Eowyn: The Cage - Ch. 04

He pressed on, aggressively laving her sex, greeting its blossoming need by plunging one, then two knobbed fingers inside as his tongue abused her clitoris. He returned to worrying a nipple as he slid his tongue inward alongside his fingers, stretching and widening her channel while she gasped in near-pain but undeniable pleasure. Exerting a furious and distracting assault on her clit, he gradually added a third finger. Her scream caught in her throat, her discomfort and helplessness itself a form of ecstasy. Sliding his digits in and out...slowly at first, then with ever-increasing speed and vigor...set her on the familiar climb towards orgasm. She was on the verge of welcoming its arrival...for no matter the foulness of his violation, no matter how much she loathed the man — no, the snake! — behind the tongue, she could no longer deny that he gave her exactly the pleasure she'd secretly desired for so long. His skill in building and layering sensation, then pushing her into a mind-numbing climax had already been demonstrated to her (immense) satisfaction, and denying that he could do so again was pointless. Whether she acceded or not, he would easily wrest that from her. Given that she had no choice, she surrendered to the feelings and enthusiastically embraced her pleasure, aggressively thrusting her hips upward, fucking her own pussy onto his impalement. Her revenge could wait, and she reserved a quiet corner of her mind to continue the necessary strategizing as the rest of her body writhed in ecstasy.

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Her breath came quick and sharp while his tongue danced, striking its targets like a viper. Her sex clenched, reluctant to let go of every outward motion of his fingers. She was on the precipice of a bone-rattling orgasm when he stopped, yanking his fingers from her sodden depths. The wet, sucking sound of their release echoed around the room, and rivulets of liquid soaked into her already drenched sheets.

After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at him. There was lust there, but even more unmitigated hatred.

Too soon.

He reapplied himself, rebuilding her excitement. Her hips thrust and rolled in response, her sex a feast for his mouth that throbbed, bereft, whenever his tongue receded. He brought her to the brink, then stopped.

Without raising her head, she stared at the ceiling, struggling against her instinctive response.

Almost.

Once more he delved deep, exploring areas previously unreached, assaulting her clitoris with a furious barrage of stimulation, pummeling her spasming cunt with three hard fingers. She shrieked at the edge of explosion, hips undulating in anticipation. And again he stopped.

This time she didn't open her eyes. Panting, each wild contraction of her sex sending a new gout of fluid gushing around his impaling fingers, she asked of the empty air, "what do you want?"

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Éowyn shuddered in frustration, consumed by shame and slow-simmering anger, but also by an increasingly overpowering need to achieve fulfillment. Everything that was happening to and within her only added to her storehouse of rage. But at the moment, restrained and trapped, she could do nothing, and so she would acquiesce. Not to him — never to him — but to the sexual ecstasy he could provide. An ecstasy for which she was now desperate.

Though she asked her question innocent of the full measure of perversions he might visit upon her helpless body, she steeled herself for what might come. Had she been able to read his mind in that moment, she would've been horrified at the options he was considering. But to her there were only two possible answers, and as she was determined to deny him both, her question felt like the first step to victory.

His immediate response was, even to her, no great surprise. She felt the bed shift, his hairy thighs abrading the sides of her breasts, and now the hard mushroom head of his cock pulsed mere inches from her face. The wiry hairs of his scrotum tickled her neck as she turned her head away.

"No."

"Éowyn, I don't think you perceive your situation clearly. You aren't being offered a choice."

"Nonetheless, I refuse. I can't stop what you're doing to me, but I don't have to willingly participate in my abuse. Nor shall I." She held her voice firm even as her conscience nagged at her over the partial untruth, for her body was very much participating in its defilement even if her mind rejected it.

"As you wish, then. Because of your refusal, I'll take you according to my desire until I'm sated, and then I'll report your assault on my property and person to the King. Or, perhaps," he said in a lower, more threatening tone, "I'll first invite select colleagues to help...interrogate you. How great is your stamina, fair Éowyn? How many men will you entertain to ensure my silence?"

She closed her eyes in an agony of indecision. She couldn't do what he asked, but his alternatives seemed even worse. The King mustn't learn I disobeyed him until I've proof of Wormtongue's treachery, nor can my current travails become public knowledge, because I won't win a battle in which my word stands athwart his. And I can't let anyone else join in my abuse. But I still won't let him fuck me.

"I can't."

"That isn't the same as 'no,'" he interrupted. "You can, and if you don't know how I'll happily instruct you. Accept this, Éowyn, and I'll reward you with even greater gifts than you can imagine. You already know a little of what I'm capable. There's so much more."

Despite his pleading, her hatred for him only increased. She loathed him for his arrogance, his presumption, and especially for his truth. She couldn't deny that he was likely capable of fulfilling these and other promises, and that acquiescing would be a certain gateway to pleasures beyond her current imagining.

Nonetheless....

She'd known since she woke bound and powerless that he would, before he left, attempt to force her passages in one fashion or another. But she had one last desperate card to play, though the negotiation to come revolted her. Taking a steadying breath, she turned her head back towards him, eyes still tightly closed, and opened her mouth.

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Thrilled at his unexpectedly easy victory, he laid the head of his cock on her lips. She accepted its presence without rejection or reaction, but she didn't move. He pushed it over so slightly inward. Still, she offered no response.

Changing the angle, he eagerly plunged his rod deeper into the wet heat of her mouth. The breadth of the intrusion forced her lips to close around it, but she held her tongue firmly to the side. He steeled himself against the bite of teeth he already felt scraping against his sensitive head, but worse did not arrive. Neither, however, did his expected pleasure. She might have listlessly acquiesced, but it was clear she wouldn't help.

Perhaps it doesn't matter.

He pulled back until nearly dislodged and then thrust forward...even deeper this time, feeling her teeth dig in with more strength than he liked.

"Éowyn, open to me. Release the tension in your jaw." Grunting a sullen acknowledgement, she opened her mouth ever so slightly wider, her expression one of boredom and indifference to this unwanted act.

He experimented as he gingerly pumped her mouth, surprised to find that she could take his full length despite (to his knowledge) being an oral virgin. The effortlessness with which she accommodated him almost to the entrance to her throat without gagging might have been exquisite were it not for her utter lack of participation. But she adamantly refused to give him the twisted satisfaction of choking or struggling against his intrusion, and finally he wrenched his cock from her mouth in frustration.

This is all wrong. I could try to enchant her into greater enthusiasm, perhaps, but it would be an inert satisfaction. And this is like being fellated by a corpse. She responded well enough to my tongue, earlier, without my having to employ any tricks. One way or another, she'll learn to offer pleasure in return.

Though she showed no external sign, she felt a secret sense of satisfaction...at least, as much as possible given her predicament. Though she'd been forced to accept his loathsome manhood into her mouth after all, she'd won a minor victory. Her body he might bind and use — apparently she could neither help nor arrest that — but her capitulation to anything other than receiving pleasure would be denied him.

But she didn't count on his determination to break her. Again he pressed through her lips, forcing his cock as deep as it would go, feeling the soft tissues at the entrance to her throat tickling his glans. Then he pinched her nose, sealing it tight. Her sudden, panicked desire to breathe caused her oral cavity to convulse around his length, forcing her tongue against his stiff column, and he groaned at the sensation.

He withdrew a few inches as she coughed and gasped for air, then plunged inward once again, still holding her nose tightly closed. This time, her teeth clenched with threatening force. "You're hurting me," she mumbled around his shaft, and for the first time he wondered if she might bite down in retaliation after all.

I don't actually want to hurt her — not yet, anyway — but do I understand that her objection is no longer to the act, but to its form? He caressed her neck, circling her lips with his rod and leaving a trail of salty translucence in its wake. Then he edged back inside her mouth, waiting.

"If you would not have me use force, then engage your tongue."

There was a long, silent pause while she considered her options. And then she complied; thrice, in thrilling submission to his demand, letting her tongue travel around the circumference of his throbbing pillar. For the first time she tasted the bitter salinity of a man's seed straight from the source, though her immediate rejection of the flavor was inseparable from her loathing of the person whence it came. And then, abruptly but definitively, her mouth fell slack and she turned her head to the side, his glans trailing saliva across her cheek.

Though she found it difficult to form coherent words, she managed a simple declaration: "I can't. I won't. Not anymore. Do your worst — every moment that passes in your company is against my will — but I refuse to do that for you ever again."

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His sex throbbed with unsatisfied arousal. I will be inside her before this night is over. The question is where?

He could continue forcing her to take him orally, whether or not she was willing; he greatly desired to fill her mouth with his seed and watch her swallow it. But that could wait, for her refusal had unwittingly illuminated a different course of action. One that would, whether she wished it or not, increase her desire for him.

I've been going about this all wrong. She can sometimes be talked or cajoled into thinking as I wish, just like anyone else. But once she's aroused, the path to her acquiescence isn't through her ear, it's through a different orifice. Only moments ago, with an orgasm repeatedly held just out of reach, she was desperate enough to ask me what I wanted. She refuses me now because she's forgotten that pleasure. A deviously twisted plan coalesced in his mind. If I present her with the least desirable alternative, then give her what she craves in another way until she's helpless to resist, she'll certainly beg me to do whatever I want.

"Éowyn, since you won't accept me in your mouth, I have no choice but to slake my desires in what I have to assume is your very willing cunt." She winced at the vulgarity of the term. "Open to me. Though," he laughed, "I guess you've already done that. More than once, and screaming the entire...."

She twisted more violently than before, ignoring the weight of his shaft against her face as she realized what he intended. "No! Please don't!" I hate myself for being reduced to begging, but it's necessary. "Please, Worm...Gríma! Gríma! Please, please, please don't do this!"

"Why not?" He slid down her body, nestling his cock between her nether lips, slotting it back and forth against her sensitive clit until she couldn't hold back her groans. "Protest if it makes you feel less guilty, but your body's preference is clear."

A copious outflow of fresh lubrication poured from her sex, coating his shaft as he teased her entrance, and she fought with all her might against her unwanted sexual instincts. "Because I have no defense against your issue. Would you leave me with child? How could you explain that to the King?"

Yes I would, and will, and even if the King still lives by then he'll be in no position to question me, he thought. But at this particular moment, the rightness of her argument was unassailable. There's no telling quite how long it will take for all Saruman's plans for Rohan to come to fruition. And anyway, I have my own elaborate plans for her flesh that aren't particularly compatible with pregnancy, much less child-rearing. Still, I won't deny myself for long. Perhaps there's some sort of wizardry that will let me ravage her without consequence. Well, without consequence to me, anyway. I'll take this up with Saruman at the next opportunity.

"Very well, Éowyn. I present you with a choice. You may enthusiastically pleasure me with your mouth, you may accept the risk and give in to your obvious desire to have me inside you, or...." He let the thought dangle, unfinished.

What does he mean? "I will not open my mouth to you. Not again. And you can't penetrate me without risk...to me, but also to yourself. There's nothing else you can do. Untie me and leave, and I'll forget this happened." She almost smirked, defiant despite her edge-of-climax yearning. She still felt she was winning a throw, no matter how fleeting or minor each victory.

He chuckled. "Oh, my dear Éowyn. You have so much to learn. If I stop...if I leave...you won't achieve the climax that your body so desperately craves. But I won't untie you, and so you'll still be here, naked and exposed, when you're finally discovered by those I send to check on your condition. Good luck explaining your newfound enthusiasm for kinky bondage games to the satisfaction of...well, pretty much everyone, since I'll make sure the story is spread far and wide even before you're exposed." She gasped in horror at the prospect. "Also," he smiled, playing his final bluff, "the very next thing I'll do will be to make public your defiance of the King's orders. For I'm sure that whatever you took from me is in this room, and you're clearly in no position to arrest my search. Especially if I arrive with others...and who knows where they might wish to look, or how deeply they'll wish to probe?" he added with a salacious leer.

She fought with all her might against the involuntary widening of her eyes, for his threat was indeed frightening. Could he actually find my hiding place? The answer seemed obvious. He's a master of deception and guile. Of course he could. I can't risk it.

Gríma reveled in the struggle playing across her face. I guessed correctly. If she had something incriminating, she'd be gloating, or at least trying to hide it. She possesses nothing of importance, only a vain, phantom hope. What she actually fears is humiliation in front of the King and the people.

"And so, I will now take you as we both wish."

"I can't. You can't."

He smiled, then shifted downward, bending his head to her sex. Fluttering his tongue against her defenseless clit, he quickly reenergized her arousal, and as he worked her to the brink of climax she silently damned her traitorous flesh for continuing to throb, burn, and need.

I could keep this up all night until she's ready for anything, but once again I'm moving too hastily. It's not yet time to push her as hard as I can. She can be convinced by pleasure, and so that's what I'll give her. I can barely restrain my own lust, but am I not more her master with every encounter? I can wait. Not much longer, but I can. She'll be on her knees, begging for my cock, before the week is out.

Standing at her side, he tugged on one bound hand until it met his raging staff, then wrapping her fingers around its circumference. "Stroke me."

"No."

He bent over to suckle her breast, pushing two fingers inside her pussy, moving them in and out while her hips pumped in sympathetic accord.

"Stroke me."

"No."

He could tell she was getting close to orgasm, and slowed his motions. Her hips lifted off the bed, trying to recapture his fingers.

"Stroke me, Éowyn."

"I...."

He gently pinched her clit, worried her nipple with his teeth, and began thrusting his shaft through her curled hand while probing deep inside her sex, massaging and widening her soaked channel. Though she was still incredibly tight, her lubrication and arousal were such that she accepted him with ease.

She shuddered, eyes pinched tight, and suddenly her hand began to move of its own accord. He slowed his own pumping to let her explore the unfamiliar motion. A deep flush afflicted her cheeks and she turned her face away in embarrassment, but she didn't stop stroking.

He accelerated his assault on her body, driving her towards the peak he'd repeatedly denied her. The pace of her tugging increased, as did the firmness of her grip, and he could feel himself getting close to his own climax. Too close. He introduced a third finger to her grasping pussy and increased the speed of his thrusts, driving deeper and harder with relentless force, drawing more of her breast inside his suckling mouth and biting down hard on her distended nipple. He knew his aggression would leave a mark, and his already precipitous arousal increased at the thought, for though he knew she had no other lovers, he greatly desired to brand her as his.

Her head now swung from side to side, legs flailing against their restraints, and she cried out uncontrollably. Her sex was an ocean of lubrication. She, too, was on the brink.

He pulled his fingers from her sex and his spear from her hand, but her fingers remained coiled, pumping a now-imaginary column. He climbed between her legs, staring rapt at her stretched-open entrance as it pulsed and clenched with every heartbeat. She looked up at him, desire, fear, and panic in her desperate eyes.

"Please," she whispered. "Please...."

"Please what?"

"Please...please...no...." The last word was no more than a breath. She almost said yes. Next time, she will.

He fitted the length of his cock against her entrance. She was so swollen with excitement that her labia was like a wet sleeve gripping the sides of his phallus. And then he thrust...not in, but forward. The unfamiliar but primal friction against her clit changed the tenor of her pleasure, and the orgasm teetering on the verge of explosion repositioned itself deep within her cunt. He sawed back and forth, not penetrating but clearly mimicking the act of copulation. At the commencement of each bold stroke, the head of his cock pushed against and then snapped past her hyperextended clit, each time drawing a sharp cry from her throat at the intensity of the stimulation.