The Bound Knight Ch. 03

It was almost noon by the time Eve made it to the training grounds. She lingered in the doorway, and from behind her she could smell the smell of baking bread and grilling meat drifting out from the kitchen. Soon, slaves would take lunch out to the dozen men still in the yard, and the men would eat and rape before resuming their practice. Eve contemplated waiting for after that. They might move slower with full bellies, and, when she inevitably lost, they might be less brutal if their balls were already drained.

It was a vain hope though. Her father was watching, and he would never allow it. No matter how bad this gang rape might be, her father's punishment for not following his orders would be ten times worse. So, she took a deep breath, and walked out.

A few of the men stopped and stared at her. With her height, she stood out from the other cunts in the manor, and she rarely went fully nude. "Has the pureborn come to keep us company?" one of them yelled, among a few whistles and other jeers. Eve bit her lip as she walked over to the weapon rack. They saw naked women every day. Why did they have to treat her so differently?

She recognized many of them. Her father had almost five hundred men under him -- an impressive figure in a land where there were twenty women to every one man -- but the twelve in the courtyard were some of his best. Worse, among them was Bloody Ben. A massive man who equaled Vassimir in both height and frame. His head was completely bald and he had an ugly, pig-like face. His family ran her father's mines, and their cruelty was the stuff of every woman's nightmares.

He leered at her as she walked past, giving her a smile missing two teeth. The sight of him made her shudder. When she first reached fucking-age her father had held a tournament among his men to give away her virginity. Bloody Ben won. She had dreaded the night, but when it finally came it was so much worse than she had ever imagined.

The servants had spent hours preparing her, getting her hair and makeup perfect, coating her with oils and perfumes, and instructing her on what to say and how to act. "Master Ben of House Cavare, please take this worthless cunt," had been drilled into her over and over. She waited for him in a room with no bed, but enough torture equipment to make the most seasoned of slaves shake. Four chains hung from the ceiling, and she stood in front of them on her tip toes. Arms crossed behind her back.

She waited for hours, saying the words in her mind over and over to stop herself from thinking. "Master Ben of House Cavare, please take this worthless cunt," she whispered, trying not to cry and ruin the mascara that had been so laboriously applied. "Master Ben of House Cavare, please take this worthless cunt. Please take this worthless cunt. This worthless cunt." But, when he finally entered the room, drool dripping from his mouth and smelling of alcohol, the words froze. Not that it would have mattered. He crossed the room in two long strides and struck her across the face. More punch than slap, he made her stand up before knocking her down again and again. With tears running down her face he choked until she nearly passed out.

He didn't take her though. Instead, she found out why there were four chains hanging from the ceiling. He manacled her wrists to the two taller ones, and her ankles to the shorter ones. He hung there, body burning from the beating and the pain of the position, legs spread wide, cunt level with his cock, but still he didn't take her. He grinned, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a cream. "Got this from the witch," he said as he globbed it onto her cunt. Eve nearly screamed. It was freezing cold, but somehow also burned. After a moment, her cunt began to itch like it had been bitten by a thousand ants. She screamed until he gagged her.

She wanted to be fucked. Her vagina felt like a squirming, itching cavern of need and pain. She had dreamed about her first fuck, in those rare moments when she was left along without a chastity belt. Even at her most heated, she had never felt anything like this. She wiggled her hips, trying to get some relief, but the air itself burned. She needed relief. She could see the bulge in his pants, and she didn't care that he was a disgusting, pig-faced monster. He had a cock, and every inch of her body screamed for it. But he didn't give it. Instead, two slave girls entered the room. Positioning himself and them where she could see, he fucked them in front of her. For hours. Her cunt burned and itched with need as she watched his massive, hairy cock slide in and out of a slave girl.

Eve screamed into her gag, mind empty of everything but the pain in her vagina, and her intense desire to have something inside it to relieve that pain. He stood straight in front of her, tip of his cock just brushing her cunt, as the two slaves ran their tongues up and down the sides of his member. Their hair brushing against her thighs enough to make her moan with lust. He never took her though. He fucked them in every way imaginable, taking potions to maintain his stamina, and every watched ever thrust and every cum with envy.

Finally, he kicked the slaves out, and walked over to her. He undid the manacles around her arms first, causing her to fall to the ground and hit her head. She didn't black out though, and she felt him turn her over and lay on top of her. His weight pressed the air out of her, but she could feel his warm member on her back and she arched expectantly.

He spread her cheeks and shoved it in her ass. Eve screamed into her gag with pain and frustration. In and out he forced himself into her, stretching her skin and sending convulsions of pain through her body. He leaned by her ear, and whispered "You stupid cunt. You stupid, worthless cunt. You think I want your cunt, you stupid whore," over and over until he finally came. Warm seed filled her belly, and she nearly threw up. She would have, but the servants expected this and she had been denied food the day before.

Eve didn't know how long she lay there, or how many times he took her ass. The next thing she remembered he was holding a drawn sword to her neck, leering down at her, drool escaping the corner of his mouth.

"This will be your first fuck," he said. She felt warm blood running down her neck where he had cut her. He was going to kill her, she could see it in his cold, black eyes. He wanted to kill her, and she couldn't move. All she could think about was her burning cunt.

"Please," she whispered. She didn't know if she was begging him to kill her, or fuck her. She just knew she wanted it.

He didn't kill her though. Instead he removed the sword from her throat, and sheathed it. Then, he held it so the pommel was up, and the end rested on the ground. Eve stared at it. It was a beautiful weapon. Her father had purchased it from a merchant, who claimed it had once belonged to the great knight Gamien. Whether that was true or not, it certainly looked like a blade a great knight would have --polished to perfection, and with a blade so sharp you could almost hear it aas it cut through the air. The sword had been Ben's other reward for winning the tournament, and Eve knew exactly what he was planning. "Fuck it," he ordered.

Eve stood up, positioned herself over it, and spread her lower lips. The cold metal felt almost soothing on her burning cunt as she lowered herself onto it. She struggled around the large pommel, sure it would tear her. Only her burning desire to relieve the itch, and her fear of Bloody Ben, kept her going through the pain and tears. And then, it was in her, filling her. She could barely breathe, and it felt wrong and foreign inside her. It was also the best thing she had ever felt. She rode it. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster as her juices coated the handle. She rode it till her thighs burned and her breasts hurt from bouncing. Ben slapped her and fondled her and called her a slut and a whore, as slowly, the burning in her built and built and built. Until, it exploded from her and she screamed as an orgasm wracked her body. Then, the sword still inside her, she blacked out.

Ben still had that sword. She had seen it on his side at formal events. It sent a strange feeling through her. The sight of Bloody Ben filled her with terror, but the sword filled her with terror, and something else. In truth, her virginity had been taken a few days after that night, when a squire boy caught an escaped pony girl and her father had given her to him as a reward. However, she couldn't help but think of that sword as her first lover.

-

Eve grabbed a training rod from the weapon rack. A simple metal rod with cloth wrapped around one end -- a far cry from the lost weapon of Gamien. Thankfully, Ben didn't have the sword with him that day. Bloody Ben favored more brutal weapons. He had been using a cudgel to reduce training dummies to splinters.

Eve gave the training rod a few experimental swings, conscious of her breasts swaying as she did. She turned back to face the men, and found them all staring at her. She gripped the rod so hard it hurt, and took a deep breath.

"My Master and Father has ordered me to challenge any of you who will have me," she yelled. She tried to sound calm, but her voice still came out higher pitched than she had wanted it to.

"What do you mean challenge?" one of them called, and a few of the others laughed.

"A duel," she answered quickly. "First to draw blood, fall to the ground, or be disarmed."

The men looked amongst themselves. A few were laughing, most looked confused. Bloody Ben pushed through them, staring her down. "And when we win, cunt? What is our prize?"

Eve swallowed, but looked him in the eye. She saw no reason to maintain propriety. What she was doing was already scandalous. "I am to submit to you." She paused and looked at each of them in turn. Saw the hunger in their eyes. "All of you."

-

Alfred watched from the window of the grand parlor as the first of his men approached Eve. He had expected Bloody Ben to go first, but was glad it was someone else. There wouldn't be much point if it ended so quickly.

Not that he had much hope of it lasting too long. Even from a distance, he could see the man approaching Eve wasn't taking her seriously. His stance was down as he approached, and he kept glancing back to yell something to the other men. Eve, on the contrary, was too tense. Her stance was good, but her nude body and well defined build made it easy to see that every muscle in her body was clenched tight.

"There are easier ways to test someone," Vassimir said, stepping next to Alfred.

"This isn't just about testing her. The men need to see her as weak so they won't suspect anything." As he said it, he glanced back at the Crests over the mantle, now dull and lifeless. He wondered if she had even noticed the way they started to glow when she entered the room.

He turned back just in time for the first man to reach her. He carried a training sword -- sharp enough to cut, but dull enough that it shouldn't cause permanent damage. Shouldn't, he thought, frowning.

The man-at-arms made a few experimental swings at Eve. To her credit, she blocked well. However, he began to swing harder, faster, and despite Eve being taller than him, she was already being pushed back by the strength of his blows. There were no counters, no parries, it was all she could do to block.

"As I expected," Alfred said. "You've done an impressive job training the cunt, but she can't overcome her nature. I appreciate the effort old friend, but this plan won't -- "

"Shhh," Vassimir interrupted. "Watch."

As he said it, the man took a step forward, grasped his blade with both hands, and swung. Given how the duel had gone, Alfred expected to see Eve's training rod knocked out of her hand from the sheer force of the blow. But instead, as their weapons met Eve shifted hers so it angled up and to the side. The man's sword hit the angle and flew across her rod. The force carried him forward, his balance gone. Eve's body blurred as she stepped in and slammed her training rod into the man's overextended hands. His weapon fell to the ground, and Eve stepped past him.

Alfred blinked. He had no words.

"I told you she was good," Vassimir said. Alfred could hear the smug grin in his tone.

"Yes, for a woman. Not... whatever that was."

Eve turned back to face her opponent, who seemed more in shock than Alfred. He couldn't imagine the humiliation the young man must be going through. She bowed to him. A deep bow at the waist -- respectful, but not apologetic. Alfred knew that it was likely only furthering the man's shame. Still, he couldn't feel too bad for him. He had lost to a cunt.

Thankfully, one of the men-at-arms decided to end the farce. While Eve was bowing, a young man carrying an axe rushed her. By the time Eve stood up straight, he was barely a stride away. But somehow, she must have noticed him, because just as he raised his weapon she dodged to the side, turned, and swung her rod into his legs. The man went sprawling to the ground. Just like that, she had won twice.

"This was a mistake," Alfred muttered.

"Having second thoughts about ordering her to a gang rape?" Vassimir asked.

"No," he answered, gaze now locked on the remaining men-at-arms. "I'm worried she might win."

-

Eve breathed. Every inch of her body ached and it was only her training with Vassimir that kept her stance solid. Her legs and arms were still sore from carrying bundles of wood through the woods. Her knees and hands still ached from crawling through the manor. The cigar burn on her breast stung with every drop of sweat that touched it. She had gotten a ladle of water from the kitchen before entering the yard, but even so her mouth was dry and tasted of ash. She was covered in sweat and mud and a thousand tiny aches and bruises. Her heart was beating so fast and so hard it felt like a sledgehammer between her breasts.

But, she felt great. She had just won, twice, against men. She had only ever sparred with Vassimir and her slave maid, and the maid was more like fighting a training dummy. Her father told her it was a waste of time to spar with other men. They were too strong and too skilled. Vassimir told her she could once she managed to win a single duel against an old man like him. Something she had never gotten close to accomplishing. Now, she was realizing that it wasn't that she was bad. It was just that Vassimir was that good.

Still, she knew the first two had been cocky, and her handful of exchanges with the first man had been enough to tell her that he was stronger than her. She wasn't too worried though. Both of them had been slow. Slow, and filled with enough bad moves that, if she hadn't been so intimidated, would have let her end the first fight in a quarter of the time. She stared back at the ten remaining men, and shifted her stance to a more aggressive one. They stared back at her with mixed, unreadable expressions.

Then, one of them stepped forward. Eve wouldn't have thought it possible, but her heart started to beat even faster. It was Christophe. He was a short man, and she hadn't noticed him before in the crowd. But, despite his height, he was generally considered her father's second best fighter, after Bloody Ben. He was the man she had hoped would win the tournament for her virginity. He wasn't quite the sort of handsome they wrote about in poems, but with his coal black hair and boyish face he was good looking.

He also had a nice smile, which he wore as he approached her and said, "Well, well, well. Where did you learn that?"

"Apologies master, this -- " she paused. She knew it was improper, but it seemed wrong to call herself 'cunt' given the circumstances. Surely, she had shown that there was slightly more to her. "This one cannot say."

If Christophe noticed he didn't seem offended. In fact, he smiled wider and looked her up and down. Eve thought he might be searching for weaknesses in her stance, so she tightened it, falling into a more defensive one. But, he turned his head back towards the other men and said, "I think it's only fair that whoever bests this cunt gets first dibs. Aye?" Muttered grunts and nods followed. Eve didn't dare look at Bloody Ben's response. And, this time, when Christophe turned back towards her and looked her up and down, she knew he wasn't thinking about how to beat her. He was thinking about what he would do when he won.

If she was to be raped, he was the one she would have picked to go first. But, the way his eyes looked past her defenses and at her bare breasts drove any thought of letting him win from her mind. She was going to beat them. All of them.

To her surprise, Christophe didn't approach her immediately. Instead he walked over to one of the weapon racks. There, he put down his sword, and picked up a training rod. He gave it a few experimental swishes as he walked back to the center of the yard. As he did he flashed her a cocky smile. Then, more to the men than her, he said, "I don't need any advantages against a cunt." He then held out one hand and beckoned her over, before falling into a stance identical to hers.

Eve approached cautiously -- watching for any sign of movement from Christophe. Christophe, stayed in place, taunting her. He pretended to yawn, before lazily rubbing his eyes. Eve gritted her teeth, and lengthened her stride, closing the gap between them. Her limbs were longer than his, so she stabbed at him from her maximum range. He was ready though, and quickly dodged to the side and closer. Eve was ready though, and immediately pivoted her thrust to a swing. Christophe quickly parried it, before responding with two quick counter-thrusts.

She parried them easily, but her range advantage was now gone. Christophe was under her and swinging quickly, over and over again, with just enough power to force her to block. She was a full head taller than him, and had expected her height to be an advantage, but at this distance it was a detriment. The iron training rod was rough enough that a good hit on her bare skin would draw blood as easily as any blade, and her tall body meant she had more space to defend.

Worse, he was fast. He kept her on the defensive as they danced around each other. All of her attention focused on him as he rapidly transitioned from thrust to strike to sweep. One moment he went for her legs, then, as soon as she blocked he was going for her shoulder, or her side. More infuriating than that though, was that she could finally feel the day catching up to her. She knew she should have been faster, but after the exhausting punishments her father had put her through, it was all she could do to keep up.

She blocked and parried, unable to strike back. The rhythm of his attacks was rapid, relentless, it was -- She had to move quickly to catch a block as she realized something. His attacks were rhythmic. They weren't a series of random strikes. They were well practiced combos. That was how he did them so quickly. And if they weren't random, she could predict them.

Eve kept up the defensive, letting him move her back, left, or right as he wished. Her focus entirely on trying to find the pattern. A sweep at her legs, a strike at her left side, fall back, thrust at the center. With every attack her blocks became quicker, and Christophe's eyes grew wide as he realized what was happening. He struck faster now, rushed, but it didn't matter. She knew what he would do before he did it. He tried to mix in random attacks, to keep her off guard, but these were slower. She let it happen, not bothering to counter, letting him force her back. A fake at her right side, transition to a thrust at her shoulder, and then, when he went for a downward strike, he would be open. She would end it.