The militia to the rescue

A short while later,
Bevan sighed and shook his head as he squirmed in his uniform. Five years had gone by since his count had rewarded him for long and faithful service by making him the man-at-arms of the small market town of Spirra and its surrounding countryside, and the comfortable existence of keeping the peace and occasionally leading the local militia (all thirty of them) on manoeuvres meant that his old reinforced leather jerkin didn’t quite fit him round the waist like it used to.

“Alright boys, here we are,” he muttered as he stopped about fifty feet from the front of the inn. With him were the half-dozen members of the militia who actually lived in town. They were all hopelessly green, and with exception of Jina, were not the kind to be spoiling for a fight under any circumstances. Jina on the other hand was quite aggressive, and that along with him getting to watch the young brunette’s huge, round tits sway and bounce about during exercises had convinced the traditionalist Bevan to accept her into the unit.

“Think they’re still there?” Marek, the local smith’s oldest boy, asked while cradling his spear close to his chest, fidgeting with it nervously while eyeing the inn. Of course, neither he nor Bevan nor any of the others knew exactly how many “they” were, who they were, what they were up to or even if there actually was a they doing much of anything at all. Half an hour ago, Bevan had been enjoying a calm, quiet morning in the comfort of his home when Lyrina had shown up banging on his door and insisting that there was some sort of massacre going on at the inn and that it was his duty to stop it. The widow of Spirra’s old miller and the mother of the current one, Lyrina was a determined old woman, and had already mobilized the town militia before showing up at Bevan’s doorstep, the whole bunch of them nervous and embarrassed as they had stood lined up behind her. Lyrina hadn't seen exactly what was going on, but the screams were definitely those of a woman being heinously murdered, and it had to be stopped right away. Bevan hadn't seen much point in arguing with her, no one ever did, and so had gathered his weapons and armour before joining his men.

“I don’t know, boy,” Bevan replied. He desperately hoped that if indeed there had been something going on, it was over by now and he and his boys could deal with the aftermath before sending a message about it to his count. Of course, with his luck, the inn was now in the hands of a large band of cut-throats and murderers.

“Think we should…” Marek started out, only to be interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a woman shrieking at the top of her lungs.

“That didn’t sound like…” Bevan began, but he too was interrupted, by Jina in his case.

“It came from round the back! Quickly!” Jina cried out, and charged forwards, axe in hand and her shield held up into the air next to it as she raced cross the street and cut along the side of the inn. Well, at least she had the good sense not to try bursting in through the front door.

“Oh crap…” Bevan muttered as he saw Jina disappear further and further into the distance, before finally letting out a grim “Alright, boys, let’s go!” and leading the rest of the militia after off her.

Due to their hesitance, Jina had already made it round the corner of the inn before Bevan and the rest were even halfway down its side, leaving him to agonize over whether to speed after her and risk himself and the others or advance more cautiously and leave the brave but foolhardy young woman to face whatever fate she had stormed headfirst into on her own. Despite himself, Bevan chose the first option, and as he and his five subordinates cut round the corner and across the field to appear at the backyard of the inn, they found Jina standing there next to the old apple tree, the young woman alone and seemingly unharmed. From her expression though, she looked as though she’d just suffered a frightful shock, enough so that her shield and axe now lay on the ground next to her. As the backyard came into view, Bevan encountered the same sight as she already had, and groaned with surprise as he stopped moving and felt his sword slip from between his fingers, landing on the ground with a soft thud that was accompanied by others as his men followed his example.

Sitting next to the well in the middle of the flagstoned yard was the most beautiful woman that Bevan had ever seen, even including the various blue-blooded beauties that had interacted with his old count. Black-haired and with a face that was easily recognizable as pretty much perfect in its features even at a distance of fifteen or so yards, the woman was strikingly gorgeous to the point where it almost hurt to look at her. More strikingly still, she was completely naked save for a pair of heeled, black sandals, and her tits stuck out massively from her slender, curvy frame, the sight of the two flawless, richly bronzed and utterly huge titties making Bevan groan out loud before sending a quick prayer of thanks up to the skies, one that was mostly gibberish and contained the word “tits” to a much larger extent than normal.

Standing in front of the woman was a towering figure of a man, a naked, muscle-bound warrior type that Bevan felt fortunate that he probably wouldn’t have to fight, unarmed but with a ginormous cock, rock-hard and glistening in the sunlight, exploding out from between his legs to almost touch against the naked woman’s soft, luscious lips. It had to be at least twice as large and twice as thick as Bevan’s own member, the grizzled old soldier found himself thinking as his gaze drifted back towards the woman’s spectacular chest. He knew of portions that could enhance a man in that particular department, and had even made use of them on some occasions, but what the man was sporting seemed much too **** to be the result of anything like that. Much like its size, the amount of thick, gluey fluid that dangled off it and which looked very, very much like cum, was so copious that it appeared down right unreal to the old soldier, who pushed it from his mind and focused instead on the delicate shape of one of the woman’s small, erect nipples.
Whatever the reasons for its size, Jina seemed quite stricken by it, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the muscular slab of cockmeat, almost shaking her head as her gaze raced back and forth along its length, then opening her mouth and wording something silently several times over before finally unleashing an uncharacteristically girlish “M-monstercock!” loud enough that the couple could overhear it.

The man turned his head in the direction of the exclamation and smiled as he laid eyes upon a now very flustered Jina. The woman in turn eyed each and every one of them, and Bevan felt his knees start to cave in against each other when she fixed her smouldering gaze on him, then blew them all a kiss before wrapping one hand as far round the base of the man’s cock as she could.