The Bound Knight Ch. 07

"Of course," Eve answered, leaning towards her. She was pretty, despite her terrible thinness. With a bit more weight she would be gorgeous, Eve thought. She also smelled like Moldred. Which made sense. She had given him a blowjob only minutes before. Eve wondered if she smelled like him too.

She licked the gruel off Gash's face, and sat back in position. The bathroom door remained closed, and the silence began to stretch awkwardly. After a few moments, Eve said, "You spoke to me."

"This cunt did," Gash answered, stressing the words to let Eve know that even without a master present she intended to use proper signifiers.

"Does that mean we're allowed to talk?"

Gash stared at the bathroom door, unmoving. She said, "Master ordered this cunt to speak with you earlier. She was told to discover why Count Mevenmein bestowed you on him. He stated you were 'bait' and he wanted to know what 'the trap' was."

"Oh, right. Uhm, are you allowed to tell this cunt that?"

"This cunt is."

"Right." Eve stared at her. "I'm not, by the way. I mean, this cunt is not."

"This cunt knows."

"You do?"

There was a short stretch of silence, and then Gash turned to slowly look at Eve. She stared at her, bright, violet eyes seeming to look right through the taller woman. "Yes," Gash said, turning back to look at the door.

Eve swallowed nervously. "You don't think I could be bait?" she asked, feeling slightly insulted.

"Master Moldred has expressed an interest in purchasing you, cunt. This slave suggests you empty your mind of nonsense, and focus on the lessons of the previous night, and how you can improve upon them."

Eve thought about last night, the bruises and pain that covered her body flaring at the memory. When the ropes around her arms had been let down and the rod in her cunt removed, she had sprawled onto the floor, unable to even move at first. Even now, just sitting in a resting posture was torture, and her tired eyes burned with exhaustion. Even walking would be a challenge.

But, Gash's words about improvement had an obvious meaning to Eve. She said, "This cunt understands. She never expected Master Moldred to lower himself to the ground and attack with his leg. It was an obvious counter to her kick, but she was stupid and unprepared."

Eve looked over at Gash, expecting to see a look of -- well, she wasn't sure what she expected. Acknowledgement? Respect? A quick nod to indicate she was right? Instead, Gash looked at Eve like she had sprouted wings and a cock.

"When this cunt finished counting down, you should have dropped to the ground and presented your cunt to Master Moldred, immediately. You should have begged for him to fuck you, and punish you for your insolence."

"But, he wanted to challenge this cunt," Eve said. "Master said it himself."

Gash stared up at her with anger in her eyes. Eve stared back, matching her gaze. Gash opened her mouth to speak, but before she could the bathroom door opened. Both women snapped their heads to attention and straightened their spines, thrusting their breasts towards Moldred as he emerged.

He wore trousers but no shirt, his muscled skin slightly flushed from warm water. He had a washing rag thrown casually over one shoulder, and his long blonde hair was still slightly damp. Eve found herself staring at his chest, the pains of her body temporarily forgotten as she remembered lying in bed next to him, and the feeling of him inside her.

He pointed at her, and her muscles went rigid as she tried to put herself even more at attention.

"Clean yourself up. You look terrible cunt." Then he looked at Gash and said, "Summon Gastogne and Aloric. We're going to have a strategy meeting."

"Yes master," they said at the same time. Gash stood and moved towards the door. Eve began to crawl towards the bathroom. She didn't know if the crawling was strictly necessary, but the pain in her knees was less than the pain in her legs and on the back of her feet.

As she crawled past him, Moldred reached down and grabbed her hair, halting her.

"Are you excited to watch your father's humiliation?"

"This cunt looks forward to it, master," she answered. It wasn't entirely a lie. While she didn't like the thought of her father being humiliated, she was excited to see a true knight in action.

"Of course you are," he said, shaking her head slightly. "And afterwards, you'll be mine."

"This cunt is overjoyed at the thought, master," she answered, not sure if that was a lie or not. The complicated knot that formed in her stomach was too thick to untangle. Not that it would matter if she did or not. She had always thought that the worst thing about being a slave was that it didn't matter what she wanted. The best thing, she was starting to realize, was that she didn't need to figure out what it was that she wanted.

He let her go, and she crawled into the bathroom, past the slave with the chamber pot on her thighs, past the now cool buckets of water. There was a mirror on one wall, and she crawled to it, kneeling in front of it. The person in the glass looked terrible. She barely looked like a person at all. Bright red whip marks crisscrossed her body. Some were a rosy pink, but many were still an ugly blood-red. Those wouldn't heal for days, possibly weeks. Purple bruises splotched her face, chest, and stomach. Tiny scratches from Cum Puppy's collar lined her neck, and thick black bangs hung under her eyes. She didn't look at the back of her feet, but she could imagine how bad they were. The 'M' over her cunt was jagged and rough -- leaning slightly to the side.

She hurt in empathy, and hurt even more when she remembered that it was her body she was staring at. The complicated knot in her stomach throbbed. She closed her eyes and tried to push it down. It didn't matter how she felt. It didn't matter what she wanted. All she could do was accept it. She grabbed a rag and bucket of water, drank some to quench her thirst and wash the taste of cum out, and started scrubbing.

-

Fifteen minutes later Eve knelt between Moldred's knees, her tongue wrapped around his cock, her mind blank and focused. She stared up at him as she licked his warm member, her tongue moving up and down, feeling every vein and ridge of skin. All of her earlier worries gone now that she could focus on something simple and physical. Moldred looked at the other two men in the room, talking to them, not paying any attention to the woman around his cock.

"You can't be serious," the somber, dark-haired one -- Gastogne -- said. "We came all this way, went through all those hoops to get this approved by the king, and you're going to ruin it for some lanky whore?"

That stung, but Eve ignored it. She wasn't part of this conversation. Her role was to wrap her lips around the top of her master's cock, sealing them tight and slowly moving down -- which she did.

"Watch yourself, Gastogne," Moldred said. She felt a slight thrill at him warning someone else not to insult her. She wondered if Moldred would fight someone else for her, and when he ran his hand through her hair and she nearly melted.

Moldred continued, "At most it will add a day. An extra term will let Mevenmein request a tournament-style bout, but so what? We fight one more time tomorrow. What's the harm?"

"Why not just buy her?" Gastongne said. She couldn't see him, but she could tell he was seething.

"Mevenmein will never allow it. He'll deny the request just to spite me."

Eve continued to stare up at Moldred, running her tongue between his balls, and back up to the tip. She searched for any sign she was doing a good job, that she was managing more than to get slobber on his cock, but his attention was fully on the conversation.

Her father had, no doubt, bestowed pureborns on the other two knights -- likely right after Moldred left the hall with her. But, she hadn't recognized the woman between Aloric's legs -- she was possibly one of his personal slaves. Gastogne didn't have a slave at all, which Eve found odd. She had always heard men thought more clearly with a woman between their legs. At least, that was what her father always said whenever he had an important meeting.

A third voice, Aloric, spoke up, "You know, this might be to our advantage."

"How so?" Gastogne grumbled. Moldred said nothing, but she saw him turn his head to stare at Aloric.

Eve liked the boyish-looking knight. He had light red hair, the color hers had been when she was younger, and a soft voice. Plus, though it would be sacrilege to say it out loud, if he was a woman, he would have been quite cute.

Aloric continued, "Our main worry is that Mevenmein found some hedge knight to take this challenge, and is hiding him, right?"

She saw Moldred nod, and assumed Gastogne did as well.

"Well, a proper, tournament style duel is two out of three. Even if Mevenmein found someone to fight this duel for him, and even if he's managed to hide him all this time, there's no way he found two or three. That means his knight would have to fight every single duel, while we can switch out if we get so injured a potion can't heal us in a day."

There was a stretch of silence where the only sound was Eve and the other slave sucking on their respective cocks. Eve's competitive spirit wanted to sound louder and sloppier than the other girl, but her training told her to be quiet. Training won.

Finally, Gastogne sighed and said, "It's unfair you can look the way you do and still have a brain Aloric. Fine. You win. You're right. You're both right." He sighed again. "I guess I just don't see what you see in her. She looks... gristly."

Eve had to close her eyes at that, focusing entirely on the cock in her mouth. She wanted to move her hands from behind her back to on Moldred, and feel him getting angry on her behalf.

But he just chuckled. "You should have seen her last night. This cunt is wild. She's acting proper now that she's covered in bruises, but she's a firebrand. Anyways, we're in agreement?"

"Aye," Aloric said immediately.

"Yes," Gastogne added, a bit less enthusiastically.

"Then it's settled," Moldred said, standing up. Eve was pushed back by the suddenness of it, but she quickly scurried to kneel by the seat he had been in. He put his cock back in his trousers, buttoning them. Eve couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed.

"Now that that's out of the way, how about we talk about the actual fight?"

"Finally," Gastogne rumbled. "I'm up first, right?"

"Of course," Moldred said. "This is your fight, first and foremost. 'Lanky whore's' notwithstanding," he chuckled. "Me and Aloric are here to assist."

"Ok," Gastogne said. "This is what I want to do --"

"Hold on," Aloric interrupted. "Can we not do this when Mevenmein's cunt is literally in the room? I mean, he obviously sent her to spy on us, right?"

All eyes turned to Eve, and she looked down, feeling her nakedness before the three knights. She wanted to deny it, but knew she couldn't talk unless told to. Besides, she wasn't entirely sure it was untrue.

"Fair enough," Moldred said, walking over and grabbing her by the hair. His hand slipped off as he failed to grab enough. He immediately grabbed more, pulling at the roots. "We're going to need to grow out this hair, slut. It's starting to get annoying. I need something to hold on to."

"This cunt apologizes master," she said, her voice slightly strained from the pain.

Alorica and Gastogne began heading towards the door. "Give me a second to put her up," Moldred told them, as they left.

He led over to one of the cunt-closets. Eve hated them. They were small, even for normal-sized slaves. For her they were torturous. Then again, she remembered that the last time she had seen her own slave -- Sloppytongue -- she had locked her in a cunt-closet just like this one. Eve briefly wondered what would happen to Sloppytongue when she was sold to Moldred. Most likely Sloppytongue would go back to Eve's father. She hoped he would keep her in the house, and not send her to the fields, or worse, the mines.

"Gash," Moldred called. "Grab her a chastity belt. A thick one. I want her squirming as she waits for me." He pulled her hair up slightly so Eve looked at his face. "I'll send someone to fetch you just before the bout. Wouldn't want you to miss it."

She smiled at him. He pulled her up onto her legs. She could barely stand on her own, but he held her, squeezing her close. He kissed her.

Then, he turned back to Gash, and said, "And put whatever's left of that needle-cream on there." He looked at Eve, "I want you dripping wet, for after."

Eve opened her mouth to beg him not to, but closed it. She was too exhausted, and she knew what the result would be anyways. Plus, she didn't want to get slapped when her face was already covered in bruises. At least, not when she could avoid it.

The chastity belt Gash emerged with was, just as ordered, thick. Two dildos, just as large as the ones in her last night, lined it. Gash was rubbing the stinging, white cream on them. The same one that had made her vagina and ass cramp before Moldred had fucked her. She remembered how impossibly huge they had made him feel, and felt nauseous. Locked in a dark, tiny box for hours, with those jammed inside her. It sounded like hell.

But she put them in. Moldred pulled the belt tight. Maybe a notch or two too tight. It was painful around her waist, and torture on her cervix. The box was small enough she could put her shoulder against one wall, reach her arm out, and not be able to stretch her fingers all the way out. She couldn't stand or lie down, and had to pull her knees into her chest, pressing the dildos deeper into her.

As Moldred closed the door, she heard the room door open, and Aloric ask, "You coming?"

"Just finishing up." Moldred said, before adding, "By the way, did you finish that thing last night?"

The closet door closed before she heard the answer, leaving her in pitch darkness. Eve could barely move, and the cream was already starting to take effect. It stung and itched, but she couldn't get her hands under the belt to do anything. The dildos in her, already pushing her near her limits, seemed to expand and expand. Eve screamed. It didn't matter. The closets were specially made, and she knew no one could hear her.

-

The witch was dead. Her eyes were a glazed grey, her skin cold and pallid. Rigor Mortis had already begun to set in. There was no pool of blood. No knife clutched in her hand. Her body lay at the back of the greenhouse, next to some fallen planter pots and the soil they had once held. Her hand was pressed to her chest, and her brown hair, streaked with grey, spooled over her pain-stricken face.

Mel. She wasn't much older than Mevenmein, but he couldn't think of her as anything other than ancient. It was so rare for a cunt to grow old. Farm slaves couldn't. Their bodies simply weren't made to last that long. Pureborns could, in theory, live as long as a man, but in practice that never happened. The pains of child birth under the Curse of Fay meant they rarely survived more than one or two children.

Witches were the exception. Pureborns unable to have children, gifted instead of cursed by Fay, trained and tamed by the King himself. It was common for men to talk about how disgusting they found witches, even when the witches were still young and fresh. Mevenmein joined with them, of course, but he wasn't too proud to admit that he found their uniqueness alluring. He had fucked Mel at least a dozen times. She lacked the humility of a traditional slave, and she knew her value. Traits he found frustrating and attractive in equal measure.

And she was dead.

"A heart attack, my lord," Vassimir said, kneeling by her body. "No wounds, except those from the fall. The pots look like she tried to grab at them when she fell. No sign of a struggle beyond that. Plus, when you take into account her age, it all points to the same thing."

"She wasn't that old," Mevenmein said.

"She was for a cunt," Vassimir replied.

"That shouldn't matter," he sighed. "The timing of this... It's suspicious. You can't deny that."

"I cannot. But who would do it? How? You questioned the slave that found her?"

He grunted affirmation. The slave was 119, if she had a name beyond that, he hadn't asked. She was skinny, near flat, and would have been plain looking if not for her bald head. Mel had five slaves to assist her, and she shaved them all. "Keeps the men from wasting my time raping them," she had once told him when he questioned her on it.

119's story was simple. She had come in to water the plants, and found her mistress there. She hadn't touched her, hadn't moved her. The doors were unlocked, but Mel's slaves kept shifts watching the door all night long. Their mistress liked to walk through the greenhouse at night, and their shifts were only a few hours long. So, she could have gone in at the end of one shift, and no one would notice her never leaving.

It all made sense.

"I don't trust her," Mevenmein grunted.

"She can't lie to you. She has your brand."

Mevenmein snorted derisively. "Clever slaves can find ways around that. I sent her to the dungeons. They'll get the truth out of her."

"The truth you want."

Mevenmein shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he eventually said. "I already know who did this."

"Moldred?"

"Of course, Moldred! That bastard will do everything he can to ruin me! Did you see the way he acted last night? Acting like I had given him the finest slave in the county, instead of Eve's spoiled meat. It was supposed to be a joke. An insult! He acted like she was such a treat that some of the men looked downright jealous of him. He's probably still laughing."

"Forgive me for saying this, my lord, but he doesn't really seem the poisoning type."

"And those bastards with him? One of them was a commoner. You think he's above such an act?" Mevenmein took a deep breath. "Look, I know you think I'm being absurd, but think about it. This sets us back. No question. And who benefits?"

"As far as Moldred is concerned we don't have a challenger," Vassimir said.

"Without a witch we won't have one at all. Gaining a crest is not a painless affair, and if that cunt is weak from her night with Moldred..."

"Or the day before," Vassimir added, another I-told-you-so look framed on his face.

"It doesn't matter. We need a witch."

"Should I prepare a horse, my lord? I can reach the slave farms before noon."

"But you'll make it back well past it." Mevenmein paused, and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he knew what he had to do. "I'll get us a witch. You fetch Eve."

"You mean... the guest?"

Mevenmein nodded. "The witches of The King's Coven are said to be the best in the land. I don't know why she's here, but she's still a cunt. And I know how to handle a cunt."

Vassimir nodded. "King speed, my lord."

"King speed," he replied.