Eowyn: The Cage - Ch. 04

He reached beneath her, grasping her flexing ass and pulling her sex even tighter against his oscillating pole. One finger wandered inward, pressing against the pucker of her anus, prodding her tight ring as her hips joined with his in frantic oscillation. Virgin though she might be, her body responded instinctually and passionately to a timeless sexual rhythm, eagerly seeking any contact that might elevate her pleasure.

Finally, overcome with furious quaking, her climax arrived with thunderous force, and she lost what little control she had left. Her pelvis rotated backward at an impossible angle, impaling her ass on the tip of his probing finger. Her clitoris caught the head of his manhood at the precise moment of his most aggressive upstroke yet, and instead of releasing it, pushed it downward and inward. The tip of his organ slid into her scalding cunt; only an inch, but it was enough. Pinned front and back, she wailed in ecstasy.

I'm going to come. Now!

With a tremendous effort of will, mindful of the danger of losing control, he slid from between her shuddering thighs, straddled her chest, and aimed his cock at her breasts, unleashing a torrent of seed with a guttural roar. It splashed and flowed in thick rivulets, clinging to her nipples and crawling like lava down the sides. He came, and came, and came until even he couldn't believe the quantity of it; decades of pent-up lust for a once-unattainable vision finally made manifest through the sheer force of his limitless ambition. Her chest was coated in his ejaculate. I've marked her indeed.

Surveying the evidence of his glorious conquest, he took a moment to marvel at the thick, glistening layers of semen crisscrossing her breasts. And then, without further word — for nothing else needed to be said — he gathered his clothes and quietly dressed, freeing one of her wrists just before he left the room. This time by the door.

Éowyn remained in place, motionless and sickened. Despite the opportunity for freedom, for respite, for cleansing, she couldn't muster the will to move. Legs spread wide, cunt obscenely stretched and still drooling post-orgasmic fluid; clit pulsing; breasts mauled, bruised, bitten, and painted with his seed; she was paralyzed by shame and stunned by her inability to master the eager betrayal of her body.

There are so many more ways I could have resisted. But unless I can expose his treachery, I don't believe he'll ever stop...and if he doesn't, I don't know if I have the strength to make him stop. So what does that make me? His victim? His possession? His toy? His unwilling...or willing...slut?

At the core of her misery was the painful realization that, in the end, she'd enjoyed much of what he'd done. Worse, she'd ben on the verge of begging him to take her in the very way she'd refused only minutes earlier. If he'd so much as tried — if he'd plunged straight into her virgin hole — she might not have been able or willing to stop him. Even knowing he'd fill her vulnerable womb with seed, she might not have arrested the pleasure her loins craved. Her horror at this realization brought her nothing but crushing, humiliating regret.

I have to find a way to stop him before I give in again. I have to. If I don't, I'll lose myself to that monster forever.