Guinevere

Poem by: DampKitten

Reads: 629 | Likes: 2 | Shelves: 4 | Comments: 15

Featured Review on this writing by Trixie

"I don't know if I should feel excited for her or jealous, her punishment kills her and revives her and there is all that in between. Great post, very poetic and what an imagination!
So she runs in the morning, fearful of her life, I'm sure the men nap and wait for the clock to strike eight. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Loved every word!"

Guinevere, the queen and wife to King Arthur, betrays her husband and the kingdom of Camelot by having an affair with his most gallant knight, Lancelot. Now, Merlin, Arthur's personal confidant, advisor, and wizard, has cast a demonic spell of punishment.

Guinevere

escape from Camelot

At dawn, you saddle up your horse,

release the hounds and set your course

beyond the daunting castle gate

through which I fled on my escape.

Across the meadows, hills, and creeks,

your hungry howling canines streak

with steamy breath; with eyes hell-bent.

They pause when they detect my scent

then rage with gnashing fangs and claws,

a thundered roar of hooves and paws.

You whip the reins in hot pursuit

and snap the stirrup with your boot

as I, a brown-eyed doe distressed,

(my pounding drum inside my chest)

race bounding through the trees and grass.

I hide in hopes that you will pass.

But as you near, the skies release

a frozen cotton cloak of fleece

that melts the leaves and fades the green

so I no longer am unseen.

You arch the string. You aim the bow.

You let the piercing arrow go.

The polished steel, the feathered shaft

sail whispering through the snowy draft

beyond, beneath, below, across...

It finds its target in the frost.

The gleaming edges of the blade

have forged a crimson stream's cascade

that floods the cleft between my breasts

and lulls my heaving heart to rest.

You lift me lifeless, limp, and bare

across your steed. My dangling hair

is purged with ice and clumps of snow.

"It's back to Camelot we go."

Amongst the knights, you lay me down.

The fire is warm. The table, round.

Their banners high, their poles erect,

they spread me wide as to inspect

your darling beauty's curves and crease,

so pale, so still, so much at peace.

Then one by one, they joust my core,

till drained and spent, they joust no more.

But every gush of heated spray

has slowly turned my night to day.

I wake in wonder, fresh and new.

No wounds, no scars, no clothes, no clue.

You raise your cup. My cunt's a mess.

"Playtime is up, so get her dressed!"

You drag me screaming to the gate.

"Now run, sweet girl! We hunt at eight..."

Submitted: October 20, 2019

General Erotica death murder necrophilia gang-bang group-sex

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Comments

Extinct

Its a pool of eroticism!

Sun, October 20th, 2019 4:34am

Author
Reply

Then take your shoes off and wade in, sweet girl

Sun, October 20th, 2019 7:07pm

puellalove

Well i hardly waited to see what will happen. And after the middle your poem served breathtaking views. Well done , it was really a hot read

Mon, October 21st, 2019 2:35pm

Author
Reply

Thank you very much, sir!!!
I like making you HOT!

Thu, October 24th, 2019 8:16pm

Trixie

I don't know if I should feel excited for her or jealous, her punishment kills her and revives her and there is all that in between. Great post, very poetic and what an imagination!
So she runs in the morning, fearful of her life, I'm sure the men nap and wait for the clock to strike eight. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Loved every word!

Tue, October 22nd, 2019 4:34pm

Author
Reply

I'm so glad you did, girl...and thanks for reading! I love your comments!

Thu, October 24th, 2019 8:15pm

Spyguy

A pole to dip you bring to life. To house it deep within my wife...
Would bring a pleasure unfulfilled; Raging flesh to tear the yield!
The flood of passion I could give: Held back so sad, the way I live.
Well there’s no harm in mental flight... Racing heart, a poem in night!

Sat, October 26th, 2019 8:13am

Author
Reply

No there isn't, Spy...

so, bring your racing heart to me,
and all that raging need will be
dispelled and quelled as well it should.
Come HARD. Come Quick. Come fuck me good...

And thanks for reading this, Spy....and your amazing poem!!!

Sat, October 26th, 2019 5:35pm

DLCannon

Gee, came back to life, did she? I guess they didn't kill her good enough? Are they gonna REALLY kill her at eight? Or she she always gonna come back to life, and they'll get to kill her over and over again?

Wed, October 30th, 2019 6:23pm

Author
Reply

That's the curse...everything occurs over and over, DL!
Sound like fun?

Wed, October 30th, 2019 5:20pm

Spyguy

Your offer fine, like potent wine, tempts mental bonds affirmed.
Yet if, in action, it were put, Damnation of my soul confirmed!
But you, my Dear, with words & flirts, do make my oldster’s heart a flutter...
Old Faithful stands, a trembling, squirts, his liquid gold-like butter!

Sat, November 2nd, 2019 7:29am

Author
Reply

I love your poetry, Spy.
As I understand it, Old Faithful shoots off on a regular basis like clockwork.
Do I need to make an appointment?

Sat, November 2nd, 2019 1:59pm

Matt Triewly

I'll never be able to watch Excalibur again without thinking of this... wild, wild.... lusciously imagined... and fuck it... there's some jousting near us this week at an old castle... I might just go...

Mon, August 2nd, 2021 10:19am

Author
Reply

Oh, you definitely should!
Thanks for reading and commenting, Matt! I love that movie, by the way...

Mon, August 2nd, 2021 7:42pm

kalelthemith

So, a dream, a glow, caught in the snow.
Taken aback to be fucked when dead!
Then alive the very next dawn, you write such poetic hardened porn.
Love it, as usual, DM

Mon, August 2nd, 2021 9:39pm

Author
Reply

Thanks, Kalel! I'm glad you like it. Thanks for reading!

Mon, August 2nd, 2021 7:40pm