Eowyn: The Cage - Ch. 05

He heard her breathing stop for a moment. It was a shallow catch, and he observed that she didn't tense in fear. It was a pause of confusion, as if she couldn't quite figure out what he meant.

Well, she'll soon learn.

The cheeks he'd peppered with blows were turning into a bruised, marred field; a perfection sullied by his own hand. Climbing back onto the bed, he gripped her unresisting thighs and spread them wider. With neither warning nor preparation — none of the latter, at least, was necessary given her persistent arousal — he crudely forced two fingers into her slick sex and used them to hoist her pelvis upward until she was in a kneeling position. Her chest fell to the bed, and her head no longer dangled over the edge. He briefly caressed the stinging globes of her buttocks, then leaned down and in.

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Though she found herself in an even more humiliating and exposed position than before, when she felt his breath between her legs she sighed with relief. So it's to be more of the same. Since her plans didn't require denying herself this pleasure, she surrendered to it.

At first, his explorations followed familiar patterns. The reversal of her usual position (and it dismayed her that, with him, she already had a "usual position") meant new angles and motions, but the stimulation was the same, and soon sent her on an ascent to a mostly welcome climax.

When he reintroduced a finger into her pussy, she welcomed that as well. When a second followed, she groaned and pushed back against the intrusion, intensely aroused by his slow, steady penetrations. Meanwhile, he placed surprisingly gentle, soothing kisses around her abused buttocks, gradually moving towards her dark hole. By the time he reached it, the pulse in her cunt was reaching a critical plateau.

Then his tongue brushed against her anus.

He'd done this before, and when he teasingly threatened to penetrate her tense outer ring, she felt the same curious, slightly uncomfortable feeling as before. But then he distracted her from the impalement with a particularly forceful thrust into her throbbing sex, and she reared forward in surprise. His free arm circled the front of her thighs and pulled her back towards him. Again she acquiesced, letting his wriggling tongue have its way with her ass.

It was clear that this was no brief dalliance, for he was probing her with deliberation and intent. Why is he doing this? How can he want to do this? Isn't it more humiliating and subjugating for him than it is for me?

To her surprise, she began to feel an undeniable pleasure as he worked both her holes. The stimulation wasn't quite enough to overcome all her inhibitions and allow her to relax in full, but in his foul presence she didn't want to anyway. Still, this was a threshold she'd never known could be crossed, and a norm that she'd never considered could be broken. His steady pumping in and out of her overheated sex brought her infinitely more sensation, but there was something anarchically thrilling about the more forbidden act. So great was her curiosity at her response that, for a time, she forgot to hate him — and herself — for what he was doing to her body.

Meanwhile, he continued to lave, tongue, and probe her nether orifice. He didn't neglect her sex, and his sawing fingers kept her at an elevated level of arousal, but his primary attention was unquestionably devoted to her rear entrance. When his questing tongue briefly descended back to her cunt and stayed there for a while, thrashing with great skill at her clitoris, she felt a measure of relief at the familiarity.

It didn't last long. His index finger, bathed in her satiny liquids, suddenly probed past her unresisting sphincter. Before she could react he was buried to the knuckle. Against his fluttering tongue and impaling finger she bucked in shock. There was mild discomfort, albeit not as much as she might have predicted, but she felt an obligation to struggle against this bizarre and unwelcome intrusion, wiggling her hips in protest. He was insistent, slowly pressing his finger deeper until her movements subsided. His tongue abandoned her clit as he thrust three thick fingers into her pussy, stretching it wide, beating a slow, steady rhythm until she was wild with desire, oblivious to the unfamiliar presence in her ass.

The digit invading her anus pulled away, and he treated her rear entrance to another sloppy oral assault. When he stopped this time a second finger joined the first, plunging straight through her gripping orifice, and she gasped in shock; he was now rather forcefully widening her, and she experienced more than a little pain as her tight ring was repeatedly broached. Her resistance grew, for this was no longer strictly pleasurable, and even his increasingly aggressive possession of her cunt couldn't mitigate the rawness between her buttocks. Still, he continued to explore both holes with neither pity nor respite, and despite her confusion and discomfort, minor quakes began that presaged the major release she craved. Her ass felt like it was impaled on a post. But apparently he'll be able to make me come anyway.

For a few moments he paused his dual penetrations, removing his fingers from her ass and offering soothing oral attention to her distended anus. After the uncompromising insistence of his fingers, the softness of his tongue was a gentle, calming relief. As a result, when he reinserted his fingers yet again...first one, then two...any pain was largely gone.

She groaned as the fingers in her anal canal gradually probed deeper. Impulsively, he yanked his other fingers from her cunt, a small cascade of her juices following in their wake, and slapped the smooth skin of her ass, re-reddening a patch. Her shriek of protest was louder than any she'd sounded during his earlier spanking, and he grinned at the minor victory.

I've unbalanced her, regaining the advantage. And she still has no idea what I'm about to do.

He recommenced his three-fingered assault on her unresisting cunt, using more force this time, then pulled all his fingers from her body to admire his handiwork. Her ass and pussy angled upward, gaping and begging to be filled.

Éowyn quaked with arousal, and though keenly aware of her current vulnerability she still didn't attempt to escape, even as she felt him shifting position behind her. The slow and (initially) gentler dual penetration that followed was achieved with a single hand: two fingers worked her sex while his knobbed thumb probed her ass. She rocked back against his fingers, discomfort in her rear entrance no more than memory. She was building to an epic climax, and despite the strangeness of what he was doing, she knew that he wasn't lying; no matter his ulterior motivations, he really was trying to make her come. Though she wretched at the thought, she was too far gone to care.

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His patient entering, abandonment, and stretching of her holes had achieved his desired outcome: escalation to the brink of ecstasy without inducing panic at every unexpected and unfamiliar intrusion. Unfortunately for her, innocence has handicapped her imagination. If she only had a little more experience, she'd have seen what's clearly coming long ago. Well, I'll soon fill at least one of those gaps in her knowledge.

Fingers that had, earlier, probed her sex passed their absence circling his staff, coating it with her juices. He positioned himself directly behind her and again pulled his fingers from her grasping depths. Both orifices gaped open, inviting him inward despite her insistent protests against breaching the one and her ignorance regarding the other, and for a few moments he was beset by indecision.

No. Stick to the plan. There will be time and opportunity for the other soon enough.

He curled his forearm around her thigh until he reached her sex, stroking her clit with his fingertip. The pitch of her groans escalated until he knew he had her right at the edge. Taking a deep breath, with one uninterrupted thrust, he drove the first few inches of his cock straight into her ass.

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The penetration was different — she sensed that immediately — but her initial thought was that he'd somehow repositioned his thumb, making the contact smoother and less abrasive As a result, her first reaction was to welcome a more comforting form of his intrusion. But as it continued, and as she was stretched deeper inside than any his fingers had previously probed, she began questioning her initial guess. Then she felt his other hand — the one not already busy between her legs — gripping the outer curve of her hip, and his wiry hair tickling her sensitive cheeks, and even though she could neither believe nor comprehend the reality, she knew.

It can't be. It can't!

"NO!"

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The searing heat of her unplumbed channel should have been something for which he was better prepared, given his long manual stimulation, but as he sank his pole to the hilt in her ass, it felt like it was being rapidly consumed by burning lava. Despite it all, his sense of triumph was overwhelming.

To her sudden cry of realization and horror, he made only one reply. Pulling most of the way out, he gripped her all the more tightly, hissed "yesssss!" and thrust forward until his pelvis met the hard resistance of her cheeks. She shrieked again, struggling with greater fervor, but he effortlessly held her in place, his strength fueled by a lust that would no longer be denied, hers weakened by her arrested climax and the shock of a perversion of which she'd never even conceived. Without waiting for her to settle or protest further, he began a smooth, not entirely gentle, manifestly insistent plundering of her anal canal.

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All her writhing achieved little except to shift his cock around her channel, causing it to poke and prod her gripping interior walls as he thrust. I can't even bear to think about what's he's doing to me. This is impossible. People don't actually do this for pleasure, do they? Only animals who've no other option couple in this fashion, and the females always seem to be in agony. Eventually her struggles subsided, as they only led to greater discomfort rather than escape from her impalement. Her utter passivity was bewildering; rooted in place by incomprehension, strangely helpless against his incomprehensible assault, she remained locked in position, shocked at both the act and her acquiescence.

Suddenly, she was struck by an unexpected flash of memory....

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"...but it was that time for 'er...well, y'know women...so after I'd had 'er in the snout, I went 'round back and groomed 'er tail, if y'know what I mean." The raucous laughter that followed only added to the tavern's riotous din. "She whined a bit at first, sure, but by th' end she was shakin' right in rhythm. An' we did it again th' next mornin', too."

Éowyn had entered via a side door, cloaked and hooded so that none would recognize her until she was prepared to join one of the companies. More and more often, in these tumultuous but not yet desperate days, she slipped into the bibulous dens of Edoras (or elsewhere, when she felt a yearning for unfamiliar faces), seeking...she wasn't quite sure what. Hard drinking and the harder talk of battle-hewn Riders? The occasional but quickly aborted dalliance that she'd sometimes allow when sufficiently plied by drink? No, she guessed it was actually the forbidden thrill of that which was otherwise denied her. For while all acknowledged that she was exceptionally skilled with horse, sword, spear, and blade, there was little question that her general acceptance among the men was predicated on the fact that she was a desirable, and at least potentially available, woman. The boastful competition for her attention could be enthralling or exhausting, depending on the skill (or drunkenness) of the interlocutors and her mood, but her presence deformed any dynamic. And thus, despite her curiosity and her as-yet unaddressed yearning, she was increasingly cautious about situations into which she'd consider inserting herself.

At the moment, however, she remained hidden in the shadow of a pillar, trying to puzzle out the Rider's drunkenly slurred words. Obviously, it was some brazen innuendo of which she suspected she wanted no part, but to what did it refer? "That time" was obviously a woman's menses, or so she presumed, but then what did the rest mean? As she contemplated the possibilities, she realized to her horror that the subject had changed. To her.

"Speakin' of which, the Princess 'as a right beautiful one, doesn't she?" His voice was lower and more furtive, as if he was suddenly cautious about who might be listening, and she had to strain to hear it.

"Again with this subject? You talk and talk and talk, but have you ever done anything about it? Have you ever even spoken to her? I think not. Anyway, she's not a princess, she's the King's niece. I'm not even sure she's got a royal title, whatever blood courses through those lovely limbs."

"Lady, then. That th' right word, yer uppity holiness?" There were chuckles all around; clearly, his aggressive jest wasn't taken ill. "Anyway, it doesn't make what I said untrue. Have y' seen it? Not when she's geared up for fightin', but when she's fitted for a ride in those tight leathers of hers, or when she's in one of those clingin' white numbers for greetin' foreigners and the like? Stickin' out firm, high, and proud, it is, and I bet she knows it too. We all know she keeps in shape. By Eorl the Stallion," there were chuckles all around at the bawdy nickname for the Mark's legendary King, "that's a horse I'd ride bareback from here all th' way to th' Heath. And back again!"

"Aye, I've caught myself staring a few times. It must be a hell of a sight, and more if you're so lucky. Though both unseen and untouched by the likes of any low-born Rider like you, I'd wager." More laughs went around the table.

"Alas, you're right. Likely as not it's unbreached, or reserved for th' hapless proddin' of some fancy noble. Though I can't 'magine who. The Lady's never been seen with a-one, has she?" Murmurs eventually coalesced into assent. "So why not someone like me doin' th' proddin'? I reckon she's prolly layers o' ice under those wraps, but a good wrong-way over a bale might melt th' ice right quick."

"You know, the Lady's been seen in the taverns now and then, knocking back a tankard or two with us commoners. There's even rumors she's been up for a kiss or a fondle here and there, though the gents in question deny it with a fury...probably hoping for a repeat if they keep their traps shut. Perhaps someone should offer the Lady a proposition. A trick of the tail, so to speak." Avaricious laughter greeted this suggestion. "Ah...but hush, now! Some of the King's men just walked in. I don't think they'd 'get behind' this conversation quite like we do."

Puzzled, she withdrew back into the shadows. Of their banter she could make little sense. What was a 'wrong-way,' and what did her rear end — for that was obviously what they were talking about — have to do with it?

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The realization that what was happening to her right now was a topic of others' random consideration was a shock in itself. She'd not felt herself thoroughly ignorant of the hows and whys of sex, despite a near-complete lack of personal experience...at least until a few days ago, she noted, chagrinned...but this....

Her attention flickered, unwilling to confront the full reality of what was happening to her, and into that gap a new frame for her plight descended. She imagined herself in a stable, skirts hitched to her waist, bent over a bale of hay...just as the uncouth Rider had suggested. Several of his eager companions queued behind her, admiring her proudest feature and talking in excessively crude language about its aesthetic merits and what they were about to do to it, all the while stroking their exposed shafts to full readiness. Despite her humiliating exposure she felt a tingle of anticipation. But what were they waiting for? And why wasn't she attempting to get away?

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A flurry of insistent thrusts snapped her back to reality. Something had changed. Something that quelled any further protest.

It was starting to feel good.

Against all reason, crushing her rational mind's insistence that this was a filthy act, knowing only that her body was responding just as it had to so many other unwanted violations, she gave up her mental and physical struggles. Fingers still circled and plucked her sensitive clit, but it was the pole in her bottom that captured the majority of her focus. True to her mocking jest, his cock wasn't significantly longer or wider than his fingers, yet she still felt like a wild beast at the end of a long hunt, speared over and over again but still refusing to lie down and die.

As she took his longest strokes in and out of her ass, she realized that while there was indeed an inexplicable physical pleasure, there was a coequal thrill stemming from the fundamental wrongness of the act and her willing submission to it. That those emotions were, all by themselves, erotically stimulating only enhanced the power of the otherwise mindless friction. Even though she was sickened by the discovery she started moaning in rhythm with his thrusts, helpless to do otherwise.

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Gríma could scarcely believe his fortune, for this was turning out far better than he'd hoped. When her struggles ceased, he figured it to be a variation on her other refusals: she wouldn't dislodge him, but neither would she respond until climax — his or hers — forced a response. He was beyond caring, and intended to conquer her ass either way. But when she started to move and give voice to her obvious pleasure, his own ecstasy quadrupled, and it was all he could do to draw out the moments before his own eruption.

Increasing the pace and aggression of his thrusts, he leaned forward, gripping her breasts and using them as handles to brace his hammer-strokes. Despite his earlier fingering, her rectum was incredibly tight, and the sensation was quickly growing overwhelming. That she was no longer simply allowing him to take her, but instead participating in her defilement, surpassed his wildest fantasies, and he could hold out no longer.

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When he abandoned her clit to maul her sensitive breasts, she was sure her building sexual tension would abate as the disgusting reality set in. Instead, she was experiencing an unfathomably powerful explosion of pleasure from the relentless pinioning of her ass. Her groans morphed into cries, and she felt a telltale increase in the fluid flowing down her thighs.

I'm going to come. I'm actually going to come from Wormtongue plundering my ass.

That horrifying thought itself was the trigger, and from previously unplumbed depths of primal abandon she exploded. Thrashing, wailing, shaking as if beset by seizures, she undulated in uncontrollable ecstasy. Sight and hearing obliterated by her climax, the entirety of her universe narrowed to the brutal impalement of her ass and the volcanic eruptions of pleasure in her otherwise empty sex. Never before had she experienced or even contemplated an orgasm of this magnitude, and she wondered if she'd ever arrive at its end. If I don't, that's fine; it would save me from having to contemplate what I've done and who's done it to me.