Éowyn holds on for as long as she dares, summoning all her remaining strength to tighten her grip on his throat. One chance. It echoes in her head, a grim spur to her stubborn struggle to choke him. One chance, and no more. Make it count. If ever you were a warrior, make it count now.
She claws for his eyes again with her other hand, feeling the throbbing weakness of the old break, but desperately hoping for any advantage to distract him and weaken him. She is a feral thing in that moment, a wildcat caught in a trap. Each movement - his or hers - jerks her body around the painful intrusion of the vibrator, feeling like a punch below the belt, bruising deep inside her and stretching the abused flesh of her cunt around the hideous thing. It drags tears to her eyes, the pain and the violation of it, but she clings on doggedly until the moment that, with a dry snap like a breaking twig, her little finger gives way to his rough pulling. She isn't sure whether the pop she hears is it breaking or simply dislocating, but it doesn't much matter: the pain is sudden and blinding, and worse than the pain is the weight of his words and what they mean. He will break her wrist, her fingers, her arm - and then what? What will she have to show for it, but even less power and even more pain?
Abruptly, she lets go, and falls back against the chair, panting. Her grey eyes, red-rimmed and overflowing with tears of pain, glare balefully up at him, her teeth gritted until her jaw aches. The pain is a heavy knot in her stomach, a burning inferno in her hands, lancing jolts of agony right up to the shoulder. She can feel the blood between her thighs, sticky where she has smeared it with her movements. She tastes bile on her tongue.
One chance, she thinks again, more bleakly than ever. There it was.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2021-06-05 06:01 pm (UTC)She claws for his eyes again with her other hand, feeling the throbbing weakness of the old break, but desperately hoping for any advantage to distract him and weaken him. She is a feral thing in that moment, a wildcat caught in a trap. Each movement - his or hers - jerks her body around the painful intrusion of the vibrator, feeling like a punch below the belt, bruising deep inside her and stretching the abused flesh of her cunt around the hideous thing. It drags tears to her eyes, the pain and the violation of it, but she clings on doggedly until the moment that, with a dry snap like a breaking twig, her little finger gives way to his rough pulling. She isn't sure whether the pop she hears is it breaking or simply dislocating, but it doesn't much matter: the pain is sudden and blinding, and worse than the pain is the weight of his words and what they mean. He will break her wrist, her fingers, her arm - and then what? What will she have to show for it, but even less power and even more pain?
Abruptly, she lets go, and falls back against the chair, panting. Her grey eyes, red-rimmed and overflowing with tears of pain, glare balefully up at him, her teeth gritted until her jaw aches. The pain is a heavy knot in her stomach, a burning inferno in her hands, lancing jolts of agony right up to the shoulder. She can feel the blood between her thighs, sticky where she has smeared it with her movements. She tastes bile on her tongue.
One chance, she thinks again, more bleakly than ever. There it was.