you've been getting on his last nerve lately. and that is something, for dunk is a very, very patient man. or so he's been told. praised for, even.
since finding work and looking for a strong lord or noble to tend to hadn't been going smoothly lately, he accepted one of the only offers for a job he had; guarding a wealthy merchant and his household as they traveled between holds and trade routes. it would be easy enough, dunk had though. all he had to do was stand tall, look fearsome, and keep blades away from the soft, perfumed throats of the family.
he had not accounted for you.
you, with your fine silks and sharp mouth. you, with your jeweled fingers and that chin always tilted up at him as though he is something you've scraped off the bottom of your slipper. your father warned him about you on his first day of hire. "my daughter is... spirited." he'd told dunk. you'd chased off all your last knights with your foul behavior. the money hadn't been worth it.
however, dunk had nodded earnest as ever, hands clasped behind his back, as he towered over the polished floors and high ceilings. spirited he could handle. he grew up in slums. he knows sharp tongues and hot tempers and wild children with no reins.
he's fearsome and domineering. servants scatter when he passes. guards keep respectful distance. stable boys stare at him as though he is some giant carved from oak and iron.
but upon his first interaction with you where he'd tried to introduce himself to you, you cut him off entirely as you stand dangerously close to him in the hall of your manor. "i don't care. you'll be just like all the rest. now move."
at first, he thought your horrible attitude was just a part of being raised wealthy and as the only daughter of your household. of course you were used to getting your way and treating the people around you like trash. you are young, surely. it was nothing but a poor first interaction; he has no wish to bully a nobleman's daughter.
you slip away from the convoy just to see if he'll notice, wander toward dark tree lines where bandits could lurk. you lean over bridge rails too far, and you talk to strange men in markets just to get a reaction out of dunk. every time he steps in, large form looming behind you as he catches your wrist just as you're about to touch a stranger and tells you, "that's enough, my lady," you laugh in his face.
"you don't command me, hedge knight."
the first time you spit on him is when he pulls you away from a man who's mouthing at your neck roguishly during a ball while you're too drunk to function. it landed on his cheek, dripping down slowly. he did not wipe it away immediately. he just looked down at you in disbelief.
you held his gaze, daring him. you are smaller than him by half, but you dare to challenge him either way. he'd never received training for a matter like this. "i told you, you do not command me. if you put your hands on me again, i will tell father to have one of your meaty fingers cut off."
he let you go. that was weeks ago. but you've made a sport of it since then, calling him an oaf, dog, brute, low-born. you toss orders at him in front of others. you complain about how he walks too close, is too big and clumsy, breathes too loud. you tell your fellow ladies that he smells of the stables and sweat, though he washes twice as often as any man in the company.
he's come to wonder if you do it for the fun of it or if you are simply seeking a reaction from him. because he notices the way your gaze turns expectant after you humiliate him. you do watch him quite a lot. when he removes his armor back in your manor after a long day, how you like to frequent the servant's quarters after dark, using the excuse of wanting a night snack from the kitchens... it's so suspicious. sometimes he wonders if he should take his cock out of his breeches and fist it while calling your name to see if you come running. but he doesn't.
dunk is not a clever man, but he is not blind.
still, he says nothing, because he is paid to guard your family, and you. and he doesn't want to sacrifice the pretty penny his father pays him to keep you in order to play with you.
until today. today, you slip away again. the road cuts through sparse woods, the afternoon light thin and golden. the caravan slows to navigate a narrow pass, and in that moment of distraction, you are gone. he can tell before he knows for sure. it's been too quiet. he rushes to scan the wagons and seek your fluffy head of hair, but nothing. "fuck." he curses roughly under his breath, stopping everything to search the area for you.
he finds you a quarter mile back, skirts gathered in your fists as you climb a moss-slick rock that juts above a shallow ravine.
"what are you doing?" his voice carries. "did you jump out of your seat for me to chase you?"
you don't even look at him. "i'm admiring the view, dunk. go away."
he grits his teeth and steps forward slowly, trying not to startle you or have you run away. "get down this instant. this isn't funny."
the rock shifts under your slipper, and dunk's heart lurches up into his throat. he reaches forward, hissing; "get. down."
you finally glance back at him, your lip curled in a sneer. "no. you are not my father. leave me be."
"no," he says tightly, "but i am the one who will have to tell him if you break your foolish neck."
you roll your eyes and turn away again, just as your foot skids on the slick rock and you slip forward, letting out a startled little yelp. dunk moves before your other foot even leaves the surface of the rock, massive hands clamping around your body as he drags you back against him forcefully, your soft body pressed up against his with his arm locked around your middle like a band of iron.
for a second, neither of you move. your heart is racing. he can feel it through the layers of silk and linen. "are you mad?" he growls directly in your ear.
once you gather your bearings, you start twisting around in his grip, being a little hellion once more as if he didn't just save your life. "unhand me!"
his patience, that endless, gentle well everyone praises, is dry. he is sick of you. "i do not trust you not to run off again! you could have fallen," he emphasizes.
"because i caught you. i am paid to guard you," he says angrily, holding you firm against him. "not to chase you like a stray hound every time you decide to prove you have no sense."
"well, i didn't call you a dog for no reason-"
you've never heard that tone from him. and for a heartbeat, you falter.
then your pride surges back, and you reach back and elbow at his chest. it's like pushing a wall. "do not speak to me so," you snap. "you are nothing but hired steel. you forget your place."
dunk clenches his jaw tightly and squeezes you a little tighter, trying to will you to shut your smart mouth. "and where's my place?" he demands.
"beneath me," you say sickeningly sweet, before aiming another rough blow to his chest, trying to get him to let you go. you wriggle around, trying again to throw him off you -
his arm bands around you tighter, and he lifts you clean off your feet as though you weigh nothing at all. "put me down!" you shriek, kicking uselessly. he ignores your babbling and in one smooth motion, tosses you over his shoulder. suddenly, you're staring at his broad back and the ground swinging beneath you, your hair falling down his spine, your quickly begin to pound your fists against his back.
"dunk!" you scream, scandalized. "how dare you! i will have you-"
"you will do nothing," he snaps, big hand clamping firmly against the back of your thighs to keep you steady as he strides toward the road, each step long and unyielding. "i am taking you back home. you do not deserve to be out galivanting today."
you twist, but he adjusts easily, unbothered by your struggle. "and then, you will apologize," he says, not looking back. "and you will stay exactly where i put you until you remember how to behave like a lady."
dunk's grip tightens just enough to remind you how completely at his mercy you are.and for the first time since he took this cursed job, he does not yield. you punch his back hard, wondering if you can sink your teeth into his back somehow, when his broad hand comes down hard against the curve of your backside. you jolt, a sharp, shocked squeal tearing from you as your whole body tenses and rocks forward.
dunk's heart beats a tad too fast. he did not plan to smack you, but it was instinct. a correction, like a farmer swatting a mule that won't stop kicking. but the way you reacted... indignation faltering into pure surprise, has heat spreading through his body. he centers his brain long enough to hear your shrill cries. "y-you brute!"
you start wriggling again even more frantically now, trying to twist around and hit him. so he does it again. another rough smack delivered to your ass. he watches the motion of your soft flesh rippling back into place after he spanks you, and that strange feeling of arousal fills him once more.
this time your hips jerk involuntarily, your hands clutching at his back for balance instead of striking him. he's quite satisfied by that. your arrogance has started cracking around the edges. as he walks, he spanks you periodically, each hit measured and deliberate, his large palm landing square and sure through layers of silk, the impact more than enough to sting. to humble.
your protests dissolve into breathless little mumbles of outrage, and your hands, which had been clawing and striking him, slide instead to grip the back of his tunic. your legs stop kicking. you are now limp over his shoulder as he returns you not by carriage, but on his steed with him to your manor.
dunk does not waste any time in carrying you through the grand doors, up the staircase, down the long hall toward your chambers where he can make his corrections. lucky for him, your father is nowhere in sight to be questioning why his trusted knight is practically dragging his daughter you her room.
dunk stops outside your room and shifts you carefully before opening the door with one hand. he steps inside and shuts it behind him with his heel. then he walks swiftly to your bed, picks you up, and drops you onto it on your hands and knees, taking off your shoes and tossing them to the ground. "i do not need help to disrobe-!" you complain, trying to weave around and pushing his big hands away, but his temper spikes once more.
"you are the most unruly creature i have ever met." he hisses, pushing your face into the bed. "you run off into the woods," he continues, jaw tight. "you taunt strange men. you climb rocks over ravines just to see if i will come after you."
"do not call me that! i only wish to have some fun, but i cannot with you breathing down my-"
he cuts you off sternly. "and i am not sure if it is because you have been raised too spoiled and pampered to have any manners, or if you act out because you're frustrated that i haven't stuffed your little cunt."
you let out an undignified little sound as he calls out your poorly hidden desires so bluntly, your body shuddering under his. dunk’s huge hand starts to trail to the hem of your dress, and he begins to bunch it up at your hips.
“you’ve made a mess,” his voice comes out as a scoff, and he slowly traces a thick finger along the damp seam of your clothed cunt. “did my brutish behaviour excite you, my lady?”
hearing your own words, your past mockery of him repeated back to you so snidely somehow excites you further. you wonder why he’s taken so long to put you in your place, but the day has finally come for him to put an end to your behaviour and set you straight. breathy moans leave your lips as he rubs you through your drawers, the stickiness collected on the crotch part pushing against you and making a bigger mess. he grabs the back suddenly, tugging it up and pulling it between your ass cheeks so he can rub the fabric against your clit.
his other hand reaches up to fist in your soft hair, tugging and forcing your body to curve towards him with no means of escape. his grip inflicts the perfect amount of pleasure-pain. you feel hot and achy everywhere.
"now you want to address me by my title?" he shakes his head, continuously rubbing your underwear against your sticky cunt, slick now drooling down your thighs. "tch. i can smell your mess. is all this for me?"
you cry out a pathetic "yes!" and push your hips back against his hand, seeking more friction. his face gives an involuntary twitch at your answer, his expression shifting into something you wouldn't be able to read if you were looking at him right now. his hand stills against you momentarily, and you grind your pussy against the heel of his hand with a whine, seeking more.
“seven hells,” he mutters under his breath. that was the last thing he expected from you. he was ready to get off you and pretend he hadn't touched you at all, but you wanted it. the proud little lady who's been tormenting him for weeks is suddenly pliant under his hands, warm and trembling.
dunk lets out a slow breath through his nose, and grabs a fistful of your drawers, tugging them down to your ankles. he watches the sticky strings web between the fabric and your cunt, and groans at how filthy you are for him
“so that’s it,” he says quietly, lowering his face to your cunt and pushing the tip of his finger into your puffy hole. “all this trouble… just because you wanted my attention.” he blows softly on your clit, and you whimper, trying to jut your hips back into his face. he pushes you down a little harder, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle without warning.
a whimper escapes you at the sudden, unfamiliar intrusion, and as he begins to pump the invading digit slowly, your slick walls cling greedily to his finger as it sinks deep inside of you.
transfixed, he watches as your swollen lips part and cling to his finger with each thrust, a wet squelching sound filling the room. your arousal gushes out around his finger and coats it, making it easy to slip inside you, despite how tight your walls cling to him once he's inside.
with how close his face is to your cunt, he can't resist only looking anymore, and pushes his finger down inside you to make space for his mouth to cover your pussy. he lets out a highly pleased noise at the honeyed taste of you, and eagerly laps at your wetness while curling and twisting his finger inside of you.
he gets caught up in your taste, running his tongue through your falls and dragging upwards, flicking over the tight bud of your ass. you squeal and snap back to attention, having gotten dumb and drooly from when he'd been munching your cunt, but the new sensation has you on high alert once more. he spreads your cheeks with his free hand. "don't move."
you whimper at his tone and gasp as his tongue runs up and down, all the way from the base of your sloppy folds to your ass, all while easing a second finger inside of you.
"s-ser duncan, i-" your voice breaks off into a gasp when his tongue probes inside of you, his fingers spreading you open far enough for him to stuff his tongue in as well. he moans inside of you, sending vibrations through your hole and making your stomach tighten up. your lips part to form weak pants as you bury your face in the pillow.
dunk can see how much your body is responding to him as well. the way your cunt molds to fit his fingers and tongue, how your wetness flows freely to keep your hole lubricated and messy for him. and he could swear the longer he feasts upon you, the better you taste. he's never tasted a cunt as ripe as yours. but he won't tell you that.
his tongue working diligently to taste every drop of your essence. he loses himself in the act of pleasuring you, consumed by the desire to feel you come undone beneath him.
he keeps his fingers stuffed inside you but pulls back for a moment to watch how your cunt swallows them up, and he takes in the sight of your puffy, swollen lips, and the glistening, dusky flesh within. "of course you have the prettiest little pussy." he mumbles, tugging his fingers back and twisting them back in with a turn of his wrist.
before you can respond, he seals his mouth over your cunt once more his tongue delving deep to lap at your dripping slit. your body arches into the sheets. "i cannot take any more," you hiccup. " 'm about to... g-about to-"
dunk ignores your babbles and suckles on your swollen folds, his tongue trailing up to trace circles your clit, flicking over the sensitive bud teasingly before diving back down. his fingers pump faster, stroking your h-spot with each thrust, pushing you ruthlessly towards your impending orgasm. "beg for it," he growls against your sex, his fingers pausing their movement, leaving you teetering on the edge.
"please," you whimper, your voice high and breathy, desperate for release. you cry his name as your orgasm crashes through you, your pussy clamping down on his fingers, as your release gushes onto his hand, your body lifting off the bed. dunk groans, lapping up your essence as it pours out of you, swallowing every drop greedily. your pussy flutters around the invading digits and on his mouth, greedily seeking more. dunk devours every drop until you're licked clean, then runs his tongue over his lips with a satisfied hum.
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