Fresh or chilled

With his body almost on the verge of utter exhaustion, Valentinus, the Saxon knight, was on the stone road, eager to reach his destination, his home, and the arms of his beloved Brenda; for more than four years, since he had left for battle, he had not known what peace was, much less the relief of a longing that consumed him day after day. Valentinus needed to rest, to recover from the suffering and pain that had devastated his body, his soul and his mind.
But now it was near, very near; one more day's journey, and he would be home. His warhorse grinned as if he understood his master's anxiety. Valentine stroked the neck of his saddle and looked out over the horizon, watching the mantle of night advance inexorably from sunset to sunrise, covering the world and life with its darkness.
Valentinus interrupted his ride, pondering that he needed to find a place to spend the night, awaiting the dawn of a new day, the last day that separated him from his home and his loved ones.
Brilliance, the mare, snorted, shaking her head; Valentine leaned over her trying to soothe her and saw what was making her nervous; a small fickle glow could be seen at some distance. It would probably be a dwelling. Valentine was intrigued by the possibility of there being someone living in such an isolated and distant place from everything, but his body, his stomach, and especially, the agitation of his mare, were reasons enough to convince him to follow to that place.
Marching at a certain speed, he soon reached his destination; it was a small shack, in the interior of which was seen a glowing glow, indicating a burning fire. Valentius got off his horse and walked to the door of rotten wood; before knocking, the door opened as if it had its own will.
The huge Saxon warrior lowered his head, bent down to enter the miserable dwelling. It was very simple, careless, but strangely inviting and cozy. There was a wooden table, two chairs and a small cot made of straw and leather.
In the farthest corner, one could see the fire, surrounded by stones with a metal base from which hung a cauldron that exuded an appetizing smell, inciting the nostrils and the stomach of the Saxon, who had not known what good food was for a long time.
Sitting in a corner near the fire, a curved figure with its head covered stirred the contents of the cauldron with a kind of wooden spoon. Without turning to the visitor, the figure, with a decrepit female voice, denouncing herself to be an old woman, invited him to sit down and share the food being prepared.
Weakened by hunger, and eager to satisfy her, Valentius did not pretend to be a beggar, but sat down at the table and waited for the delicacy to be prepared. Still without showing his face, the old woman served a deep dish of clay, where the deliciously fragrant stew was smoked. And while the knight sated his enormous hunger, the hostess offered to feed his mount as well, which was accepted amid inaudible grunts of a hungry man.
Satisfied, Valentinus felt an unusual fatigue take hold of him, as if the voracious feeding awakened all the exhaustion his body had retained since the beginning of his return home. Incontinentially, he got rid of the leather armor, collapsing on the bed of straw and hide, falling asleep at once.
It was a deep sleep, almost lethargic, that left the knight lifeless, breathing slowly and the body relaxed. His mind, even clouded by sleep, traveled through a dream world, in which he and his beloved found each other again and gave themselves to an unbridled love full of desire.
Valentinus seemed to feel the naked body of his beloved in his arms, caressing the form and exuberance of his beloved, the most delightful of the females he had ever known in his life. An exultant excitement took possession of his body, exposing in the flesh what mind and desire experienced in the world of dreams.
Suddenly, what had been a dream was transformed into a hellish nightmare; Brenda had been torn from her arms and reduced to an ethereal form, imprisoned in a gleaming glass cage; helpless and desperate, the young woman struggled against her imprisonment, eager to get out of it, but her attempts were futile, only serving to heighten her despair and fear of what might happen to her.
In the next moment, Valentine caught a glimpse of the glittering cage hanging from the claw of a disgusting being, whose body was a mixture of human and beastly forms, with huge horns that burned like eternal flames to the sound of the wails of souls creaking within it. With his mind caught up in the image of his captive and helpless beloved, Valentine entered into a mixture of despair and unbridled fury, and this caused him to be brought back to reality, not just by his own will, but by the will of someone with power greater than himself...
Screaming like a wounded animal, Valentine leaped, trying to get up, but being prevented from doing so; he was naked and chained to the bed which was now no longer a simple cot but a block of hard, cold rock, just as the place was no longer the miserable shack he had glimpsed in the distance; Valentine was a dimly lit, damp and foul-smelling rock cell.
Still seized by despair, he struggled to free himself from the shackles that bound his feet and hands ..., and before he could proceed in his vain effort, the cell door opened, flooding the interior with an intense white light. Slowly, an amorphous silhouette was emerging and growing, invading the environment and walking with resolute steps.
Accustomed to the intense glare of the light that hurt his eyes, Valteno was able to discern that the silhouette had a human form. He thought that it was the old woman who had received him and who had become his executioner ... but, in the next moment, he found that it was not her.
Delicate hands emerged, removing the hood that covered the visitor's head, revealing a most beautiful woman, with pale skin, deep black eyes, and long platinum-colored hair. She stared at the Saxon, whose core was vibrating in a very unusual way. Walking towards her, the woman opened the cloak that covered her, letting him slide along her body, displaying his voluptuous and exuberant forms.
The unwary Saxon swallowed dry, seeing so much beauty in a woman! It was an exuberant beauty whose body most resembled a poem written by the greatest of poets, and her face was something that would drive any mortal mad. Walden, even chained, felt immensely attracted to this unknown woman, realizing an erection whose potency was something without equal.
The woman walked, in slow and measured steps, towards the Saxon, who was still struggling against the shackles that bound him, but with an intention totally divergent from the former. He felt a shiver run through his body at the moment when the strange hostess touched his member with her warm and soft hand. It seemed that she had possessed him through his hard member, and all his will was undermined, leaving him at the mercy of the wills of that stranger.
With unexpected boldness, she sat on the knight's belly, still holding in her hand his stone-hard limb; and the next instant she drove him toward his vagina, descending upon him with a single, vigorous movement. Valentine, for the first time in his life, felt possessed, as if she controlled everything around him, including his will.
Leaning on the Saxon's broad chest, the woman bent down enough to offer him her stuffy nipples, as she made her pelvis and waist rise and fall over the male member in a sexual session driven by her will. Valentine instinctively sought out his partner's nipples, sucking them with the voracity of a hungry man.
The sex between them was intense, feverish, but always under the control of the female, as if the male were her object; her face exhibited an enigmatic expression, sometimes feminine, sometimes domineering, but always in command of everything that happened. And she delighted in the state of enslaved excitement of the Saxon who acted like an animal trained only to fuck without knowing limits.
After a long time, a time that Valteno was unable to measure, his unknown partner experienced a sequence of orgasms that seemed to multiply to the point that she almost fainted, although this did not happen, because in the next moment she resumed the movements in a frantic way.
Time passed like a breath of wind without end, and Valteno could no longer control his impetuosity, feeling the joy surge all over his body ..., but the stranger noticed this physical movement of her partner, and, once in a while, stopped the movements keeping the member buried in her bowels, nibbling it with her vaginal lips, controlling the orgasm of her partner.
This was repeated several times; so many times that the Saxon no longer had control over his own will; it was she who controlled everything!
"Do you long for your beloved, Saxon?" she asked in a hoarse but firm voice.
Unable to answer on account of his hoarse breathing, Valentinus merely shook his head in affirmation.
Without showing any emotion, the woman sat on top of the rider and with a gesture of one of her hands raised the golden cage in the air, where the beloved Brenda could be seen.
Between the animalistic desire that overwhelmed him and the tender sight of his beloved imprisoned in a glittering cage, Valentine despaired. "What are you going to do with her?" he wanted to know, struggling to utter the question.
"I don't want her, you idiot!" replied the woman, whose expression was one of scorn. "You're the one I want!"
"What do you want from me?" asked the astonished knight.
-I want your soul! <unk> she replied with a malicious smile <unk> Well, your body is already mine! You already belong to me ..., surrender ..., bow to me, and Brenda will be spared ..., otherwise ...
She did not finish the sentence; she turned her gaze to the cage and breathed softly; before her eyes, Valentine saw Brenda slowly succumb, as if her vital energy were sucked from her body, until only an empty and fragile "shell" remained.
-No, please! <unk> he pleaded, almost forcefully <unk> I'll do whatever you want ..., anything ..., but please spare my sweet girl!
With a snap of her fingers, the cage disappeared into the air; the woman bent over her slave again and resumed pelvic movements, experiencing even more orgasms ..., finally, she intensified the movements, until Valentine violently ejaculated.
It was a strange delight..., it was as if, with each gush of semen, part of her vital energy flowed into the body of that diabolical woman..., and when it was all over, she stood up, gazing proudly at the flaccid member of her timely slave.
-Then we have a deal, Saxon! - she said, in a soft and calm voice - You belong to me from now on forever ..., your body and your soul are mine ..., and don't even think about breaking our agreement, because for me, Brenda is just another victim to be sacrificed.
As she walked away, Valentinus, panting, wondered what would become of him.
- Tomorrow morning, you will leave, towards your home <unk> she replied <unk> At the opportune time, I will come to you, so that you serve my purposes ...
- But who are you anyway? - he wanted to know with a cruel curiosity.
"I am the devil!" she replied, followed by a ghostly laugh. "I am your private devil, Saxon. You serve me, and I serve my Lord. That's all you need to know.
Suddenly, seized by an unexpected torpor, Valentinus saw his eyes close involuntarily, while his whole body was taken over by an overwhelming lethargy..., the last image that remained in his mind, was of the demon woman, who, now, had in her power the body and soul of the Saxon ..., and nothing else he saw, heard or felt, only a voice echoing in his mind:
"My name is Magdala..., remember that, Saxon..., Magdala is your mistress!"