The Bound Knight Ch. 06

-

Eve's mind was swimming. She was tied to Moldred's bed, each limb shackled to a different post. A triangular block had been placed under her lower back, forcing her cunt to arch up. She had been blindfolded, keeping her alone with her pain and her thoughts. Her pain, her thoughts, and the feeling of the emaciated, silver-haired slave's tongue on her pussy.

She was exhausted, but the wake-up tea the slave -- Gash -- had forced into her lips sent a spike of energy through her that didn't go away. Part of her still wanted to collapse and sleep, but another part screamed to move and go. The healing balm had numbed the worst areas of pain and stopped her bleeding, but her entire body still burned. The soft silk of the bed sheets felt like sandpaper on her raw skin. At least Gash had taken the piercings and hellish shoes off her. The dildos were gone too, but the cold, stinging cream the slave had rubbed on her cunt and ass made the muscles there clench painfully -- like a constant cramp.

Worse than all of that though, was her mind. It was the second time that day she had been reduced to a quivering wreck. She hated tears -- hated weakness. Slaves weren't supposed to be weak. What did the priests say? 'Suffering is strength?' She didn't feel strong. She felt pathetic. Moldred had told her she was pretty with marks on her, and she had felt so proud. Even now the burning on her skin had a new dimension, like she was glowing. He was a cruel, horrible man. One look at his slave told her that. She was emaciated and starving, and horrible, purple bruises covered her body. But all Eve could think about was him kissing her, telling her she was pretty. It was stupid. She knew it was a basic training trick, but when she thought of him holding her in his strong arms, brushing her hair aside so gently, she melted like tallow. Every time she so much as glanced at him her entire body screamed at her to run, to hide, to fight. To fuck. She didn't know which one she was supposed to do, but it was his face that filled her mind in the darkness. It was him she imagined as Gash licked her pussy so gently. Just enough to keep her on edge. And when she heard the door open, she was so filled with emotion she nearly started crying again.

His footsteps were heavy as he walked across the room. So different from a slave's steps. He slapped the ground as he walked -- steps growing louder as he grew nearer. There was a gasp as the licking stopped on her pussy. She imagined him: grabbing Gash's silver hair and tossing her off the bed. A weight pressed the mattress down, and she felt him beside her -- his warm body lying beside hers.

He ran his hand up her body. Up her inner thigh, brushing past her vagina, over her chest. His calloused hands on her whip-marked skin hurt, but she still had to stifle the moan that formed on her lips.

"Tell me what you want," he said.

"Please master," she whispered. "Fuck this cunt."

He ran his finger over her pussy. She was already arched towards him due to the block, but she arched herself further anyways. Her pussy ached with need. "Beg me," he said.

"Please master. Please," she panted. "Please fuck this worthless, stupid cunt. Please..."

He crawled over her, and she felt the heat of his body. She felt the tip of his cock on her pussy -- rubbing up and down. "Please," she moaned.

And he entered her. It was impossibly huge. It felt like he filled her. She had seen his cock. It was large, but not larger than the dildo she had kept inside her for the past few hours. She knew, logically, that it was the cream they had put on her. But, as he slammed into her pussy over and over again, logic was far from her mind.

It hurt. By Alwynn's name it hurt. The tightness of her pussy, the edge of the block under her lower back, his hands on her raw skin, the hard, powerful thrusts he used -- like he was cutting down a tree. There should have been no room for pleasure. But her mind was blank with it. Her mouth hung open and her tongue lolled out as he pounded her again and again. He put his fingers into her mouth and she tasted his salty sweat and she sucked on them -- eager for his taste. He panted and moaned and she thrust her hips in time with his. "Fuck this cunt," she gasped. "Fuck this cunt."

He lifted her up and thrust into her and she screamed. "Can I cum master?" she begged. He slapped her. "Can I come master?" she screamed and he slapped her again. He lay down on her body, pushed himself into her one final time, and whispered, "You may." She exploded as his warm seed filled her womb.

-

Later, much later, she lay beside him in his bed. The blindfold was gone. The cuffs were off. The block had been thrown to the side and lay next to one of the slaves serving as a table. She oozed him from every hole. Every orifice and every piece of her skin ached. She lay beside him, arms and legs wrapped around his strong body, unable and unwilling to think about anything more than the way he smelled, and the warm, soft blanket wrapped around them.

He reached over, and put his arm around her. She curled up closer to him. He turned to her, staring into her eyes, and whispered, "I've been trying to think of a name for you."

"Master, this cunt has a name. It's E -- "

He silenced with a hand around her mouth. "Alfred Mevenmein -- Eve. I know. A terrible name." He paused. "What do you think of Moldred Gavain -- Eve?"

Her eyes went wide, and before she could answer he said, "Disgusting, right? Fine to put on a piece of paper, but not the sort of thing you call a creature like you," he ran his hand over her cheek. Eve ran her hand over his chest, feeling the hairs on his chest, and his strong pectorals, unsure what to make of what he had just said.

He continued, "You deserve something more... I don't know." He paused, lost in thought. "Have you ever seen a dragon?" he finally asked.

"A dragon, master? Dragon's aren't real."

He rubbed her lips, laughing. "You mindless little cunt. Of course they're real. They come down from the mountains to the north. Horrible, fire-breathing lizards. A single one would barely fit in that great hall of yours."

"Can they fly? Like in the stories."

"Of course. They wouldn't be so annoying if they couldn't. When we fought one a year ago, it took us weeks to kill the damned thing. Anytime we got close to wounding it, it would take off."

"You fought one?" she asked, so amazed she forget his honorific.

He smiled. "Aye. Me and eleven other knights. Alphonse, Gastogne, Balmeric, Kain -- some of the finest in the kingdom. We killed it too. Eventually."

Eve tried to imagine, but it sounded impossible. She knew dragons had existed, the histories were filled with them, but why had no one ever told her they still did? Then again, she realized, why would they? She was a slave, no one ever told her anything.

Still, it was hard to picture. A dragon -- breathing fire and beating scaly wings. Twelve knights in full armor circling around. The man lying next to her one of them. She remembered herself earlier in the day, covered in mud and cum, and felt a horrible sadness wash over at the realization at far apart the two of them were. She held him tighter.

"They sound incredible," she said. "I would love to see one, one day."

He laughed, rubbing her cheek. "No you don't. They're terrible things. It would burn this little manor down and turn everyone you've ever known to ash. Who would stop it? Mevenmein?" he laughed again. "No, what you want to see is a tournament. A real one. Not whatever games pass for one here."

"Do you go to a lot of tournaments?"

"All of them. Toulas, Ecen-Slaigh, Gillfont. I took the crown at Kallinboar."

Eve stared at him with awe. She hadn't heard of half of those places, but just the thought of them was overwhelming. She knew, logically, that there were places beyond her fahter's county, but it was an academic knowledge. She had fully expected to live and die without ever setting foot outside her father's domain. But here was someone who fought in far flung places across the kingdom. She tried to reconcile this with the man who had beaten her earlier. She was surprised at how simple she found it. She had been told her entire life that great men have great appetites. Some of the tortures the king, or the great knights of old, inflicted on their slaves were the stuff of legend. She was more surprised he hadn't done worse to her.

Moldred continued talking as she thought. "You would love it. The crowds, the excitement, the fights. I suppose you wouldn't understand the fights, but still. It's incredible."

"This cunt could understand them," she said, only realizing after the words left her mouth that she had just contradicted her master. Luckily, he laughed it off.

"And what do you know about duels, cunt?"

"N -- not much master. But, this cunt does know some. At least, more than most."

"Have you ever been in a fight, cunt? A real one. Not the hair-pulling, scratching fests you cunt's get up to."

"She has, master. This cunt has dueled men, and won." Eve realized she was wildly out of line, but she couldn't' help it. For some reason she couldn't place, she wanted, needed, to prove to this well-traveled, dragon-killing knight that she was more than some empty headed cunt.

He stared at her now, a strange smile on his face. "Men huh? You're father's men no doubt. Well, you're father's men are weak. He is in the center of one of the most peaceful areas in the kingdom, and controls his lands with money and influence." He stared at her, then, suddenly, as if remembering something, said, "Oh, right. I almost forgot my point." He smiled at her. His brown eyes sparkling in the firelight. "You make my mind wander, you beautiful whore."

He gripped her tighter. "You've never seen a dragon. Fair, I suppose. I don't know why I would have expected different honestly. But that dragon we killed, it had green eyes. Your eyes remind me of those."

Eve found herself touching the area under her eye, smiling despite herself. She didn't know why being compared to a large lizard made her feel good, but it did.

"So, for your name. I'm thinking Dragon's Eye." He paused, and Eve fought the urge to speak out of turn, and tell him what she thought of that name. "No," he finally, blessedly, said. "Too long." He ran his hand over her, fondling her breasts. "Fire Snatch."

Eve tried to answer with her eyes. Moldred ignored her, lost in thought.

She had to say something. She would shave her head and body bald before becoming 'Fire Snatch.' "Master," she dared. "Is Eve really such a bad name for this cunt?"

She knew she had just broken about half a dozen rules, and braced for a slap or worse, but he just sighed and rolled towards her, rubbing her cheek affectionately. "You are so pretty, and I love how wild you are, but you are a stupid cunt, aren't you? Honestly, I should punish you, but..." He smiled again. "I have a better idea." He jumped out of bed. "Get up," he ordered.

Eve obeyed, following him to the space between the foot of the bed and the fireplace. The same place he had beaten her earlier. They stood across from each other, both fully nude. He was taller than her by almost half a head. His wide body, toned with muscle, seemed so much more than her own. She realized, as he started talking, that she was staring at him, and not at the floor.

"You say you can fight, and you want to keep your name," Moldred said. "So, prove it. Let's have a little competition. I am going to try to rape you. If you can hold me off for -- " he shrugged " -- let's say one minute, you win. If I penetrate you, I win. No leaving the room, but other than that go wherever you want, break whatever you want. It's not my manor. If you win, you keep your name, we go back to bed, and we do what you want for the rest of the night. Talk about dragons. Fuck. Whatever.

"But, when I win. Hmmm, let's see, what should I do? It needs to be something you remember. I'll give you a new name, don't know what, but that's a given. Also..." He paused, thinking. "Well, my father always says 'When in doubt over a cunt, use pain.' So that's what I'll do. I'll tie your arms to the ceiling at the foot of the bed, and you can stand there all night and watch me sleep. Maybe I'll even grab a few of these other cunts and make you watch."

Eve felt a sick feeling in her stomach. It was all the worst experiences of her life combined. It was the same as earlier that day, including her challenger's absolute confidence she would fail. It was also like her first rape -- the night with Bloody Ben. She found Ben disgusting, but had still been humiliated by him pointedly choosing someone else over her. Molded was horrible, but there were parts about him she liked. Plus, she could still feel him inside her. Still feel the way he had rode her. The thought of someone else stealing that from her made her feel hollow inside.

Also, the bed was comfortable, and it was so rare she got to actually lie on one.

Her body ached, just like earlier in the day. Her skin was raw and bruised from the whippings, the slaps, the torturous outfit Cum Puppy had put her in, and the passionate, violent way Moldred had used her. She had lost the earlier bout because of her exhaustion, but the wake-up tea still ran through her. Eventually it would run out, and she would crash hard, but right now she was in top form, maybe better.

She looked at Moldred again. He was imposing. Taller than her, stronger than her. But, he was still just a man -- a human. A muscular, powerful man, true, but the cock that hung between his legs wasn't anything magical. He was just a man, and she liked her name, and it wasn't like she had a choice anyways.

Except, she realized, he wasn't just a man. "Will you use your crest, master?" she asked.

He grinned, and a light started to appear on his chest. Before she realized what was happening, Moldred crossed the distance between them, and appeared so close she could feel his breathe on her face. His hand was stopped a hair's breadth from her cheek. She knew, without question, if he had slapped her she would be dead. His crest glowed on his chest, lighting up the room.

"Should I not?" he asked. "It's a part of me. As much as my arms or legs. I thought you said you understood duels. Would you ask your opponent to fight with one arm behind his back, and still call that honorable?"

Eve stared into his strong, brown eyes, feeling weaker than she ever had in her life. She had felt powerless before, but never like this. His hand was so close to her she could feel the warmth of it. If he had hit her, at that speed, with that strength, she would have died before she realized what was happening. "Master," she said, her voice soft, shaky. "It wouldn't be much of a competition if you did."

He grinned, and his crest faded away. "Fair enough. No crest." He took a few steps back. "Gash, keep time. And count us off. On three."

He stared at her, arms by his sides, not taking her seriously. Eve, took a deep breath. Her heart didn't slow, but she could at least focus. As she did, she felt the anger rising in her again. She could handle the abuse, the humiliation. But she was sick of everyone treating her like a joke. Maybe he could kill her with barely a thought with his crest, but what could he do without it? If she had that kind of power, she'd never stop using it. Maybe he was the same. Maybe he couldn't fight without it. She crouched low, watching him.

Gash counted, "One, two, three."

Moldred dashed forward, his arms wide. Eve moved towards him, tumbling to the side at the last second. But, he fast, faster than he had any right to be with a body that size, and he had anticipated her. As Eve rolled past him she felt a hand lock tight around her ankle. It pulled her, and Eve scrambled to grab something. She was by the fireplace, and she grabbed a fire poker that was leaning on the wall next to it.

As Moldred pulled her back, she rolled up and swung the poker in a single movement. She felt it hit, and saw a brief glint of red. Moldred had blocked it with his forearm, earning him a shallow, but long cut. Eve tried to stab it at him, but she was on her back, one leg in the air, and he was ready for it. He grabbed it and pulled. In that instant she saw his face, and the wild smile that was on it.

She tried to roll. His grip was too tight, but it bought her space to go for a kick at his groin. Again though, as if he could read her mind, he was ready. He blocked the kick with his knee, ripped the poker from her hand, and threw it across the room.

He pulled her closer by her ankle. It had all gone so wrong, so quickly. She knew if it turned into a grapple she was through. She needed to surprise him. She put her hands behind her and pushed with all her strength. Using her one free leg and the momentum of the push, she stood. It worked. Eve swiped at his face. Forced to block, Moldred let her other foot go.

He blocked one swipe, pushing her hand to the side, but her other hand connected with his chest. Her nails leaving thin red marks. They were smaller than the ones that covered her body, but it was still somewhat satisfying. She dodged to the side as he grabbed at her, spun around for a kick, but he was gone.

She felt pain in her leg as something slammed into the side of it, and she went down. As she fell, she realized Moldred had dropped low and swept her leg out from under her. She further realized that she was so used to men only fighting with their arms and weight that she hadn't even thought to watch out for that.

She hit the ground, and Moldred was on her. He pinned her down by her upper arms, and put his knees on her thighs -- holding her in place with his weight. He stared into her face. She struggled, spat at his beautiful, horrible face. It landed on his cheek, and he licked her saliva off with his tongue. His wild, blood-hungry brown eyes flashed in the light of the fire, and he entered her. It was over.

"How long was that Gash?" he called.

"Thirty-seven seconds."

He looked down at Eve and grinned, the same wild grin that had been on his face the entire fight. A terrifying, blood-chilling grin. "Over half a minute. Not bad."

She spat at his face again. He kissed her. She struggled. He began to thrust in and out as tears fell down Eve's face.

-

Eve's head hung low, weighted with exhaustion and humiliation. She was standing -- forced to stand -- by a bar that ran from inside her cunt to another bar that locked around her ankles. Her ankles were kept over shoulder-length apart by the bar between them. Her arms were shackled to the ceiling above, holding her in place. The bar inside her was painful and covered in sharp spikes. A dildo gag had been placed in her mouth, and she struggled to keep from gagging as it tickled the back of her throat and forced open her aching jaw.

Moldred walked around her, studying her. In his hand he held the fire poker she had scratched him with. Gash had already applied healing salve to his cut. As he walked, he waved the poker back and forth like a weapon.

"I love that fire in your eyes, cunt," he said, the cool iron of the poker to her cheek. "But you need to learn some discipline if you're going to be mine." He ran his hand over her cunt, pushing his fingers around where the rod went inside her. When he pulled his hand away, the fingers were coated with her juices. He held his hand up for her to see her glistening liquid coating them, before wiping his fingers on her cheek and hair. Then, he put his hand on her mons pubis, rubbing it.

His crest appeared on his chest, glowing with light. "Soon, you're going to have this crest right here." He patted her. When that happens, my word will be your law. But I don't want slavish obedience. With a lightning fast motion, he slapped her. It wasn't the same killing blow he had threatened earlier, but it still felt like a log had hit her face. If not for the ropes holding her the ceiling, she would have fell. As it was, all she could do was moan.