well,” he bent over and stared into Donald’s emerald eyes, “I hear anything that sounds the least bit off and I’ll get the sheriff to string both of you up, peasant girls or not. Do I need to repeat myself?” The guard looked at Lissam. “You stay. Your sister goes.”
 
Donald gulped. “Not at all, sir” The guard moved aside and Donald hurried past the stout man and down the hallway.
 
Donald considered his burning shame a minor small sacrifice in the quest of meeting Sir Layton, the slayer of Vikstrom, the black dragon. With every movement came the gentle swish of his sister’s blue blouse and gray long skirt about Donald’s body, sending waves of embarrassment through his dainty body. A rumor that Sir Layton enjoyed answering the questions of young women was responsible for the scheme. As Donald touched the cold brass doorknob with a sweaty hand, he prayed those rumors were true and Layton’s eye were dull to his deceit.
 
Within the cozy room equipped with a desk, chair, curtained window, and bed, laid Sir Layton on the floor, performing crunches with mechanical efficiency. Donald had never seen many half-orcs in his lifetime due to his isolated upbringing, but Sir Layton was no doubt a prime specimen. Sweat glazed his dark green body. His abdominal muscles rippled with each powerful crunch. Donald watched in sheer adulation, pondering how much unfettered masculinity could be packed into one man.
 
Sir Layton did a few more crunches before he noticed Donald’s lingering, worshiping eyes. “Oh? Hello there,” Layton said as he got to his feet, scratching his dense black beard full of sweat. “I’m Sir Layton, hedge knight and dragonslayer. And you are?” Sir Layton’s voice boomed towards Donald, shaking him out of the staring.
 
“This, this, this – is amazing! I can’t believe I’m actually witnessing you in the flesh. I can say with full confidence that I am your biggest admirer, Sir Layton!”
 
Sir Layton smiled. “I get that a lot. Can you tell me your name or not, little miss?”
 
“I am Don – I mean – I am Dolly,” blurted Donald, and his shaky hands pushed the blank parchment paper towards Sir Layton. Donald imagined his sweat ruining the papers. “Could I please have your autographs, sir?”
 
Sir Layton looked at the parchment. “Isn’t that cute?” he said, stretching muscular arms over his head. “How far did it take you to get here, sweetheart?”
 
“It was an absolutely dreadful three miles from my village to here, but all is fine now. Could I have two autographs, please?”
 
“I’ll get to those, I promise,” said Sir Layton in a reassuring voice before walking to his bed and sitting down. “Why don’t you take a seat by me? You look tired, Dolly.” Sir patted the bedding besides him.
 
Donald’s face grew red and hot as his heart fluttered. This simply couldn’t be true! Almost stumbling on his skirts, Donald made his way over to the bed, plopping his bottom mere inches from Sir Layton. Donald’s hands were in danger of excitedly crumpling the paper like a fool.
 
“How’s the seat?” asked Sir Layton. “Comfortable, no? I paid a lot for a quality room like this.”
 
Donald struggled to find the words. “It’s… it’s an excellent place. My feet were quite tired from walking all day.” As Donald knitted his hands, he noticed the oppressive musk Sir Layton’s body order had; it was a dense, rich scent that dug claws into Donald’s nostrils with steely tips. It made him feel like he downed two cups of strong coffee. “May I ask you how your day has been?”
 
Sir Layton shrugged. “Not much,” he admitted. “I’ve been on the road towards Kallad for a few weeks now, so I decided to stop at this pleasant little inn for some respite, is all.”
 
“For the annual tournament?” asked Donald.
 
Sir Layton nodded. “Of course, dear.”
 
“Are you nervous at all?” Donald thought he noticed Sir Layton’s chestnut eyes wandering towards his skirts, but ignored the thought. “I’ve heard of men twice your size suffering grievous wounds during duels there.”
 
“And I’ve inflicted grievous wounds on men twice my size,” said Sir Layton before barking cruel laughter that shook Donald’s core. “Don’t you see my body and all it’s wonderful scars? It’s like a bodily record of my successes that all can gaze upon and touch - actually, would you like to?” Sir Layton laid out his hand, waiting for Donald’s to place his there.
 
Donald silently grasped before laying his small hand in Sir Layton’s large, sandpaper-rough palm. Now, this was surely a dream, but what dreams were tangible? He allowed Sir Layton to guide his hand. Donald’s fingers brushed against a canvas of dense muscle and crisscrossing scars of all sizes and shapes. He found himself absorbed in the chaotic masterpiece drawn with blades.
 
“Pretty, is it not?” asked Sir Layton with a softening look in his eyes. “Seeing it just isn’t enough for you, Dolly – I want you to taste it.”
 
“Come again?” asked Donald, stunned. Sir Layton removed Donald’s hand from his scarred torso, and inserted a finger into Donald’s open mouth. Donald opened his eyes wide at the sharp bite of salt and testosterone his finger provided. He removed his own finger. A tingling sensation pooled in his chest and stomach.
 
“How was my taste?” said Sir Layton in a husky voice, placing a firm hand on Donald’s yielding lower thigh. He started to slowly rub up and down the like the soft flesh.
 
Tingles like cold water ran up Donald’s slender back. “Nice,” he breathed, not realizing he was leaning in towards Sir Layton’s near magnetic sex appeal.
 
“How about a taste of this, too?” whispered Sir Layton, leaning his face towards Donald’s lips until they met in a soft, mutual kiss.
 
As they kissed, Sir Layton’s hand wandered to Donald’s crotch. Sir Layton’s grabbed a tight hold of the stiffness
 
After a gasp of pleasure and fear, Donald looked at Sir Layton’s face. The masquerade had been shattered. Sir Layton’s face started as a mask of dull confusion, and then quickly sharpened into one of pure rage. Donald opened his dry mouth to speak. “I can-“
 
Sir Layton pushed Donald to the floor and dashed for his sword in the corner. He sheathed the blade towards Donald’s defenseless form. “What is the meaning of this” grumbled Sir Layton in a hostile voice.
 
“Wait! I can explain everything!” Donald said with splayed hands outstretched towards Sir Layton. “I only wanted autographs. Please don’t hurt me.” He felt his heart beating the inside of his flat chest raw.
 
“What?” asked Sir Layton, visibly confused and enraged. “Explain your feminine garb – quickly.”
 
“I heard a rumor that your guard lets young women near you for autographs,” said Donald at a rapid pace. “I had a foolish idea that dressing up like this would get me autographs. I’m sorry – I’m so very very sorry.”
 
Sir Layton tilted his head and grimly laughed. “No apologies needed, but I think you need to work for your autographs now.” Sir Layton grabbed a leather belt off the floor. “Show me your hands,” Sir Layton ordered.
 
Donald offered his shaking hands with no resistance. 
 
“Stop shaking so goddamn much, will you? I have no reason to harm you. Yet.” Sir Layton tied Donald hands with the belt. After the tying, Sir Layton sat on his bed, a shape rising in his boxers. “Crawl to me,” he said. “Crawl to me on your knees, boyslut.”
 
Donald scooted his knees on the rough floor until he was between Sir Layton’s tree trunk thighs. Sir Layton unsheathed a twitching, green meaty prick with dark veins running through the nine-inch length. The aroma of sweat and masculine musk wiped Donald’s mind of clear thinking.
 
“Do you want those autographs?” asked Sir Layton, grabbing and wagging his cock back and forth like an erotic metronome in front of Donald. The tool reeked with lust in Sir Layton’s grip.
 
Donald nodded, yet eyes looked away from the beast in front of him. This was too much. Too fast. “The kiss was just a friendly thing, I swear on it. But this? I don’t want to do this.”
 
Sir Layton ignored Donald’s pleading. “Don’t look away, my little Dolly,” Sir Layton said the false name like it was snake venom on his tongue. “You already kissed my lips, now kiss this.”
 
Fighting against all the rational forces in his conflicted mind, Donald decided to peck the top of Layton’s dick with a gentle, cautionary kiss. He opened his mouth and licked the helmet all around, savoring the intense salty flavors of precum and sweat. Donald lowered his head and popped an inch of the dick into his mouth, allowing his tongue to prod the opening of Layton’s glans. This caused Sir Layton to groan, pleased at the mouthwork. Donald lifted his head upwards. Soft, submissive eyes made contact with Sir Layton’s hard gaze.
 
“More,” urged Sir Layton, easing Donald’s mouth back to his needy, blood-engorged cock with a firm hand behind his head. Sir Layton ruffled Donald’s golden locks. “No wonder you’re a blond. Your mouth is golden.”
 
Donald attempted to slide more of Layton’s meat into his mouth, but found himself choking instead. To avoid disappointing Layton, Donald began sliding his soft lips up and down Layton’s shaft, occasionally kissing a thick vein.
 
“I said more, boyslut,” Layton forced Donald’s mouth back on his cock and thrusted slightly. “Relax your throat and you’ll be fine, I promise,” assured Layton, ignoring Donald’s struggling.
 
Donald blinked hot tears out his eyes, attempting to relax his throat as Sir Layton indifferently fucked it. A hot mess of mucus and precum dripped down his chin mouth in sticky streams of slime. 
 
Layton bared his teeth at the stimulation, his erection twitching and growing harder and hotter in Donald’s tight throat. A few thrusts later, Layton pulled his dick from Donald’s mouth and unleashed great gobs of white across his tongue and face. Some semen managed to glaze even some parts of Donald’s hair.
 
He sighed heavily. “Atta boy, now swallow up all my seed. It’ll make you a better man,” said Sir Layton
 
Donald coughed heavily, but still consumed the semen with one head tilt. Maybe Sir Layton was right, for Donald felt the semen sloshing in his small stomach.
 
“Thanks for the foreplay. Now we get to the fun part.” Layton reached behind Donald and untied the belt that bit into his hands. Donald rubbed his wrists, their color an irritated red.
 
“Now stand and turn around, man milk drinker,” instructed Sir Layton with a twirling finger. He ripped Donald’s skirt down and sampled the smooth, peach-shaped buttocks with brisk shakes, grabs, and pinches. Smiling, he said, “Now this is an ass! I wonder how it handles a fuck.”
 
The frankness of Layton’s words made Donald’s face burn brighter than his wrists. Layton grabbed Donald’s hand and brought it to his slick member. The heat of  it seemed to burn Donald’s hand as he stroked away.
 
“Will this hurt?” whimpered Donald.
 
“Of course, but it will be delightful agony. Place your hole on my prick and you’ll see.” Layton placed his hands over Donald: One on top of Donald’s left shoulder, the other over the chest with erect nipples he pinched, causing Donald to suck air through gritted teeth. Layton eased his rod into Donald with a low, drawn-out moan. “Like a glove,” he whispered.
 
Donald’s penis went painfully rigid. Precum drooled from the tip. Shameful as it made him feel, a free hand went to the erection, satisfying its carnal desires with light strokes. The other hand went around Layton’s taut neck for support. With minimal hesitation, Layton buried his dick hilt-deep into Donald. “Gods above,” breathlessly said Donald, shivering. “Please go easy – please.”
 
“Maybe,” said Layton before easing halfway out. “Do you think of me when you masturbate?”
 
“What?” murmured Donald “No…”
 
Layton jerked back into Donald’s hole. “How about now?”
 
Donald balled his fists so tight the knuckles went white. “Yes!” howled Donald, “Yes! I will grow stiff at the mere mention of your name, Sir Layton.” Donald started to vigorously stroke himself.
 
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Layton said. “Now here’s your gift.” He started pounding thrusts into Donald. Hot flesh smacked against hot flesh. Donald’s bottom ripened red from Layton’s loins clapping into them as they produced a melody of perverse tones. 
 
Layton wiped sweat off his forehead, and resumed his steely grip on Donald.
 
A haze of pleasure crawled into Donald’s mind before it blanked, causing him to collapse onto the floor, legs feeble with pleasure and delicious agony.
 
Layton swiftly trailed Donald’s descent to the floor, and lifted his cherry-red ass up. He plunged into its tight depths once more, hands clawing into the sides of Donald the way one would handle a slab of raw meat.
 
Once he came to, Donald resumed his delicious task of jerking himself raw. “Your hands,” he huffed. “They’re so painful.”
 
“Quiet,” groaned Sir Layton. “You know you fucking love it. You love all of this. You’re nothing but a slut for the pain I give.”
 
In his heart, Donald admitted it was true. The way Sir Layton bashed into his prostate was simply divine. Donald’s gritted his teeth and jerked himself harder. “More…”
 
The crack of the door shattered Donald’s flesh-laced haze. He looked up to see Sir Layton’s bodyguard, walrus-like face full of shock.
 
“What is this, Sir Layton?” he huffed, “You greedy bastard, keeping that fine boy all to yourself.”
 
“I forgot,” retorted Sir Layton, still jabbing Donald’s prostate repeatedly. “He’s still got a hungry mouth, Mellor. You hungry for another cock, Dolly-boy?” 
 
Donald raised himself up on his arms. He displayed his slick mouth towards Mellor. 
 
Sir Layton grinned as he thrusted deeper this time. Donald arched his back, imagining the move was a gift for showing obedience. “Thank you,” he whispered.
 
Mellor discarded his trousers in an instant. He kneeled in front of Donald and crammed his swollen cock between Donald’s sticky lips. “My gods, he’s drooling for it,” said Mellor, sweating already. “What a mouth.”
 
Back and forth, Donald bounced between the men’s stiff cocks, mouth sucking and slobbering on Mellor’s hefty shaft while his behind entombed Sir Layton’s penis.
 
Mellor grabbed the back of Donald’s neck, enjoying the soft canvas of creamy skin. “From the moment I saw you, Dolly or whatever your real name is, I knew you were a boy, but I would never believe you were such a beautiful boy. That blouse fits you too well, I say.” Mellor slid his hand up to Donald’s hair. He seized the golden locks mingling between his fingers for purchase. “Fucking your mouth is like a dream, laddie.” Mellor’s free hand pinched one of Donald’s nipples hard enough to make him flinch.
 
Instead of a grandiose display of sexual prowess, Layton simply grabbed handfuls of Donald’s plush buttocks, and shot virile blasts of cum deep within. Inconspicuous inhales and exhales left Layton’s baking nostrils as he pulled out of Donald. 
 
Donald trembled as he felt rapidly cooling semen pour from his abused hole. He heard Sir Layton make his way back to sit on the bed – the wonderful bed! The recent memory prompted Donald to close his eyes, and imagine sucking off Sir Layton again.
 
Mellor removed his member from Donald’s mouth. He stroked himself to completion, and immense swaths of pearly ejaculate glazed Donald’s face and hair. His seed mingled with Sir Layton’s earlier mess. Delighted chuckles left Mellor’s lips as he smeared the seed with the glans of his penis across Donald’s flushed face. In a slight daze, Donald licked the head clean, making Mellor fading orgasm all the better for certain.
 
Mellor stood up and walked over to his pants. He tossed a thin handkerchief from his pants pocket to Donald.
 
“Clean yourself up, Dolly,” winking on the name.
 
Donald wobbled back to his feet. “Wait, where is my sister, Mellor?”
 
“I told her to wait in the dining room. She’s fine,” said Mellor as he put his pants back on.
 
“Do you have a pen on you, Mellor?” asked Layton, “This sweet thing needs his autographs.”
 
“Yessir,” he said, slipping a goose feather into Sir Layton’s hand.
 
Sir Layton imprinted his name upon the two sheets without a modicum of haste, and then motioned for Donald to get up and receive his well-deserved boon.
 
Donald looked at the sheets - a diminutive black heart dried on one slip of paper. “Thank you very much,” said Donald in a hoarse, overworked voice. He got back into his sister’s long skirt. As he turned to leave, Sir Layton gave Donald a curt slap on the ass, causing him to yelp in surprise.
 
“Thank you as well,” said Sir Layton, a roughish grin cut across his face. “Happy travels.”
 
“To you as well, Sir Layton.” Donald left the inn with a heart thundering from joy and a limp in his walk.