Discovery

(Continued from: Delicious Death)

"Please hurry sirs," begged the portly house cook, "as there was some dreadful commotion upstairs and there's summat red dripping from the ceiling oer there!"

The three guards looked the woman over skeptically and one largish one, presumably the leader, said, "Alright, sirrah, we'll be lookin' into it."

Another, a large, well-muscled man, walked to the spot she'd indicated and inspected the red substance dripping from the ceiling with his finger and glibly spoke, "Yep, 'tis blood, it is!" He wiped his finger on his worn, brown leather breeches.

"Right then," said the leader of the bunch. "Looks like we got a possible crime to investigate here," then quietly he winked and muttered to the other two, "never know with these noble types," to which they chuckled agreeingly.

The leader turned to the cook, moved close, grabbed her crotch through the thin nightshift and, his breath smelling of onions and ale, and said to her, "maybe yous got something I need to investigate first, eh?" The other two guards snickered.

She pushed him away and growled, "nothin' you could handle, pig. Now, get up there and see what all that noise was about and maybe I'll not report you to your commander," then rushed down the darkened hallway, candle in front, one hand cupped to keep it from going out as she moved swiftly away from the leering guards.

"Oh, come on love, you know its been a right long time since one such as meself pleasured ye!" He shouted down the hall after her. Rebuffed, he turned to his fellows and spoke, "all right boys, let's do some investigatin'." The leader, Brak, started up the stairs and the largest guard, Arnold, hung back to let the smallest, Tristan go before him. As the biggest, he'd be best to bring up the rear, he rationalized.

As the three made their way up the stairs, Arnold looked back, keeping a sharp eye out for followers. Seeing none, he focused his attention in front of him on the stairs and he noticed Tristan's lovely little ass in tight leather breeches making its way up the stairs, each step Tristan took squeezing it slightly. Since Tristan had joined the town guardship, Arnold had been silently watching him and he now felt a rising sensation in his own breeches. Swallowing hard, he gripped the short sword in the scabbard hanging on his waist, trying to focus on the task at hand.

If these blokes were to find out he was into men, young men like Tristan, especially, there'd be hell to pay. Arnold found himself caring less and less lately though. Maybe he would confess his love for Tristan, they'd give Brak the slip, steal some jewels from this noble manor and buy a tract of land in the country and live together where Arnold could look at Tristan's dreamy ass every day. A sharp hiss from Brak awoke him from the musings.

Brak had reached the entrance to the room they determined to be just above the dripping blood on the first floor, and had stopped putting a finger to his lips. With his ear pressed to the door, he thought he heard some soft rustling in the room. The burly guard motioned Tristan and Arnold close and whispered, "I think we might have some noble games going on in there if you catch my meaning," and smiled lasciviously as he placed his hand on the door handle. They might get some entertainment and maybe even get their rocks off in the process. These scheming nobles sometimes were willing to do anything to keep their bedchamber secrets.

As Brak opened the door slowly, he stopped quickly, causing Arnold to stumble into Tristan from behind, the hard cock in his leather breeches ramming into Tristan's back.

"What in the hells, Arnold?" Tristan asked but Arnold made a face like he wasn't sure what all the fuss was about.

"Nothin'," Arnold said, glad that the somewhat dark hall hid his reddening face.

"You two lovers shut up and take a look at this!" Brak whispered excitedly.

Tristan and Arnold looked past his shoulder and nearly lost their breath. In the gloom of the room, the only light coming from a broken window that let in some of the growing daylight of the morning, they caught the sight of a beautiful woman laying on the bed, in fetal position, naked, her back covered in blood and her dark, curly hair thickly matted. Her pussy and ass were covered with blood too, her swollen labia protruding from between her thighs, blatantly visible to the three. All of them except Brak squirmed uncomfortably at the sight, unsure of whether to be turned on, sickened, or worried for their lives. Arnold took a step back.

"Where are you going?" Brak asked. "Ain't nothing but some whore left behind by one of these debaucherous nobles. Looks like she's still alive. Maybe we can have a bit o' fun tonight. Tristan, go over and see if she's alive."

Tristan looked around questioningly, clearly not wanting to go into the room which he now noticed smelled strongly of blood. A shove from Brak ended his questioning and he took a few steps into the room. On the fourth step he slipped in something in the dark and fell flat on his back, nearly driving the breath out of his lungs. When he found he could breathe again, he looked sideways and gasped in horror.

What was left of something that could loosely be termed as human lay on the floor, its torso ripped open and its contents strewn about the floor. The exposed inner lining of its ribcage shone wetly in the dim light of the room. The legs and arms had been gnawed on and the bones were visible in places. Tristan vomited uncontrollably and tried to stand, his feet slipping in the slimy blood that was all over the floor.

"What in the nine hells?" cried Brak, who steered wide of Tristan as he entered the room. "Shit," was all he said when he saw the mutilated corpse on the floor. He motioned to Tristan and ordered Arnold, "get the boy here to the next room up the hall and wait for me there. I got the girl."

Arnold reached under the arms of the still lurching Tristan and heaved him up from behind. Tristan's small frame gave way under Arnold's strong arms and Arnold carried him out of the room, turning left and moving to the next door. He wrapped one arm around Tristan's boyish waist and used his other hand to open the door. He put Tristan down on the bed, face first. Tristan groaned and squirmed on the sheets, still sick to his stomach. Arnold just watched him move around and again felt the uncontrollable swelling in his pants. His reverie was interrupted by the sound of Brak's heavy breathing at the door behind him.

"If yer done staring at the boy's arse, you can help me get this wench cleaned up. She's still alive, but barely," Brak said.

"I weren't lookin' at 'is arse, damn you," Arnold said unconvincingly and Tristan jumped up from the bed, anxiously looking through the dresser drawers in the room, throwing out things he imagined only a dandy noble would wear, looking for something more useful than silk leggings and poofy trousers.

"What're you doin', lad, " Brak asked.

The blond guard turned around, pointing to his clothes which were fouled with blood and vomit. "Tryin' to find some new clothes. These is ruined."

Brak ignored him and turned to Arnold, the mess of a woman over his shoulder, her pussy lips and asshole exposed to the room between delectable thighs and ass cheeks. The blood and other... stuff... covering them didn't even make them offensive, Arnold thought to himself. The strain in his pants grew.

"Stop leering, boy lover, this one's mine," Brak growled. He moved toward what appeared to be a powder room, entered, and shut the door behind him. The click of a lock ended the conversation and Arnold's hopes of tasting that lusty twat tonight. He turned around to see what Tristan was doing and found some new entertainment.

Tristan had his pants off, hopping on one foot trying to get another pair on, his smooth ass bouncing slightly with each movement. Arnold, still having a massive erection from earlier moved silently to a spot behind Tristan. The dresser on one side and the wall on the other caged in the half-naked young man nicely. Arnold smiled to himself, thought to himself, "Well its now or never," and unlaced the front of his trousers. His giant, thick cock spilled out, several drops of clear come leaving the tip and stretching toward the floor.

Arnold held his cock in one hand, smearing the pre-come and some spit on the head and stroking it to get a little more. He quietly but quickly moved up behind Tristan and pressed his dick against Tristan's naked ass, the young man's cheeks spreading around its slick and upward turned shaft. He reached around and grabbed the youth's penis in one large hand while his other arm went around and held his captive by the waist.

"Wha-," Tristan started to say as he felt an ungodly pain in his ass when Arnold forced his cock into the small hole. Arnold felt the warm anus stretch to accommodate his throbbing manhood and the rectum open up, pieces of shit grinding against his dick as he shoved his member further in until his balls smacked against the smooth skin behind Tristan's scrotum. He pulled out a tiny amount and jammed it back in an a few quick successions before he pulled it almost all the way out  and jammed it back in, the tight pink entrance loosening up with each thrust.

Tristan howled in pain but was unable to move, being lifted up off his feet against the wall by Arnold's large frame. The well-endowed monster of a man behind him held him in a vice grip as the cock that had impaled him moved roughly in and out, making his whole lower half feel stuffed. He felt like he needed to take a massive shit but as the impaler pressed into him, he felt an unfamiliar sensation rushing through his own member. His seed started spilling out of his dick of its own accord as tingling sensations forced it to stiffen in Arnold's hand.

"That's it, me boy. Hoped you'd take to it eventually!" Arnold grunted in the boy's ear from behind as he jammed his erection into Tristan one more time and held it while stroking Tristan's dick that was slimy from his milked semen. Tristan felt something hot filling him up inside as Arnold ejaculated, his huge body shuddering against Tristan's back. Tristan came almost immediately, covering the wall with his ejaculate.

He slumped in Arnold's grasp, unable to move, his legs weak and his ass burning. As Arnold's softening member slipped out, Tristan felt his heart skip a beat at the emptying of his rectum. He let out a long flatulence and what seemed like a gallon of semen spilled down his legs and onto the floor. He put his fingers back to feel the stretched out hole. By the gods it was sore and probably bleeding, he thought. "I'll get that fucker."

Arnold had collapsed on the bed face up, snoring noisily, his trousers around his ankles still. His cock, no longer looking ungodly huge, lay flopped to the side, the large hairy scrotum moving slightly with each snore. Tristan grabbed his dagger from where he'd stripped off his breeches earlier and quietly slipped over to where Arnold lay, oblivious to his approach. As he was about to grab Arnold's unit and castrate the dirty rapist, there was a yell from the room Brak had taken the whore. It sounded like Brak.

Tristan ran to the dresser and struggled to get the clean pair of pants on, ignoring the sticky fluids still clinging to his legs. He managed to get them on and strap his dagger and sword sheath around his waist. He was about to run out the door, down the hall, and out of that accursed house when a woman's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"You touch that door handle and I'll put a bolt in your skull," she said. He turned around and saw a loaded crossbow pointed at his head, held by a beautiful naked woman, the same one Brak brought in from the other room.

He raised his hands. "W-Where is Brak?" He stammered.

"Let's just say he is incapacitated... permanently," she said and then stiffened as she felt a dagger at her throat held by a very large man standing behind her.

"Drop it," Arnold ordered. She dropped the crossbow but it triggered in the fall. The bolt happened to impale the bicep of the arm holding the dagger and Arnold dropped it as he howled in pain. "You fucking bitch!"

She turned around and jammed her knee into his crotch while he was trying to pull out the bolt. She was smaller than him but still managed to double him over in pain. She shoved him with her foot and he stumbled back, crashing over the foot of the bed and falling to the floor on the other side. The boy she'd pointed the crossbow at earlier saw his salvation from Arnold's abuse in her. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out the door. "This way!" he cried.

"Wait, why should I follow you?" She demanded. "You were with these lowlifes!"

"Not anymore," he said. "But I don't care. You can follow me or not, I'm getting out of this gods-forsaken place!"

There was a loud fumbling sound coming from the room they had just left and she sighed figuring that, given the dead body in the master bedroom, and the other two near them, there wasn't much else she could do but follow this boy. She shivered as she thought about all she'd been through the last night. Her rendez-vous with a secret lover, the attack by whatever those creatures were, the rape, the torture, the capture again by these thugs. It was too much, but at least these were humans. She could deal with them. Those other things were beyond her. She sighed again and ran down the hall and stairs after the blond former guard, stopping to grab a cloak from the coat closet on the bottom floor to help hide her nudity and the violence that had been visited on her body.

(Next: Betrayed)