The Telemachus Story Archive

Sir Tristran Auberge
Part 6 - Epilogue
By Kyle Cicero

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Sir Tristan Auberge: A Templar tale

By Kyle Cicero

Another rather longer tale ‘from the vaults’ of stories that have not yet appeared on the Net.

Part 6. Epilogue

Months later, knightly representatives from Tristan’s kingdom came to the stronghold of their enemy to seek to ransom their best knight from the invaders. Quietly they were ushered into the presence of the enemy overlord to discuss the matter.

As they entered the “throne room” they were shocked by what they saw. There seating on a high chair sat the Saracen lord. He was naked except for the helmet he wore that was instantly recognizable as the very one Tristan always wore in battle. Even more electrifying in amazement to the men was the presence of an equally naked Tristan who was situated sideways on the floor in front of the Saracen. Around his neck was a collar with an attached length of chain that the Saracen lord held lightly in his hands. Wrist shackles cuffed the Templar’s strong arms behind him. To their further horror, he was on his knees abjectly bowing his head down onto a footstool as if in a supplicant’s position in front of the Saracen. The mightily muscular lord had one bare foot pressing down on the handsome young warrior’s neck clearly demonstrating his dominant position with regards to his former foe. The sight of their young hero so shamefully displayed in such an obscene setting profoundly shook the military men.

What surprised them even more was the look of bliss on Tristan’s features. It was as if he was contentedly unconcerned to be seen like this. As the men took in the sight of his muscular body submissively bent in obedience, they also noticed the bright reddish hue to the knight’s firm round rear-end. The Saracen saw them staring at Tristan’s bruised rump. With a slight smile he gently reached down to give a series of playful slaps to Tristan’s exposed butt-cheeks.

“Yes,” hissed Tristan lowly as each whack landed. “More please,” he whimpered.

The stunned men heard and saw all this with horror. They were even more disgusted to detect a barely noticeable erection that Tristan began to exhibit shamelessly in front of them which was almost, but not quite, hidden behind one of his powerful thighs.


“I have been informed that you come for my sex slave, Tristan,” the Saracen chuckled to the dumbstruck men. “Do you wish that, Tristan?” he asked seductively to the bound strapping warrior now submissively bend under his foot. As he spoke, he patted the bruised rear of his captive Templar. “Do you wish to leave my service as my personal sex slave?”

“No master. I wish to stay with you and continue to experience the joys of servicing your manhood,” Tristan unhesitatingly replied.

The kingdom’s representatives could not speak. Such was their utter surprise at what they had just observed and now heard.

“There is your answer,” the Saracen lord barked. He gazed down with affection at Tristan. “So as you wish, so will it be. You will be marked with my proof of ownership.”

The knights were transfixed as Tristan rose and walked with the Saracen ruler to the nearby fireplace. The Saracen lord reached for a metal rod that lay in the flames and pulled it free. At the other end of the shaft was a circle with the letter “H” inside it. He placed the hot branding rod to the left thigh of Tristan who never flinched at the touch of the metal on his flesh. “You now are mine, my brave slave,” the lord stated. As he heard those words, Tristan uttered a loud groan and ejaculated. The Saracen ruler pointed to the spunk puddle in front of Tristan. The young knight instantly dropped to all fours and lowered his head to lap up his cum. The Saracen ruler turned to the men. “Now go and tell your people what you have seen today.

With these words ringing in their ears, they were escorted out. When two of the military men looked back they saw Sir Tristan, their greatest warrior hero, kneeling before his “owner” blissfully sucking the Saracen ruler’s erect cock. The vision of this activity horrified them.

When the representatives reached home, word of what they had seen and heard at the Saracen’s throne room raced first throughout the court, then the entire country. A wave of demoralization overcame the population. If their greatest knight was now content to service the Saracen as his bitch, what hope was there in further resistance? After a few weeks the kingdom sued for terms of surrender. They placed themselves under the over lordship of the Saracen and peace came to all.

For Sir Tristan Auberge these future events no longer held any relevance. He spent his days now happily in the sexual thrall of his master servicing him both orally and anally whenever required. The two fought side by side in battle as fiercely as before but no longer did Tristan see himself as some noble strutting warrior vowed to a chaste life of battle.  Rather he reveled in his now totally accepted role of a contended sexual submissive to his powerful prince, owner, master and lover, Hathor.

The End