Eowyn: The Cage - Ch. 09a

He was half right.

He felt her entire body relax. Her hand dropped to the outside of his thigh and her head leaned back alongside his. She twisted her neck to look at him with wide grey eyes and glistening lips, the firm cheeks of her ass pressing against his swelling manhood. Suddenly blind to their surroundings, he leaned into the kiss.

All at once she turned into an uncontrollable dervish, and before he could regain his bearings he was in the same position as his companion, pinned and defeated. Despite the sudden reversal of fortune, however, his situation was less grim. At least visually.

Éowyn's shirt had, in the midst of her frenzied motion, ridden up over one perfect white breast, its rosy tip stiff and prominent. Overstressed by her acrobatics and his grip on her waist, her tights had ripped along the side, revealing an enticing expanse of flesh all the way down to the graceful curve of her upper thigh. And though she sat astride him as she had the other, she was lower on his body, their loins in full contact. He briefly considered pressing upward, just to see what she'd do, but managed to convince himself it would lead to more trouble than it was worth.

At the moment only he could see her exposure, for she was facing away from the others. She stared down at him, breathing heavily, eyes smoldering, as she felt the length of his penis harden against her sex. Followed the trail of his gaze across her chest and down to the tear at her waist, she realized that his open and frank appraisal excited her. She knew she had to explain his error and turn this into a teachable moment, but she was having trouble concentrating.

"So what did you do wrong?"

Smiling ruefully, he answered in a low whisper. "From my current perspective, absolutely nothing."

Even as she tugged her shirt back down, she couldn't repress her smile of approval. "Well returned at last! But while I'm flattered, I require an answer."

He spoke up, aware that they had an audience. "I expected you to try just about anything, and I was even somewhat ready for that gymnastic move. What I didn't expect was that you'd just stop struggling." Wisely, he left what the details of what she'd actually done unspoken.

"And so?"

"And so here you are, on top once again." Her eyes twinkled, for she not only didn't miss the clear innuendo, she delighted in it. He's learning.

To her relief, her tights stayed in place as she rose, for their clinging grip on her body was otherwise thorough. Her nipples were entirely visible as they poked against her sweat-softened shirt. She offered a hand to her sparring partner, helping him to his feet and leaning in to murmur, "I don't suppose you'd let me face this way a few moments longer?"

He glanced down, grinning. "Actually, by not moving you'd be doing me an even greater favor." She followed his gaze downward and bit her lip to stifle a laugh, for his arousal was just as prominent.

They chatted for a few moments — this time at a volume the rest could hear — about strategies he might have employed, how she would have countered, and about the difference between defeat and surrender. When his breeches no longer stretched across his hardness and her nipples receded to faint outlines, they felt sufficiently composed to face the others. The younger man give his companion a suspicious and somewhat jealous glare. Éowyn, needing a few more moments to collect herself, turned and knelt to retrieve the bag she'd stored under the bench.

"What was that about?"

"What do you mean, Gréor?" she answered, pointedly failing to look at him while she rummaged through her belongings.

He chuckled at her transparent evasion. "Have it your way, my Lady."

<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

It's time to end this, she decided, pretending to search her bag while she tried to summon up a reasonable excuse. Not just because it's getting late, and not just because we've all done more enough for one day, but because I can feel myself being overtaken by lustful urges. I should retreat to the privacy of my quarters, and the sooner the better. Remaining here, with these three, presents too many risks. To all of us.

As if guided by malign fate, her fingers touched a cylinder.

She didn't quite know why she'd brought it to Dunharrow, and in fact until now had entirely forgotten that she'd done so. The desire to keep evidence of Wormtongue's betrayal close at hand? Some sort of desperate protective throw should matters turn ill? Though it was a decision made in haste in the final moments before departing Edoras, encountering it here and now suddenly filled her mind with possibilities. Possibilities...and conflicts.

It's wrong to manipulate people. This I know. But the next few hours could be so much more satisfying than repetitive self-pleasure, and they're all so attractive. Each in their own way, and especially Gréor. I'd guess that the other two will make up in energy what they lack in skill, but to be with a man of such experience would be thrilling. I could have two at my mercy, pleasuring me as I demand, yet still be at his.

Her resistance hovered on the brink as she imagined the lurid opportunities.

The powder has more than one use. It's used to plant suggestions, but also to veil memories. From the looks in their eyes, I don't think I'll need any mystical encouragement if rutting is all I crave. It's the probability of loose talk in the aftermath that actually holds me back. I can prevent that.

Her conscience nagged at her still, for it felt wrong. But as scenarios played out in her mind and her sex pulsed with desire, she found herself rotating the cylinder until it pointed towards Isengard — the subtle vibration she thought she'd felt the first time was entirely apparent now — and extracting a vial, speculatively rolling it back and forth in her palm for a few moments until she flicked it open with her thumb. Taking a deep, decisive breath, she surreptitiously licked three fingertips and touched each to the powder, then closed the container and buried it deep in her bag. When she stood to address the trainees there was a faint quaver in her voice.

"You've both done extremely well, you've learned a great deal in a very short time, and I've been able to learn a little about you. You, who I hope to have at my side should we ever need to draw swords together. I know I can trust you. I've nothing tangible to offer you in recompense for your time and effort, only my gratitude and admiration. But if you're willing, I'd like to thank you in a different way." She drew closer as she spoke. The youngest of the pair looked confused, while the older seemed as if he was trying to convince himself he was not hearing what she was quite obviously proposing.

"Éowyn...." It was Gréor, warning in his dark growl. She ignored him.

"But first, I'll need — from both of you — a solemn promise that you'll never speak of this. Do I have that promise?" She pressed her finger against the trembling lips of the younger man. He nodded, tense and sweating.

"And yours?" Another finger pressed into his lips. He kissed it as he answered. "On my honor, my Lady."

She turned to Gréor and knelt at his side, raising the third finger to his mouth. "And...."

He grabbed her wrist with a strange and tortured expression, hissing, "what are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing."

"This isn't even unwise. This is insane."

Resting her other hand on his bad leg, she soothed it with slow strokes of her palm. "Is it? Don't you like me, Gréor?"

"Stop that foolish coquettishness! It might work on the walking hormones over there, but it's wasted on me. You know very well that you only need ask to have almost any man, and I suppose I've made it plain enough though incautious speech that I find you comely. But what you're instigating is madness."

"Then share my madness."

"They'll never keep their promises. And speaking of which, I'm...."

She pulled her wrist free, interrupting him with a fierce look in her eyes. "They will. I'm sure of it. As will you. Hush, now. Let's not waste any more time." Pressing the third finger to his lips, she spoke to all three with a voice of command.

"If you choose to remain, from now on you will act according to your deepest desires, freely and without fear of consequence. Or you may depart if that's your wish. But once you pass through that doorway, you will only remember what happened up to the point we ceased sparring."

Walking to the door and locking it, she returned, straightened, and looked the youngest in the eye. Challenging. Waiting. Hoping.