The Bound Knight Ch 09

Any sense of comfort Eve felt from being carried by Vassimir dissipated as she realized where she was being taken. At first, she hoped he might be carrying her to one of the servant's quarters underneath the manor. She didn't know why her father would want her there, but it was a hope. A hope that was dashed as Vassimir walked past them without slowing. He was taking her to the dungeons.

There was no place in the manor Eve hated more than the dungeons, but not just for all the obvious reasons. There was no place that made her feel lesser. It was part of the design. For men it was a practical tool to keep slaves in line, and an occasional source of enjoyment. For the women it was hell. In the dungeon she wasn't a pureborn or the daughter of the count. She was just another cunt to be punished. The same as all the others. Even in construction it thrust its disparity into her face. It was underground, and cool all year round. The men, with their warm clothes, barely noticed the chill. But the women immediately felt the damp air on their nude skin, and shivered as their bare feet touched the cold, stone floor.

She had been sent there before. Maybe not as much as she deserved, she knew, but every trip was burned into her memory. There was the time a slave caught her masturbating without permission and told her father. For that, she was locked onto a large wheel and dragged through filthy water over and over again. Then there was the time she wanted to try alcohol, so she snuck into the kitchens and took a flagon of wine. When she was found out she was hung upside down, burning candles placed into her pussy and ass, and whipped until she passed out.

Mostly though, she remembered the hours spent in tiny cages, praying for someone to let her out, but also praying no one ever came because when they did it would just mean more pain. Shivering in the cold, listening to the wails and moans that echoed through the dungeon at all hours.

As Vassimir carried her they passed torturers wearing long black robes, their faces hidden under terrifying masks. Cages lined the walls, and she tried not to stare at the occupants. Were they jealous of her, or did they just think she was another disobedient cunt being taken to her punishment? Maybe she was.

She tried not to stare, but she did recognize one of the faces they passed. 513, the slave her father had punished yesterday for missing a cobweb. She was locked in a cage hanging from the ceiling by a single chain. The cage was even smaller than the cunt closet Eve had just been locked in. A burning brazier was under the cage, and Eve saw her shift uncomfortably over the low flames -- the small movement making the cage spin slightly.

And then they were past her, moving deeper into the dungeon. They passed a woman on a cradle -- a pyramid shaped block of wood. Her ankles had been tied to the upper thighs so her knees dangled down as she squirmed with her pussy on the point of the cradle. Her arms were tied to the ceiling and her face covered with a hood. She screamed muffled cries into her mask as a torturer whipped -- the cracks echoing off the walls. Eve had never been on a cradle before, but she had been on a wooden horse. She could only imagine how much worse the single point, driving inside her, pushing her open as her weight forced her down, would be.

They passed a women locked into a barrel, her head out one end, her ass out of the other. The barrel was on some strange platform that let it spin, and handles were attached to it. Torturers stood on both sides of her, one using her mouth, the other her ass. They thrust in and out of her, and as they did they spun the barrel and the woman inside it. Compared to the more painful tortures, that one didn't seem too bad to Eve. It might even be fun -- at least for a little bit. Though judging from the pools of cum that covered the woman's hair and the ground under her, Eve guessed that it had long passed any point of enjoyment.

And on they continued. For all its occupants and implements the dungeon was actually fairly small, but every step seemed to last a lifetime. Everywhere Eve looked was some new horror, something to stoke her own fears. In her exhausted, sleep deprived mind, she saw herself on every torture device, and every scream and whip crack made her flinch.

"It's alright," Vassimir said. "You're not being punished. We just have to pass through here to get to where your father hid it."

Eve didn't say anything, she just held him tighter. The dildos inside her still stretched her painfully, and her breath felt light and weak. Still, it was a relief, though only slightly. She had no idea what her father could have hidden down here, but her mind was already running through every horrible scenario it could concoct.

She realized she wouldn't have to wait long to find out. They turned a corner, past the dungeon, and Eve stared down a long corridor lit intermittently by torches. There were no slaves here, no torturers, just a mostly dark hall, and standing at the end of it was her father.

"By the king," he said, walking towards them. It was the same thing Vassimir had said when he saw her, and there was the same annoyance. Though the worry was replaced with anger. He looked her up and down, tracing the bruises and cuts that covered her body with his eyes.

He looked up at Vassimir. "Does he know?" Before Vassimir could answer he looked down at Eve. "Does Moldred know?"

She had no idea what he meant.

Vassimir said, "I don't believe

she

even knows, my lord. I believe this is simply the natural result of a night of passion."

"Passion," he scoffed. "More like bloodlust."

"Not to be rude, my lord, but I've seen worse come from your own bed chambers."

Her father scoffed, then touched her hair, running his finger down it. For a moment, she thought she saw something there -- compassion or sadness maybe. But, he blinked, and if it had ever even been there it was gone. He contorted his face in a disgusted grimace and said, "If he knew he would have killed her. This changes nothing."

Then he started looking around. "And where's that fucking witch?" he asked. "I sent half the slaves in the damned manor after her. They must have found her by now. I don't give a damn what she is. She could be the King's personal cock-sleeve for all I care. If she's not here in the next five minutes I'll clasp her in irons. I'll -- "

"Stick me with hot needles? Have me dragged behind horses? Please Alfred, I shiver at the thought." The witch appeared. She walked down the hall, dressed in a white corset that showed off her slim, dainty figure. Eve physically cringed as she called her father by his first name. Even most men didn't dare that.

Her father stepped towards the witch and said, "Where have you been cunt?"

She smiled at him, daring to meet his eyes. "I only just found out this morning. By the way, I heard about Mel. I'm sorry for you loss."

Eve blinked. What had happened to Mel? She hated the old witch with every fiber of her being, and she was fairly sure the feeling was mutual, but that didn't mean she wanted anything bad to happen to her. At least, nothing permanent.

"If you're so sorry then help me get back at the one who killed her. Heal her," he pointed at Eve.

The witch raised an eyebrow as Eve processed what she had just heard. Mel was dead? And someone had killed her? The witch just continued to smile.

"And what's in it for me, Alfred?"

Mevenmein all but growled at her. "You are a cunt in my home. Your master isn't here. You do what I say."

"Honestly Alfred. You know women get bored when you say the same things over and over." Mevenmein looked ready to explode, but before he could she turned her head to stare at Vassimir. "And you." Eve followed her eyes as she stared him up and down. She walked over, and ran her finger down his arm. "I'm Josephine. What's your name?"

"Vassimir," he answered flatly.

"Master

Vassimir

," she said, like she was tasting the letters. "Of?"

"Just Vassimir."

"Well Vassimir, that's a big girl you're carrying. How'd you like to give those big arms a rest and try holding me?"

Mevenmein stepped towards her like he was going to slap her, but he stopped at the last moment and just said, "Stop bothering my marshal, you stupid cunt. Heal her. Now!"

"My lord," Vassimir said, "If it will speed things along, I'll rape this whore." There was no lust to the words. He said it like he was agreeing to carry someone's bags.

"Rape her if you want, but I'm not making a deal with a cunt," Mevenmein said. He glared at the witch, his face red with rage. "You said you came here to observe. Well, if you don't heal her, the only things you'll be observing are the inside of a cell, and the asshole of the ugliest, fattest torturer I can find."

Her smile never faltered. "Oh relax Alfred." She held up her hand, and there was a small bottle of purple liquid in it. Once again, Eve wondered where it had come from. "I'm just having a bit of fun." She turned to look at Eve. "Hello Eve. We really need to stop meeting like this. You may actually look worse than last time."

Eve stared at the bottle she was holding, memories of her body burning from the inside flooding her mind.

Josephine said, "It's going to take a few minutes. Do you plan to hold her the whole time?"

"Come with me," Mevemein said. "I have a room ready."

Josephine nodded, but instead of moving ran her hand over Eve's stomach. There was a slight bulge from the dildo inside her, and she felt the witch's fingers tracing it. "This will need to go as well." She turned back towards Mevemein. "Unless you want to break her pelvis."

"I'll need a hammer," Vassimir said.

"There's one in the room," Mevenmein said angrily. "Now hurry. We're too out in the open. No telling what prying ears have been listening in on us."

They followed him, and as they did Eve leaned towards Vassimir and whispered, "Master, what's going on?"

He whispered back, "Be quiet for now. Your father will explain everything soon."

So, Eve was quiet as her father unlocked a door at the end of the hall, and a thousand questions raced through her head. They were all, momentarily, silenced as she entered the room and saw the armor. It was a horrid, wicked-looking thing that sat in the center of the circular room. Solid black plate, it looked like something a villain would wear.

Vassimir gently placed her down by a wooden crate before moving towards another stack of crates at the other end of the room. He didn't pause or look around. He moved like he had been in here before. The witch -- Josephine as she had called herself earlier -- did look around the room, paying particular attention to the armor.

"Not exactly 'shining' she said, wiping her finger across its surface."

"Ignore it, witch," Mevenmein replied. "Heal her and be gone."

"The belt needs to go first."

As she said it Vassimir was already walking back towards Eve, a hammer in hand. The belt was fastened with a simple, cylindrical padlock. As Vassimir raised the hammer Eve hoped the lock belonged to her father and not Moldred. She didn't want to get in trouble.

A few hard blows later and the lock was shattered. Eve wiggled out graciously, her holes making a slurping noise and gaping wide as she pulled the thick, wooden dildos out. There was an empty feeling where they had been -- strange after having them in her for so long, but a relief none the less. They were glistening with her juices, and she picked the belt up to lick them clean, as she was supposed to, but as she did her father yelled:

"Throw it over there. We don't have time for that nonsense."

Her stomach and mouth thanked him as she threw it to the side. She then crawled into a basic waiting posture, but she found it hard to hold. Somehow, a few hours of rest had made her body even weaker than it had been that morning. It was a struggle to hold her back straight, and her knees roared and protested in pain as she crawled over the cold, stone floor.

When she looked up for her next instructions, all three of them were staring at her. She quickly glanced back down, and as she did it hit her: none of this made any sense. Why was her father here? Guests were arriving from across the county, and he needed to be greeting them. The duel, and its associated festivities, would be starting soon and he was expected to attend. Why was the blonde witch here? Who even was she? Why had Vassimir taken her from Moldred less than a day after she was bestowed on him? And most of all, why was she here?"

She had thought her father was arranging some sort of game with her. Maybe he would stage some mock fight or something as entertainment. This went well beyond that though. The way they were acting, the things they kept saying, the way they were looking at her, she had been stuffing them all into the part of her well-trained mind that she put things she wasn't supposed to think about. But now, the door was bulging and ready to burst.

"What's going on?" she asked, breaking the silence. "Master," she quickly added, as if it made the unprompted question less egregious.

The witch smiled. Vassimir looked at her father. Her father sighed.

"Give her the potion," he said.

The witch stepped forward, but Eve kept her eyes on him. "Please," she begged. "Father, what's going on?"

The witch paused. Vassimir said, "You'll have to tell her eventually."

Mevenmein stared at Eve, and she was sure he was going to yell at her, to slap her. But he just let out a deep sigh, and some of the anger melted off his face. He walked over and sat down on the box by where Eve knelt.

He stared at her, his remaining anger slowly being replaced with a look of exhaustion. "I was never supposed to inherit my father's lands," he began. "My brother was the knight. He had our father's height, and looked more like him than I ever did. But he and father both died, and I was left to pick up the pieces. I ran the estates, kept the clients happy, made deals and threats to keep our alliances intact. But, my most important duty was to produce an heir. A knight to continue my family's bloodline. I failed.

"I tried, of course, but all I ended up with were three sons and I don't know how many daughters. I had almost given up by the time I bought your mother. She was a pretty thing. She didn't have your height, but you have the same hair and a similar face. Sickly though. I never would have bought her, but..." He shrugged. "She was interesting. Smarter than most cunts. Clever. Most cunt are worthless once they leave your bed, but not her. She knew figures, and could pick up an instrument and in a few months it was like she had played it all her life. It just came naturally to her. She would say things, and it was like, suddenly the world made a bit more sense. Plus, she was the only one other than myself who actually knew how to balance a damn book.

"But, I knew she would never survive a child. So, against her wishes, I didn't have one with her. I kept her on birth control herbs, and honestly, I never planned to take her off them. At least, until the inquisitor showed up.

"He just appeared one day -- showed me the king's seal and all the right paperwork, but I never once doubted his credentials. There was just some air about him. He wasn't intimidating, but slaves shrunk away from him, and men were more polite around him. He had a witch that followed him everywhere. Young and gorgeous, and much better trained than this one here," he nodded his head at Josephine. She leaned by the wall, and tilted her head in acknowledgement, as if he had complimented her. "And just like this one, the king's own seal was above her cunt."

Eve stared. There was a brand on Josephine, but her corset covered the top half, and the metal panties she wore covered the bottom third. The king's seal was said to resemble a dragon. Maybe, if she squinted her eyes, she could make out something that resembled wings.

Mevenmein continued, "He told me the king himself wanted to conduct an experiment. He had a ritual which, he claimed, would guarantee the creation of a knight. He knew I was desperate, that I would leap at the chance. He was right.

"I never planned to give it to her though. There were other pureborns. But, I was young and stupid, and against all logic I confided in her. She convinced me. I had had her for over two years at that point, and she told me that there were rumors swirling about her and about me. It's not unheard of for knighthood to skip a generation. But, to not have a knight, and not even try to make one? That's courting disaster. She said she had to give me a child, for my sake. And if we had a knight, it would solve both my problems at once. She assured me she was stronger than ever, and would likely even survive."

"You can guess how it went. She didn't survive, and the child was a girl. A complete failure. The inquisitor appeared the next day and ordered me to the kill the child and hand over the corpse. I told him people would question what happened to her. He told me to take some other pureborn and raise it in its place. 'No one will even notice the difference,' he told me. Once again, he was right. He certainly didn't notice that the one I gave him was almost three pounds lighter than mine."

Eve stared, trying to take it all in. After a few moments, she said, "And that child, the one born from the ritual, that was me?"

"Obviously," Mevenmein answered. "I really thought I got away with it too." He glanced over at Josephine. "But I suppose that was too much to hope."

"What was her name?" Eve asked.

"What?"

"This cunt's mother. You've never spoken about her before."

He looked off to the side. Staring at nothing for a few moments. "Lill," he finally answered. "Her name was Lill."

Eve closed her eyes -- trying to imagine her. When she opened them, she was staring at Josephine. "And that's what all this is about," Eve said. "The inquisition found out, and wants to take me?"

"Of course not, darling," Josephine purred. "As I keep saying, I'm just here to watch."

"Then..."

Mevenmein took another deep breath. "Do you remember when I moved our family's crests out of the great hall?"

"Sort of. This cunt was still young."

"I did it because they started to glow."

"This cunt doesn't understand," Eve said, remembering seeing them yesterday. "They always glow."

Vassimir said, "Crests only glow when a knight is near them."

Eve's eyes went wide as she slowly began to understand what they were saying. Mevenmein stood up from the crate he was sitting on, and opened it. He pulled out a polished piece of metal, shaped like a buckler. On it was one of her family's crests -- glowing with a bright, white light. Even Josephine, who had been leaning against a far wall, stood up, and stared with wide eyes.

"The ritual worked," her father said.

Eve opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her mind could no longer process what was happening.

"Satisfied?" Mevenmein asked. "You've had your answers. Now then," he turned towards Josephine, "Give her the potion."

"You should give her the crest first," she said.

Mevenmein looked like he was about to yell something at her, but before he could Vassimir said, "I think the witch might be right, my lord. I've been present at a few knightings in my time. It was common for the young men to work themselves to the bone beforehand, sometimes even injure themselves. They would then take a healing potion right after they got the crest. Supposedly, the healing would improve the odds of a good binding."

"That sounds like nonsense," Mevenmein muttered. "But then again, so is the rest of it. So we'll do it your way. Eve," he said, holding the buckler in front of her, "kneel."

"Not like that," he said as she straightened her posture. "Like a knight, on one knee."