Eowyn: The Cage - Ch. 17

[Setting the scene: the events of this chapter take place as the Rohirrim ride to Gondor. Éowyn has defied King Théoden's orders twice: first by disguising herself as a man named Dernhelm in order to join the ride, and second by inviting Meriadoc to come with her. Only Marshal Elfhelm is aware of Dernhelm's true identity. Théoden has just met with the chief of the Drúedain, who has agreed to show them a shortcut to the Pelennor Fields.]

13 March 3019 (Third Age), Drúadan Forest

There he is.

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Elfhelm glanced up from his conversation and saw her lurking in the misty darkness. Him, he hastily self-corrected. Whilst amongst our troops I must think of Dernhelm as a man. His converse with a nearby Rider faltered right in the middle of a sentence, and only with considerable effort was he able to manage a semi-coherent conclusion.

Their eyes met, and she...he...nodded, fading quickly into the shadows of Drúadan Forest. She's in a hurry. Though I suppose we don't have much time. Noting her direction, he slapped his charge on the shoulder and turned to leave. His singleminded focus caused him to clumsily stumble over the Halfling, who — temporarily bereft of his patron's protection — was quietly lurking nearby, trying to learn why the company's plans seemed to be changing. Failing to bite back an impatient curse, he found himself delivering a much longer explanation than he had patience or time for, before impatiently crying, "pack yourself up, Master Bag!" and vanishing into those same shadows, angling away from Dernhelm's route so that none might guess his purpose.

Once out of sight of the camp he slowed, deliberating. With one hand on his sword hilt he stepped cautiously through the woods, stopping every few feet to listen for footfalls he worried he might not hear until it was too late. These woods were known to be occupied, and while the natives his people colloquially named the Woses were primitive and generally unthreatening...in fact, their Chief was currently in the company of the King...he felt as if his every step was being watched.

And where is Éowyn? His vision faltered in the dim grey of the waning evening. It's better than the pure blackness in which we usually meet, but still....

A palm pressed into his spine, and another wrapped itself around his sword hand, staying his reflexive unsheathing.

"Don't move."

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Despite what I thought were highly attuned senses, once again I didn't hear her approach. He didn't berate himself overly much, for he guessed his failure wasn't one of skill, but rather of distraction. I haven't stopped thinking about her all day.

Arms encircled his waist. One hand dropped below his belt, tracing the expanding outline of his manhood, while the other slipped into the loop that would undo that belt.

His voice was the faintest whisper. "Éowyn...."

"Don't speak, either."

Exposing his shaft to the thick air, she worked him to full hardness...one hand gently caressing him from root to tip, the other massaging his dangling scrotum...in a teasing yet slightly impatient fashion. Elfhelm tried without success to suppress moans of ecstasy as she stroked.

"Close your eyes."

Circling to face him, she briefly abandoned his tumescence to lift his leather tunic and thin undershirt over his head. One hand circled his stiff shaft while the other drifted across his chest and down a muscular arm. When she reached his wrist she drew it towards the drenched locus of her arousal, and Elfhelm's phallus leapt in her hand as he realized that she'd come to him completely naked. She guided his fingertips along her slit and around the distended bud of her clitoris, then pushed one of his thick digits inside her heat. Guiding the action, thrusting against his invasion, she finger-fucked herself while her other hand danced over his cock.

"Bend forward. Don't open your eyes."

Elfhelm bowed, kissing his way down the exposed flesh of her neck until he met the yielding softness of her breast and the hard prominence of her nipple. With lips, tongue, and teeth he worshipped and worried her, and the pace of both her strokes and her thrusts against his impaling finger increased. She pulled a second finger into her greedy sex, her rhythmic moans accented by the wet slap greeting each penetration. Her body trembled, and with a frenzied rolling of her hips she climaxed, her cunt rippling against his fingers as her other hand squeezed his rod almost to the point of pain.

After a moment to catch her breath she pulled his fingers from her sodden depths, falling to her knees and regripping him at the base.

"Keep your eyes closed."

She resumed stroking, smoothing her palm over the rough texture of his shaft, measuring the weight and heft, then with a single plunge almost savagely enveloped him with her ravenous mouth, immediately drawing him right against the entrance to her throat. The suddenness and depth of the penetration caused her to choke and cough around his thick glans, and instinct demanded that she pull back, but her most wanton sexual urges were in control; she needed his cock right where it was. Suppressing her gag reflex, she laved his shaft with her tongue until equilibrium was restored. Her throat relaxed and she drove her face forward, not stopping until her lips were pressed against his body. The stretch and strain in her gullet were almost more than she could bear, but she forced herself to calmness, holding him there for a long minute, exulting in her triumph. But this wasn't how she wanted their encounter to end, and with a wet slurp she pulled free, a parabola of saliva dangling between his spear and her lips as she gasped for air.

She fell backward onto the grass, and as she descended she took his hands and pulled him to his knees. Though he grunted at the impact, his eyes remained obediently closed. Widening her legs around his, she again took manual possession of his saliva-coated cock. Another tug urged him between her spread-open thighs until his tumescence was slotted against her overheated sex. She removed her hand, gripping him about the waist and digging her fingers into his sides. Instinct took over and he pressed straight into her heat. Despite the copious lubrication that eased his passage, his width stretched her gripping channel in a most enticing way. Slowly but inexorably he drove inward until he was fully rooted, straining against the premature release that would arrest their union far earlier than either of them wished.

Pulling his head back to her breasts and wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders, she rolled her hips in invitation. Taking the hint, he arched backward and slid home again, delirious with ecstasy.

"Open your eyes," she moaned.

Elfhelm awoke to a dream.

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How many times since she came of age have I imagined this sight? This feeling? This pleasure? Yet never once did I fully anticipate the awe I'm experiencing. This is a joining beyond imagination, beyond belief, beyond reality itself. I must take care to bring her as much satisfaction as she's bringing me, for I want to do this again and again, consequences be damned. For her body I thought to lust, but now that lust achieves its inconceivable satiation I realize that her heart has captured mine. I didn't truly know it until tonight, but I love her.

Their low moans gave way to grunts of exertion as he pumped her, his strokes lengthening, gaining both speed and force. His treatment of her nipples turned animalistic, biting and stretching them upward in counterpart to his thrusting hips and in rhythm with her helpless gasps. Éowyn wrapped her long legs around his buttocks, willing him even deeper into her overstimulated cunt, and immediately convulsed in orgasm, muffling her sharp cry by sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

Elfhelm felt her fluids gushing around his rod and pistoned straight through her tremors, seeking his own finish. Though she was riddled with aftershocks, she nevertheless opened herself even more fully to his pounding, grinding her hips against his, goading him towards his denouement.

Suddenly, with a fierce twist of her body she rolled him to his back, riding him with athletic thrusts of her own. But even as she took him her eyes searched the darkening shadows, seeking for something — she knew not what — while he furiously sheathed himself deep inside her sex. I feel a presence. Something unfamiliar. Something....

His exhalations caught in his throat. His pace grew haphazard, then frenetic, and her attention snapped back to their union as she realized the imminent danger. In a blur of motion Éowyn tore her pussy from his hyper-stimulated manhood and slid down his body to take his pulsing shaft between her lips. Overwhelmed, he drove his cock violently upwards and released a torrent of cum into her quickly overflowing mouth. Whimpering with thirst as his streams repeatedly seared her throat, she enthusiastically swallowed his ejaculate, sucking with all her strength, pulling his creamy gift down her gullet. When there was no more to be had from the source her tongue slithered down his length, gathering a few rivulets of semen that had inexplicably escaped her greedy maw.

Lost to the raw delirium of his climax and its decadent aftermath, Elfhelm didn't see her rise to her feet. But when the cold air brushed his exposed and saliva-coated cock he reopened his eyes, looking up at her in wonder and gratitude.

Éowyn stood above him in unclothed majesty, wreathed in an aura of steam from the faint sheen of perspiration that covered her body. Her lips were bruised and raw, her nipples engorged with blood, her cunt a swollen spring of her endlessly flowing fluids. But something in her eyes arrested his study of her wondrous body, and once again their impenetrable distance stilled his tongue. What is this perpetually unreadable look that she gives me each night? He was on the verge of asking, but instinct warned him away, and he instead contented himself with rising unsteadily to his own feet.

Melancholy wrapped around her visage like a shroud. She moved closer, fingers tickling his sweat-slicked chest and tracing downward to offer a feathery caress to his still-firm phallus. Her breath warmed his lips, and he leaned forward for a kiss. But the very instant before their lips met she turned and fled, quickly disappearing from his sight.

Confused, satiated, frustrated, overwhelmed, and full of unanswered questions, Elfhelm gathered his own clothing, reassembled himself into decency, and headed back to camp.

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Éowyn leaned against a tree, her previously discarded garments in a pile at her feet. The strange presence that distracted her while she fucked Elfhelm was back, even more threatening than before. Nay, threatening isn't the right word. There's no actual sense of danger. I feel as if I stand on the edge of a precipice of unknown altitude; instinct demands that I step back to safety, yet the promise of the unexpected beckons me to leap. And there's more than just tension in the air. I feel...I feel watched.

She shook her head. I must be imagining it, for there's no one here. I'm probably just overreacting to the emotion I read in his eyes, for his feelings for me are plain. I acknowledge them, I'm somewhat honored by them, and in another time and place we might even have made something from them. But no matter how much I crave the feeling of his cock moving inside me, I must not allow him to love me.

Abruptly wrenched from reverie, her eyes narrowed and her breath caught in her throat. For she was no longer alone.

Three men, yet not-men, crouched low to the ground, several paces away. Finer details of face and form were lost to the enrobing darkness, but she could just barely make out their shapes: squat, unlovely, yet strangely compelling in a primal, atavistic way. They neither moved nor revealed signs or sounds of exhalation, and were her senses not fully alive she might have believed them graven. Yet the alternating chill and fire racing across her naked flesh warned that they were no statues.

These must be the Drúedain!

To her surprise (especially given her nudity) she experienced little fear, but rather a breathless curiosity. She couldn't quite see their dark eyes, but she could feel them on her, and she realized that they too were curious. Watching. Wondering. Waiting.

Did they look on as we rutted? How much have they seen? What should I do? What will they do? And why do I not flee?

As if drenched by a sudden rainstorm of boiling oil, a crippling sexual heat washed over her body, focusing the intensity of its fire at her burning center, and she immediately fell victim to a mysterious compulsion she could neither control nor understand. Her fingers were already busy between her spreading thighs, desperately stroking her throbbing clit and working her drenched channel. Wisdom and caution howled in protest, but she could no longer hear them. A wetness rivaling any she'd ever experienced flowed over her hand and down her inner thighs, its intoxicating aroma rising in the suddenly humid air.

Cautiously, one of the Drúedain moved closer. His natural scent was animalistic and heady, redolent of leaf, root, and untamed wildness, and in response her cunt virtually gushed fluid. What's happening to me? She pumped herself faster, harder, deeper...overwhelmed and utterly bewildered at her actions and her inability to regain control.

The other two drew nearer and she bit her lip, still incapable of staying her thrusting hand. A dim blur of motion caught her eye, and she gasped as she realized that all three of them were masturbating. Well, why wouldn't they? But this is madness! Why can't I stop? Have they cast some sort of spell over me?

Despite the warnings raging around the inside of her skull, her body refused to move. The frenzy in her loins was amplified by the frenetic pumping of her fingers. Her hips shook uncontrollably and her other hand violently squeezed her breasts, hard nails clawing into the tender flesh. Will they take me against my will? If they do, will it be against my will? She couldn't decide which outcome she wished for, and at this final surrender, she plunged straight into the explosive heart of a numbing orgasm. The fingers that she'd buried inside her sex joined their companions at her breasts, and as her hips gyrated she collapsed to the ground, spreading her legs wide to expose the eager vulnerability of her cunt, somehow needing them all to witness her in the midst of such powerful throes. She knew she should be terrified at the possibilities inherent in such blatant invitation. Instead, despite the volcanic outflow between her thighs, she was tingling with anticipation.

The boldest of the three took several great strides forward...but instead of penetrating her as she expected, he buried his pockmarked face between her thighs, greedily drinking her essence, forcing his knobbed tongue inside her convulsing channel. She threw her head back and wailed at the escalation of her ongoing climax. His companion soon replaced him, lapping with his own fat tongue as her juices flowed and her cries ascended in pitch. When the third took his turn slurping at her sex, noisily consuming her orgasm, she screamed in abandoned release and rolled to her side, curling into a fetal position. Consciousness fled, and she felt and knew no more.

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Meeting resistance at every layer, Éowyn's awareness slowly drifted upward through her bewildered, ecstasy-muddled haze. She blinked, trying to gain purchase on reality despite the blankness that surrounded her.

I'm alone. I'm naked, my sex is still quaking...but I'm alone.

Cautiously, she probed her sensitive hole. Did they press their advantage while I was unconscious? It doesn't feel like they did...though would I know for sure after Elfhelm? Uncertainty brought its own dangerous thrill, but she realized the pointlessness of recrimination or fear of consequence. I don't know why I stopped the Marshal, either. There's very little chance I'll survive to confront the danger of a fully consummated union. As her eyes readjusted to the darkness, she saw that the evidence of their restraint was before (rather than inside) her; the ground was streaked with a surprising quantity of thick semen that seemed almost luminescent in the virtually lightless murk. She shuddered at the memory of how wanton, sluttish, and dangerous her behavior had been, and then she shrugged. What does it matter? Why should I resist any decadence, no matter how unwise? For if not now, when? I have no future. Unless....

She paused, remembering the look in Elfhelm's eyes. For the first time since Aragorn's departure, a faint urge to live on flickered in her heart. But then her womanhood throbbed in response, and she grimly dismissed the brief hope. It's only a desire for more sex. That, or a hopeless death, are all that's left for this hollow shell.

Gathering her clothes and reassembling the components of her disguise, she stumbled through the darkness. In search of a night with no dawn.