House emblems sewn into banners flying above the tents were set up in the arena around us. The nobles had brought their whores and their liquor to celebrate the night. No man is happier than when drinking and fucking.
I should know best; I am usually part of the entertainment. To laugh, to mock, and to enjoy in every way possible.
Cruelty doesn't look better, no matter where you're looking from, even when you have a higher station than anyone else.
I drink in the midnight fresh air, the humidity making my costume stick to my back. I enter my tent, barefoot and drunk. The scent of scented candles is placed in my tent, sandalwood oil. Someone has lit them. A gift?
I hear his voice: "So your entertainment is open to the public now?"
The origin of my least favorite noble, the Duke of Blackwood.
"Only to the royal court," I answer. I smirk, cutting him a gland, "Gerald." He frowns, not liking me calling him by his personal name.
Adorned in a green vest with the crest of his house, crossed swords on a green background.
He looked at his gold watch pocket that he liked to check every few minutes. Of all the different lovers I've had, he was definitely a certain type.
At one point he liked to ask me to pick up shards of glass that he used to break on the floor so I could pick them up and hurt myself. Then he would take me to his bed. "Don't move, I'll help you," he whispered lovingly as he licked my wounds. As if he had nothing to do with the wrongs he'd done me.
He was the kind of person who not only liked pain, but also reveled in it.
My mouth curls into a smile without meaning it. It's my reaction to pain, I can't even control it at this point.
I don't even turn for his answer. On instinct I try to get out, I take a few steps back towards the tent door.
Suddenly, a strong hand grabs my wrist and pulls me. His other hand moves to my neck so fast I can't escape it.
He's choking me.
"I tried to buy you from your master, Your Majesty. He refused." He used the bored voice he used for small talk. As if he had nothing to worry about, as if he had all the time in the world. "He said you were a gift from your ancestral land. What was the name of your land?"
I couldn't breathe, but I replied anyway, "Mistbyrnes."
"I heard your land was very rich. Why were you sold?"
Tears streamed down my cheeks, my face felt red. My mouth opened, trying to breathe. My desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. I could see blurry, black dots flickering from my eyes.
He didn't even bother restraining my hands. I blindly search for anything to help me battle this. I clutch onto the belt of his waist, finding the hilt of a knife.
Well, really thinking about it, I yanked out the knife, jutting it into his skin.
I take a step backward, trying to blink out the haze overtaking me, blood spills over his palm.
Holding his hand in a rack, thus bleeding his shirt, green and red now. His face barely shows any reaction from him, a slight shift of pain. The veins in his forehead are starting to pop, he's angry.
My eyes are blinking and struggling to adjust. I held on to my weapon as tightly as I could, my heart pounding. For a moment I tangled with the blade of the knife in my hand, a glint in his eye against his determination.
He easily took the knife. I'm defenseless. Fuck.
I do not know what he saw, but the next thing I know, he snatches it from my grasp, and I lose my footing.
On my hands and knees, my chest rising and falling, staring at the grass, he tilts my chin, the glint in his eyes growing into something scary that I cannot name.
I still breathlessly, but manage the words. "What… do you want… from me? "
"Isn't that clear?" The lord raised an eyebrow. He scanned my body lustfully. Wanted to drink, tear my body apart, and rebuild everything.
Gerald tried to hold my hand. "I want to buy you, keep you as my pet."
I shook off his hand off me. He thinks it turns me on, but it really doesn't.
A wave of disgust surges through me, my guts trying to fight against me with the knowledge that I'm trapped.
No, I'm not going to this monster's court. There has to be another way. I know better than to show him my true feelings. I tried to keep my reaction still, but fear was starting to bleed out.
This is common knowledge, that royal houses stealing servants as a show of power.
I took a step back, trying to keep my distance from him.
He took my wrist and twisted it around my back. I lunged at him and yelled, "I'm going to kill you."
He licked me from ear to neck to ear, sending an unwelcome reaction through my body. He smiled, "Sure, my pet." A shooting pain shot up my spine.
I could beg for mercy, as well as beg to be killed. But if I stayed quiet, I would suffer much worse. I could signal for someone to help me, but there was no assurance that they would actually help me.
"I like my pets wild. They're easier to tame after this." His arousal pressing down my pelvis bone. He gently tucked my hair back, an apologetic look caressing me, breathing in my scent.
This was definitely him. Violent and furious, then gentle and loving, and finally murderous.
I'd never stay in the bed of a lover that I didn't trust. Not when I have no other choice. Right now it doesn't seem I'm given a choice.
He tightened his grip, and I screamed. It feel like he's about to break my shoulder. I try to tell him to stop, but he covered my mouth. His kiss touched my ear, a slight shiver ran through me.
Don't worry, you will love it eventually. Fuck no, fuck this. I will die before I come to this man.
I make a snap decision, biting as strong as I can, but he doesn't let go. He seems to enjoy the feeling, distracted by it. He slightly loosens the grip he has on my shoulder.
Although I'm drunk as hell, I could still pull off my routine in my sleep. I close my eyes, adjusting my feet into the air, jumping, then backing up towards him, the back of my foot hitting his hardening cock.
I'm the one on top of him, his bulge quickly fading, and the flash of terror is satisfying as hell.
We both see at the same time the knife that I grabbed from him before, still with the slightest color of his blood. I grab it first.
Anger blinds me, sharpening just like the knife in my hands, feeling like true power. I stab the knife into his chest again and again and again until I'm sure that he is dead.