Tags: rape, knifeplay, little bit of blood With the sun setting, the boy stepped out onto the pasture. They called him many things, most of them insults. Though, there never seemed to be any recognition in his eyes when they did. Normally, he’d prepare the chickens on the farm, but with the cattle as sick as it was he’d have to put them out of their misery. The other farm hands found it unsettling how little Caufield reacted while he dropped the cleaver onto the chicken’s necks, now they watched to see if perhaps there woud be some glint of remorse or sadness as he slit the the throats of the cattle. It was still getting dark, and the boy was covered in shadows but they could see that he didn’t give a damn as he drew a thin, red line across the cow’s neck. They joked and made remarks about his mental capacity. The truth was that they were all afraid of him. Caufiled was placed in the care of the farm when he was a child. Even then he seemed underdeveloped both mentally and emotionally. He had always been a hard worker, did what he was told, and never asked twice about it. Methodical was one way to put how he worked. Everything was simply a job to him. When the last of the sick cows were dispatched, he took them over to the ditch and tossed them in. “That’s all for tonight.” His caretaker and head of the farm, Telin, said as he tossed the boy a sack of coins. “Why don’t you head into town, get yourself something?” “What do you need me to get?” Caufield asked, his blank eyes showing some sort of confusion. “Whatever you want, boy. Get whatever you want.” This concept would have been simply for anyone else, but Caufield was a rather special case and he merely nodded and set out for the town. Looking around at the night life of the town he settled in a tavern. A home to adventurers seeking their next fortune. There he sat and ordered a drink. There was a dancer in the hall, a dark skinned dancer from the desert. She had been dancing all night and Caufield was not aware of how long his gaze had stayed. Perhaps that was what he wanted. “A girl like that dances for money, not for you.” A gruff voice came from behind him as a grizzled man with black hair and blue eyes moved to sit beside him. “I’d like her.” The boy said simply. “Wouldn’t we all? Girls like her are rare, girls that make you need them upon the sight of them.” Scratching at his beard the man raised his glass to the bartender to indicate a refill. “But when you see them, sometimes you just have to take them for yourself.” Finally pulling his eyes from the girl, Caufield looked to the veteran knight beside him. The knight had seen eyes like his when he’d examine his own face in polished silver. “You say take, just what do you mean by that, Sir?” “I’m sure you’ve got your own ideas, boy. Just take whatever you want, you’ve got the guts to do so.” Smirking the knight downed the drink he had been handed and set off for another section of the bar. With no more distractions, Caufield looked to the dancer again with a smile creeping across his face. “What did he say?” The bartender suddenly seemed mighty interested in Caufield. “Who?” It was as if looking at the girl had caused the boy to forget there was ever a man talking to him. “The knight. The Knight of Lies.” The barkeep said in a hushed whisper. “Knight of Lies? Why is he called that?” Caufield suddenly showed interest in something other than the girl. Though, she would be in his hands tonight, he was sure of that. “You haven’t heard? He strolled into town one day. Everyone who asked him just got a load of shit. Something about him being a big shot king. Another time he says he’s Malyn’s kid. Obviously, a contradiction. We all know that Malyns never paid his bills, hell I still got a tab from him and that bastard’s been dead for thirteen years!” Expelling a noxious cloud of garlic and beef from his mouth as he let out a harsh laugh. Caufield was disgusted. “He said he’d pay my tab.” Caufield said dryly as he stood from the bar and approached the dancer. As he got unreasonably close the halfling bard in the corner had stopped playing. Pressing his body to hers, he whispered in her ear. Even the bard’s sensitive ears couldn’t hear it. “Come with me to my room or I’ll kill you here and now.” She could feel his hidden knife at her side, frightened she looked up but no one seemed to notice his threat. “Yes okay!” She grabbed his wrist with both hands to push the knife away from her fleshy stomach. To everyone else in the bar it looked as though she’d grabbed his hand affectionately as he took her upstairs. The one they called the Knight of Lies smirked to see the boy take his advice and stood to leave, the bartender didn’t bother asking him to pay the tab. Caufield had practically thrown the girl through the door. “What’s you name?” He asked as he pointed the knife at her and slammed the door behind him. “Dalia!” She cried out. On the verge of tears she tried her best to crawl to the bed. She was questioning why she ever became a dancer. Snatching up her hair, Caufield pulled her head back and placed his knife at her neck. “You’re going to be mine tonight Dalia.” He whispered in her ear. “And if you don’t do exactly as I say, when I say it I’m going to slit this pretty little neck of yours. Do you understand?” She didn’t dare speak. She merely nodded at his request, but Caufield had other plans. He shook her and the knife sliced into her a bit, a tiny trickle of blood began to stain his blade. “Answer me, Dalia!” He practically shouted. “Yes, I understand.” Choking through her tears the poor girl didn’t even notice that she’d been cut, but Caufield did. Bringing his blade to his mouth, he tasted the blood like he did every time he was slicing cattle. That’s all she was to him. She wasn’t the girl of his dreams like he thought when he first saw her. She was nothing but sustenance for him. She was cattle. Though the beef was for his gluttony, she was for his lust. “Get on the bed and face me.” He pointed with his knife and Dalia finally noticed the blood with horror. Though she was obedient and didn’t skip a beat, she feared for her life just like any other human being. “Now, Dalia.” Caulfield played with his knife as he approached her. “I don’t want you to think that just because you’re playing along doesn’t mean that I will be going easily on you. I’m not holding back. “Why are you doing this?” She asked, though it sounded more like a plea. “I saw you and I wanted you. It was as simple as that.” As he reached her, he grabbed her skimpy top and sliced it with the knife. With the tight fabric gone her breasts fell free. The girl had said something, but it was hard for Caufield to hear over her sniveling. It was probably more whining he thought as his knife cut the fabric the covered her bottom. As the clothing fell away it exposed her labia. Releasing his already raging erection he pressed it at her entrance as he pressed his blade to her neck. “Look at me.” He ordered sternly. “I want to see the look in your eyes as I enter you.” Dalia turned to look at him. Her eyes were filled with tears and fear. Fear that he’d kill her anyway. Fear that he might accidentally do so. Or fear that she may say something to offend him. “Yes, of course.” She weakly replied. “That’s it. You’re getting the hang of this.” Treating her as if she had the brain of cattle. Pressing into her, he stared into her eyes and watched as she winced. Seeing her pain pushed him further. He wanted to press as deeply into her as he could. She cried out in pain as she took his last inch, but the cry only elongated when he pulled out and slammed into her once more. Her voice waved in pain and pleasure never quite stopping as he drove his cock into her again and again. In the bar below the halfling bard did his best to play loud enough to cover her cries of what sounded like passion. In truth she was jealous of her dancing companion. The wet sloshing of their sex rang out in the room as Caufield took what he felt was rightfully his. “Oh, that’s it.” The boy cried out. “I’m going to cum.” In truth, Caufield hadn’t lasted ten minutes but it felt like an eternity to Dalia. Feeling his warm seed in her as his dick shrank fell like a relief. Having collapsed atop her, Dalia couldn’t move. “Is that all you ask of me?” She said rather hopeful. There was a dead silence as Caufield thought for a moment. “No,” he said with a voice that lacked any and all emotion. “I have one last order for you. I want you to smile.” With that he took his blade and pressed it too her mouth as she screamed in horror. The bar patrons could not mistake that for a sound of pleasure. The more heroic of the bargoers had kicked in the door, but Caulfield was gone. All that was left in the room was Dalia, crying. Her tears leaked into that bloody smile of hers. Epilouge: Caulfield stoked his fire of the camp just outside of town. He thought of Dalia and how much fun he had with her. He couldn’t wait to find a girl in the next town over. A twig snapped behind him and he drew his knife on the intruder to his camp. “A tiny blade like that will do you no good against mine.” The Knight of Lies patted the sword at his back. “What are you doing here?” Caufield asked. “Do you know who I am?” The knight asked. “Well, they say you only tell lies, but the bartender said you were Malyn’s kid and well…” Pointing his knife to the black sheep sigil on the knight’s tabbard he continued. “That’s Malyn’s sigil. Proud Ram, facing right atop a green shield. Yours is black, because you know your father is dead and you filled it in like all the Malyns.” “It’s not for my father. It’s for my mother.” He snapped. “What do you know about sigils, boy?” “I know them all. I just get them.” “A red salamander, gold back.” The knight began a quiz. “House Smyth. They’re quite noble.” Cocking his head, Caufield asked a question of his own. “If you weren’t lying about being a Malyns were you lying about being a king?” “No, I wasn’t. I will be king. I’m going to marry the daughter of house Smyth.” “Smyth has no daughters. Only a son.” Caufield recited his knowledge of nobles. “What if I told you Smyth’s daughter is alive and well?”