Éowyn's face was hot with embarrassment, and a strange sort of guilt. She had really thought she'd hidden her nighttime activities well enough - never touched herself when there was even a chance that anyone was around, never allowed herself to make any sound louder than a low gasp.
She's bluffing. Has to be. There was no way Vanessa could know, only suspect - although, Éowyn realised with a sick certainty, her own embarrassment at the idea was a confession all on its own. That thought, of course, only made her embarrassment worse, her blush spreading across her bare breasts as well as her face. She was ashamed enough by her fantasies even without anyone knowing about them, ashamed to admit even to herself that any part of her had enjoyed Vanessa's bullying.
And now she was to show it as a performance? This was worse than she had imagined: worse because at least when Vanessa was physically forcing her, she could deny her own part in it. But this...
There is no choice, she reminded herself, resolutely. You are the sacrifice.
Slowly, reluctantly, she cupped her hand, pressing up through the dress to her cunt. She had to bite her lip to keep from gasping - even through two layers of cloth, the pressure sent a sharp jolt of arousal through her. The chain between her wrists clanked quietly as she set to work, closing her eyes and trying not to feel Vanessa's eyes on her - or, maybe, trying not to let that be part of the thrill, part of the shivers of ecstasy that were already running up inside her like a pillar of lightning. She did not like this, would not allow herself to like it... but there was no denying that part of her wanted it with a ferocious need that went far beyond liking or not liking. Her bare breasts, pressed together by the way her arms were tied; her skirts rough and coarse against her swollen clit; the light wind against her hot skin; the knowledge that this would not be the last humiliation or the worst - somehow, all those things and more combined into a heady exhilaration, and without thinking, Éowyn changed her movements, rubbing harder and faster, biting down on her lip as her breath caught and her head tipped back. She could feel the heat between her legs, a furnace begging to be fuelled; she knew, with a sick certainty, that if (when) Vanessa raised her skirts, there would be enough liquid there to cling to the coarse hair and trickle down the inside of her thigh.
She had never been more humiliated, more miserable, or more aroused in all her life.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-09-01 09:41 pm (UTC)She's bluffing. Has to be. There was no way Vanessa could know, only suspect - although, Éowyn realised with a sick certainty, her own embarrassment at the idea was a confession all on its own. That thought, of course, only made her embarrassment worse, her blush spreading across her bare breasts as well as her face. She was ashamed enough by her fantasies even without anyone knowing about them, ashamed to admit even to herself that any part of her had enjoyed Vanessa's bullying.
And now she was to show it as a performance? This was worse than she had imagined: worse because at least when Vanessa was physically forcing her, she could deny her own part in it. But this...
There is no choice, she reminded herself, resolutely. You are the sacrifice.
Slowly, reluctantly, she cupped her hand, pressing up through the dress to her cunt. She had to bite her lip to keep from gasping - even through two layers of cloth, the pressure sent a sharp jolt of arousal through her. The chain between her wrists clanked quietly as she set to work, closing her eyes and trying not to feel Vanessa's eyes on her - or, maybe, trying not to let that be part of the thrill, part of the shivers of ecstasy that were already running up inside her like a pillar of lightning. She did not like this, would not allow herself to like it... but there was no denying that part of her wanted it with a ferocious need that went far beyond liking or not liking. Her bare breasts, pressed together by the way her arms were tied; her skirts rough and coarse against her swollen clit; the light wind against her hot skin; the knowledge that this would not be the last humiliation or the worst - somehow, all those things and more combined into a heady exhilaration, and without thinking, Éowyn changed her movements, rubbing harder and faster, biting down on her lip as her breath caught and her head tipped back. She could feel the heat between her legs, a furnace begging to be fuelled; she knew, with a sick certainty, that if (when) Vanessa raised her skirts, there would be enough liquid there to cling to the coarse hair and trickle down the inside of her thigh.
She had never been more humiliated, more miserable, or more aroused in all her life.