The Bound Knight Ch 06

Moldred sat at the foot of his bed, staring at the woman kneeling before him. She was perfect. She was perfect in everything: her long legs, her striking hair, her gem-like eyes. She had a defined musculature that was so rare on a woman, even those used for manual labor. Yet, with her thin waist and large breasts there was nothing masculine about her. He stared at her mounds, running over them with his eyes. Even weighed down by large, hoop piercings they were still perky -- sagging only slightly under the weight.

But, it was not only her physical features that made her perfect. He had seen her move. Even with spikes under her heels, she had moved through the hall like a great cat stalking prey -- a graceful balance, confident and poised, her muscles tensed and ready to strike. He saw her glances. Quick, furtive, but never shy or bashful. Her eyes were a drawn dagger, hidden behind the back.

As she knelt before him she squirmed, ever so slightly, with discomfort. The large dildos in her cunt and ass exciting and torturing her. He could see the juice dripping down her thighs. The light from the fireplace danced on the curls of her crimson hair, shadows hiding in the curves of her body. What in the hells was Mevenmein thinking? Why would he bestow him with a gift like this? No one gave their enemy their finest food and drink. Unless, of course, it was poisoned.

Moldred smiled, and looked at the tart in front of him -- wondering what poison she held. Was it in her clit -- engorged and red from the clip that squeezed it? Maybe in her pretty face, hidden somewhere in the hoop that hung from her nose? It didn't matter. If she was a trap, he would gladly spring her.

They were, practically, alone in the room Mevenmein had prepared for him. Two slaves acted as nightstands. They knelt by the sides of the head of the bed, holding up tables with their bodies. Eight more from his personal collection lined the walls. Four to each side, they stood at attention silently, wearing only high heels, shackled to their wall by a short chain that ran to a collar around their necks. They were little more than tapestry. Gash knelt by the door, ready to serve him if he called for her. There was a stand covered with fruits, wines, and other snacks. Two slaves knelt on each side of it, silver trays in hand. They were all furniture though. His attention was solely on Eve.

Eve

. That was what she had called herself. It was the only thing he disliked about her, but it was easily changed. What to though? The usual pet names seemed inadequate. This was no 'bunny' or 'pony.' Nor could he capture all the things he wanted to do to her with a name like 'Cock Swallower' or 'Whipped Tits.' For the first time in his life he regretted his lack of knowledge of poetry. He knew the classics, of course, but only the parts about killing monsters or fighting battles. He had always glazed over at the parts where they described particularly pretty slave girls.

She squirmed again, and he realized he had been staring at her for... how long had he been staring at her? Too long, he decided. The night was short and his mind was wide with things to do. But what first? Should he ravage her -- strike directly at that predator spirit she hid so poorly? Or, savor her, and let the fire in her build and build? He snapped his finger at the serving girls. "Wine," he ordered. Immediately, the two slaves by the tray jumped up. Within moments, one of them knelt by him, using her back and arms as a stand for the tray. The second knelt by her, jug in hand, and ready to pour him more. He emptied the goblet in one long gulp, slamming it back down onto the tray. As the slave began refilling his cup. He could see Eve watching him entire time. Feel the heat coming off of her body. He made his decision.

"Eager Dog," he ordered.

Eve moved without hesitation. She dropped to all fours, lowered her head to the ground so one cheek rested on it, and raised her ass as high as it could go with her knees still on the ground. He marveled at the curve of her back as he took another sip of his wine. Staring at the chords of tensed muscle that ran from her shoulder blades to her full butt. The cheeks parted slightly, framed by the glow of the fireplace behind her. The heads of the dildos in her cunt and ass cast into silhouette.

"Cunt facing."

She turned, not dropping her posture. As she did he saw her curve her feet to avoid the spikes under them. Calves tense. She turned 180 degrees, giving him a full view of her cunt, ass, and belly. Her abs, tight, but small compared to what a man would have, flexed as she held her position. He could see a slight bulge near her mons pubis where the dildo in her strained at her insides. He saw her pectorals flexing instinctively to push out the intruder, only for the clamp to mercilessly hold it in place. He couldn't help but stare at the bare flesh above her clit, and wonder what his crest would like there. He imagined her body arched in pain, screaming as he pressed the brand to her, the hiss of scalding metal touching skin.

His pants grew tight. He opened them, letting his member hang free. The slave holding the jug looked up at him questioningly. He leaned over and slapped her. Not too hard though. He didn't want her to spill any of the wine. He pushed the top of her head down, letting her know to stay put. He didn't want anyone on him. Anyone, except

her

.

He leaned forward, and opened the clamp around her clit. She gasped in pain as blood flowed back, and her thighs quivered as she tried to hold her stance. Leaving the clamp off but the dildo in place, he leaned back, and his cock grew harder as he saw her face, pressed into the ground. She was biting her lower lip to keep from screaming out. He watched her struggling with the pain as he sipped his wine.

Once it seemed to have receded a bit, he ordered, "Humble Cat. Cunt away."

Again, she turned around -- long limbs crawling over the dark, wood floor. For a brief instant, he caught a glimpse of her emerald greens eyes staring at him. He couldn't say if it was a look of wrath, or the most needful fuck-me-eyes he had ever seen, but either way they sent a shiver of lust down his spine. She put her face to the ground before he could lose control, moving her arms over her head, stretched out fully and crossed at the wrists. Her extended fingers crossed over each other, stopping just short of his feet. Again, she arched her back, holding her ass high.

"Ready Crab. Cunt Facing."

She moved again. Her belly up, feet and hands holding her body off the ground, her cunt towards him. Her legs quivered as she tried to hold the position while still keeping her feet off the needles just under her heels. He could see her squeezing to keep the dildo inside her cunt, as slick as it was with pussy juice. She cheated a bit. Ready Crab was supposed to have her body horizontal to the ground, but she angled her cunt slightly up to help keep the dildo in.

She held her head up to look at him, as the position required, and her shoulder length hair hung over her face. Her lips had been painted a matching red, and he could see her panting slightly under the strain of the position -- her bangs swaying under her warm breath.

Moldred sipped his wine, and smiled. "I'm surprised," he said. "You didn't hesitate with the positions. You didn't cry out when I took the clamp off. You're even still holding that dildo inside you. Other than slightly cheating on Ready Crab -- " he paused and watched her look away quickly as she corrected her posture. His smile grew wider. "You've been the model of a perfect slave. Clearly, Mevenmein has given you at least a basic training."

"Thank you master," she said, keeping her voice surprisingly level as she struggled to hold Ready Crab. "You honor this cunt."

"I do," he said, standing. He noticed her eyes, partially hidden under her bangs, following him, and his rigid cock. "But I am a Knight, not some bloated count clinging to my families past glories." As he said this he walked over to her and put his boot over her stomach, just above her cunt. "Hold," he ordered as he pushed down. He could feel her struggling as his boot ground down into the soft skin of her lower stomach. She fought to stay up, both to hold her position and to avoid the horrible spikes underfoot.

He continued, "So,

basic

training isn't enough. Lord Alwynn's bible has been the central authority on slave training for over a century." He paused. When he said the king's name she, reluctantly but obediently, lowered her heels just low enough for the spikes to prick them. She tried to push herself back off of them, but he didn't make it easy for her. He didn't push her down any further, but he also didn't let up.

"Tell me cunt, how many positions are in it?"

"One hundred thirty-nine," she answered, her voice strained.

He glanced over his shoulder at Gash, who nodded her head, confirming the answer. Moldred had never actually read Alwynn's bible. He had tried multiple times, but it was a miserable experience. The book was a looping, torturous tome, made to be read to slaves. Between actual rules and notes on slave rearing, the book would go into long monotonous sections on how worthless women were. How they were only three warms holes. Things he agreed with, but hard to care about when they were every other page. Gash had read it, though her being able to read was a heresy. One he ignored for the sake of convenience. Not that she needed to read it to know what it said. Priestesses were the only women who were supposed to be able to read, and every week, while the men gathered for mass, the slaves assembled in front of them. The priestesses droned the words to the slaves while the slaves knelt on pebbles. The priestesses would walk amongst the rows of slaves, holding large, lit candles -- flinging hot wax onto them as they passed. The slaves would then repeat the words back, and any who failed were hung in front of the congregation to be whipped.

Moldred imagined Eve there. A full head higher than every other slave, hot wax splashing onto her face. Her eyes burning as she repeated back how honored she should be when a man chose to beat her or piss on her. His cock ached at the thought of it, and at the feeling of her body squirming under his foot.

"Let's see how many of those positions you know, cunt." He took his foot off her and stepped back. "Moaning Tree."

She jumped to her feet immediately, obviously glad to be out of Ready Crab. Keeping her legs straight, she bent over so her head was towards the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. The hoops on her tits, nose, and ears hung down as the position forced her to squish her breasts into her legs.

He walked around her, examining her posture. The dildo in her cunt had started to poke out, so he pushed it back in. A short, high-pitched "Ah," came from her throat. He tapped the one in her ass, but it was still holding. He slapped her ass, enjoying the sight of her wobbling as she tried to stay on her tiptoes.

Moldred took a step back again and wracked his brain for a harder stance. There were maybe ten most people even used, and he rarely bothered with them at all. He had only done this because it was something he had seen Gash do with newly purchased slaves, and it always made him horny. Of course, she actually knew all one hundred and thirty-whatever positions. In fact...

"Gash," he roared. "Run this horny slut through her paces. Give her something that will make her rack her pea-sized brain." He slapped her other ass cheek as he said this. Gash stood in a single, almost-fluid motion. She wavered slightly, probably a result of her near starvation. He wondered, briefly, if she had eaten the food he placed on her nose earlier. Any other slave in her position would have, but he could easily imagine her near tears as she let it fall to the ground uneaten. She was pathetically obedient. As Gash walked closer he moved past her, towards a wall where whips, canes, and other torture instruments hung. He studied his options, before eventually picking up a flog with long, thin, braided, leather coils. He gave it a few practice swings and was pleased to discover from the heft of it that the ends of the coils were weighted.

When he turned back Gash was waiting for him -- head down, arms crossed behind her back, legs together, and up on her tiptoes. Eve was still in Moaning Tree. He gave Gash the order to go with a look.

"Pious Bow," Gash said, no hesitation.

But Eve did hesitate. She unclasped her arms from around her knees and slowly began to stand. He saw her biting her lip in thought. Her upper half was maybe half-way raised when she paused and lowered it again slightly. She kept her legs straight, and bent her head down into a deep bow. She moved her arms up, then down, then slightly up again. Moldred moved towards her, flog raised. Finally, she settled on putting her arms behind her back, just above the ass, crossed at the wrists.

Gash walked around her on her tiptoes, studying the girl's form. Moldred found it an absurd sight. Gash was over two heads shorter and anemically thin. By all rights Eve should have treated Gash with the same contempt he did, but instead she glanced at the shorter woman fearfully. Finally, Gash turned to him and gave a short nod to indicate Eve had succeeded.

"Tits out!" he roared, and both women jumped to attention -- standing up straight and touching their elbows behind their backs to present their breasts. Gash had slightly larger breasts, but he found the perk of Eve's more attractive. He grabbed one of the redhead's, squeezing it and shaking it so the hoop through her tit jiggled.

He looked at Gash. "I told you to give her a hard one." He swung the flog at her tits hard enough to nearly knock her off balance. "What do you call this position, cunt?"

"Show Horse."

He flogged them again. They shook and bounced and where the coils hit red lines appeared on her pale skin. "What do you think of that name, cunt?"

"The name was given to it by His Grace, The King. It is -- "

He flogged her again. "Not what I asked cunt." He looked at Eve. "What do you think whore?"

Keeping her head down, she moved her eyes up to look at him. They narrowed, trying to find the trap. Carefully, she said, "In this worthless whore's opinion," she paused, her piercing gaze staring directly into his. "It's a stupid name." After a beat she added, "Master."

He smiled, and slapped her on the face with his palm. It was a hard slap, and before she could recover he grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her into an embrace -- kissing her as aggressively as he had done the first time. He felt her pushing herself into him, her tall body a perfect match for his. Her nude thighs rubbing against his erect cock as their tongues met in her mouth. He pulled her back. She fought, tried to stay by him, but he had her hair by the roots and she couldn't stop him.

He held her there, staring into her eyes. "You just insulted our king and god, cunt."

Not breaking eye contact, she answered, "You didn't ask this cunt to lie, master."

He raised his hand like he was going to slap her, but stopped just before his palm hit her face. It didn't matter. She didn't even flinch. Gently, he brushed the hair away from her eyes. He pushed her back into place, and still looking at her, said, "Give her another one Gash. A hard one this time."

Gash didn't even pause, "Ready Bow."

Eve glanced at her. Moldred blinked. He hadn't even known there were positions named after weapons. He saw the muscles of Eve's neck contract as she swallowed nervously. Moving slowly, both because of the obvious pain she was in and because she clearly had no idea what the position was, Eve bent her upper body backwards, keeping her legs straight. It wasn't a bad guess, Moldred had to admit. It reminded him of a bow. He looked at Gash.

Without a word, Gash raised one leg up. She kept raising it, balancing in a way better than he would have thought possible for her. She kept going until her legs were a straight line, up and down. It was no wonder he had never heard of the position. Gash could only hold it for maybe a second, but that second was enough for it to be clear that Eve's attempt was nowhere close.

"Good job slave. As a reward, you may eat a single grape from that platter over there."

She bowed. "This worthless cunt thanks you master."

He ignored her, turning back to Eve. She had returned to a neutral, standing position. Her head was down, and she no longer glanced up at him. "Well now," he said with a wide grin. "Looks like you failed. Pillory."

She knew this one -- one of the basic punishment positions. She spread her legs past shoulder-length apart and held her arms up and out so her body formed an X. He saw her lower stomach clench tight as she tried to hold the large dildo inside her cunt. He walked around her, clenching the flog tight.

"Count," he ordered.

"One!" she said as he swung the brutal coils into her ass. "Two," as another landed on her thigh. "Three," was a clenched whisper as it landed across her stomach and she nearly dropped the dildo. She only managed an "Ei -- " before nine landed across her tits. By "Eleven!" she was teetering with every blow. He didn't hold back, swinging the coils with all the strength he could muster -- without using his Crest. He didn't want to kill her. He was impressed when, by "Twenty-two," there still wasn't a hint of tears in her eyes, despite her entire body being red with marks.

"Thirty!" she gasped, her body shaking. Moldred took a step back to examine his work. Eve was covered in marks from head to toe. Her breasts crisscrossed with red welts. Her ass striped up and down and side to side. She was panting heavily, her hair spilled over her face, beads of sweat running down her strained muscles.

"Gash," he said. She had gone back to kneel by the door. "Give her another."

-

It took three failed positions before she collapsed. The dildo had fallen out twice, and both times he slapped her until she fell and then made her lick it clean before putting it back in. The backs of her heels were stained red, and her nipples, nose, and ears were raw where the piercings had been swinging and weighing them down.

She started to fall, and Moldred moved forward with Crest-assisted speed. He held her against him -- pulling her exhausted body into another kiss. She leaned against him, tears finally falling down her face.

"Do you know why I did that?" he asked her.

"To punish... this cunt," she panted.

He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her gently on the forehead. "No." He ran his hand over her chest, feeling the welts and bruises. "You're a pretty cunt, but I want you to be beautiful." He ran his hand over her cheek. "Suffering

is

beauty." He grinned. "Even I, the great knight Moldred, pay attention at church sometimes. Women become prettier every time they're slapped. No makeup can turn your cheeks that shade of red." He grinned wider. "And I like the way your skin looks when it matches your hair," he added, before kissing her again.

He gently let her fall to the ground before turning to Gash. "Tie her to my bed. Put a block under her back. You know my preferences. You can take the shoes and piercings off her. We have potions, right?"

"Yes master. Both our own, and the Count provided some as well."

"Give her some wake-up tea, and put healing balm on the worst of her injures." He thought for a moment, "and rub some needle-cream on her cunt and ass. They're probably loose from those dildos." He stretched and tossed the flog over towards her. "And keep her excited. I'm going to go take a piss."

He closed the bathroom door behind him and let out a sigh. His cock was aching. It would take at least a few minutes for it to go down enough for him to piss out all the wine he had drunk. A slave knelt at one end of the room, a chamber pot on her thighs, her mouth open wide and tongue out towards him. He walked over to her, and took aim at her face. He leaned back, and waited -- still thinking of a new name for the redhead.