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This can’t be happening.
No matter how many times Hilda thinks it, it doesn’t change the situation at hand. The accessory she had dropped moments before is firmly in her grasp, but the victory is a hollow one considering the snug hole of concrete she had to lean into to get it. It was barely waist-height off the ground; it looked easy enough to slip through for the sake of grabbing the accessory that had skittered away from her—at the time, at least, it sure beat going all the way around and finding the entrance to the decrepit, abandoned place. Now, she’s not so sure. No matter how she twists and turns or pushes or pulls, there’s no give in her position. If anything, she’s sure to have scrapes and bruises circling her waist from how she tries despite the bleak reality of the situation; she can already feel the soreness blossom over her delicate skin, and it summons small tears of frustration to the corners of her eyes.
She’s stuck. Embarrassingly, unfathomably stuck.
No one else is around—she’d waited just in case anyone would show up and give her the chance to have them retrieve the trinket for her instead, but Hilda’s luck is particularly bad this day, it seems. Was it so wrong of her to want to take a nice, relaxing break from everything and craft jewelry without being harassed by the professor or Claude or anyone else about coming to tiresome battle meetings. Apparently the goddess must think so, if this is the kind of karma that seemed fitting for her simple wishes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Hilda whines, flopping over in momentary defeat. How is she supposed to get herself out of this?
She doesn’t hear footsteps. The sudden, low chuckle that rumbles from behind the wall startles her into jolting in place, a short cry of surprise chirping from her lips. Was someone there—laughing at her? Oh, she could only imagine how it must look from that end, with her rear exposed and bent over and heels hardly flat on the ground. She can feel her face heat up at the very idea!
Aah, embarrassment be damned, though! The moment the shock wears off, relief takes its place and Hilda allows herself a sigh. Once she’s out of this mess, she’ll put on her best performance to date for the sake of keeping those lips sealed.
“You’re a lifesaver! I thought no one would ever show up!” Hilda whines, her lips drawn into a pout as she tries her best to seem at least somewhat in control. Playing damsel in distress is the easiest thing in the world for someone like her; people fall for it all the time, and she’s certain this time will be no different. The only ones to ever brush her off were her own dear classmates, after all, and that deep voice sounded nothing like any of them. “Could you please lend me a hand? I’d be so thankful—of course, I’ll give you a nice reward, too!”
Silence. The lack of response to her plea makes her heart pound, hope and anticipation warring within her chest. Why isn’t he saying anything? That was one of her best acts—she even pulled for the waterworks and made her voice shake! There’s no way anyone could just ignore a genuine cry for help like that! Had she imagined that laugh? Is she talking to air? A thousand questions rush through her mind, but she forces a nervous laugh, her brows pulled together in worry.
“H-Hello...? You’re still there... right?”
With a slab of concrete between them, it’s easy to miss, but she picks up on the sound of shuffling. So he is still here, then? Maybe the guy’s just not much of a talker? Anxiety flutters with each beat of her pulse; somehow, she can’t help but feel uneasy.
It’s that unsettling atmosphere that draws a shriek from her throat when there’s suddenly a touch to the back of her thigh, without warning or pretense. Her heart races and she squirms the best she can before giving another forced laugh. Stay calm, Hilda! You don’t want to push away your only chance!
“Sorry, sorry! You startled me a little, there!” Even though her voice sounds as though it’s faltering, she keeps herself going, forcing a smile that he can’t see but can hopefully hear. “You’re going to help, right? I’m so, so thankful! I can even—”
A rough voice cuts her off, “So noisy! Weren’t you just talkin’ about rewardin’ me?” and that same touch rises to her ass, squeezing hard. The blood in Hilda’s veins runs cold. Everything around her freezes as that frantic beat in her chest rushes to her ears like a sound of alarm.
You... You can’t be serious... !
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Her shout holds nothing back, volume and anger alike. Bracing herself the best she can in her position, she curls a knee forward only to kick out sharply, driving her heel into what she hopes is flesh. As a cry of pain greets her ears, satisfaction twists her expression into a justified smirk. Take that! You’re not just messing with anyone, you filthy lech!
The burst of adrenaline redoubles her efforts: it feels little more than thrashing, but she channels all the reserve energy she can muster into breaking free. She kicks, the curve of her hips knocking against the edges of the hole. The slight sparks of pain are trivial compared to the fate that looms over her; she all but leaps forward the best that she can, trying for all the world to throw herself to freedom.
“Cheeky bitch... !”
A harsh grip snatches her leg, yanking her backwards and stealing her breath. Even still she squirms relentlessly, shouting at the top of her lungs.
“Hey! Someone—Anybody! Help!”
It feels pointless—devastating, even, as nothing but the chirp of birds answers her cries. All the while, the disgusting hold on her legs grows tighter, all but pinning her thighs against the wall as he forces her still.
“Quit movin’! We haven’t even gotten started yet!”
It’s no use; even as she kicks and thrashes, the man’s hold is too strong, and she can feel how he’s hardly even trying! But if she just gave up, where would that lead her?
Something hot and firm pushes against her panties, lined right up with her entrance, and Hilda realizes the answer to her own thought. A firm grip squeezes the soft flesh of her cheeks, spreading them apart and leaving her feeling exposed despite having all her clothes still on. Her head’s spinning, caught up in a million kinds of thoughts. This is happening. This is really happening, and it’s not some sort of strange prank. Some stranger’s cock is rubbing right up against her pussy, prodding through her underwear, black lace trim shifting against her skin each time he rocks forward and just barely pushes pink cloth into her hole. It feels strange, twisted—it’s almost like he’s fucking her, and yet not quite with the slim barrier of her panties kept between them. A part of her feels grateful for that, keeping what seems like the inevitable at bay, but a dizzying thought taints her mind in spite of herself as she scrambles to think of a way out of this.
Oh... Oh, that feels kinda good...
“C-Cut it out! As soon as I get out of this, you’ll really... !” Her protests mean nothing. If anything, it only seems to spur him on more as the tip of his cock nudges between her slit over and over, stimulating yet disasstifying. Wait, I’m not supposed to be satisfied by this! It’s a struggle to keep reminding herself this position, though. With little distraction, it’s hard to keep her mind off the feel of him, how he does just enough to keep pulling her thoughts back towards it like a special type of torture.
“Heh, look at you, gettin’ all wet just from this. Should’a known you were a real slut, dressin’ like that and stickin’ this fine ass out. Just beggin’ to be fucked, weren’t ya?”
As if! “Who would want s-something like this?! You’re just some lowlife creep, doing what you want—!”
A sharp yet somehow light-handed strike meets the curve of her ass. Her flesh stings; it’s far from the worst pain she’s felt, nothing in comparison to even a heavy hit from a training lance, and yet it makes her eyes water. For the few moments she forgets to breathe, the man thrusts against her with more intent.
“Oh?” There’s amusement in his voice that makes her stomach churn. “Like that, did ya?”
“There’s no way that I would...” Her voice fails her, the words on her tongue coming out as whimpers instead. He laughs at her in earnest, and stops moving.
Are you done? She thinks in a daze, trying to string together some bargain that could sway him to work with her instead of this. Maybe, just maybe, she still has a shot. Please, just be done.
Of course he isn’t; she laments her dashed hopes with a scandalized cry as he yanks down her panties, truly exposing her. The air against her pussy makes her shudder, a feeling that runs up the length of her spine. Panic surges along with it, dashing all the makings of plans in her mind and forcing her into desperation.
“Wait! Wait a minute! If you stop this and help me out, I can give you anything you want! I’m the younger sister of Duke Goneril, you know! My brother will pay anything for my sake! If you stop this now and help me instead, you’ll be set for life! I’ll be in your debt, and we’ll never speak of—!”
“You really never shut the hell up, do ya?” He says, voice full of gravel as he ignores her desperate pleas and rubs the head of his cock between her folds. She has to bite her lip to keep her voice down as the unwanted sensation sends heat coursing through her body. The tip moves up and down, spreading her slick around like some kind of lube. It all but forces arousal through her veins, even as she fights against it so strongly. “If you got somethin’ to say, it better be you beggin’ for this meat.”
He smacks his cock against her once, twice—where she expects a third (and curses the way the anticipation feels like excitement), he holds her hip tight with one hand and spreads her open with his fingers using the other. Heat skitters all over her skin at the touch; rough though it is, her traitorous body can’t help but think it pleasurable. She slaps a gloved hand over her mouth in a redoubled effort to not make a single damning sound as he explores her, slipping one finger inside, and then another.
This is bad—this is really bad! Her breath picks up as the man so casually toys with her body, curling and thrusting and scissoring his fingers and bumping against a spot that makes her shiver down to her toes. Not there! “S-Stop it... !” If he keeps this up... n-no! No, I can’t—I can’t let him make me cum!
She twists and turns, trying to draw her hips away as best she can, and yet each time she does, his fingers hook inside her, assaulting her sensitive points while dragging her back towards him. His pace picks up and that unwanted pressure builds in the pit of her stomach, coiling tight as if preparing to pounce. Pink strands fall out of place as Hilda shakes her head frantically, banging a fist against the wall and weakly trying to kick away.
No, no—I don’t want to! I don’t... I don’t want to...! Stop... !
It’s not earth shattering. It doesn’t push her into a river and leave her floating underwater like some of the ones she’s had before. No, it’s something precious held close to her chest, a sensation that runs like static through her limbs, biding its time and waiting until finally wresting that snap of pleasure from her grasp and leaving her body shuddering, hips jerking against a calloused hand. Her teeth bite into the inside of her cheek as her climax rolls through her in waves; his fingers keep moving, dragging her through to its end, until she’s forced to uncover her mouth just to breathe through the fire in her lungs.
“That easy, huh?” He chuckles and moves away, leaving her (gratefully) empty for a few moments—she doesn’t need his hum of approval to know how disgustingly satisfied he must be. She trembles, still, cursing her body for every sensitive nerve it dared to possess at a time like this, hating it for siphoning even that small bit of energy from her in her time of need—to struggle and snap all that time only to fall prey to such an unrefined technique! A part of her nearly wants to laugh.
What she hates even more than that, though, more than words could describe, is how she recognizes that throbbing ache as a plea for more. A climax so unsatisfying that against her every wish, her body craves the kind of release that she’s used to. How many levels of cruel could the world be to her in one day?
Almost eagerly, the man lines himself up and thrusts inside her in one harsh, snapping motion. Her voice catches in her throat, her jaw falling slack and her eyes growing wide. She can feel the throbbing sensation of his cock buried within her, hot and hard and surprisingly thick—her mind grows blank as her walls twitch around its girth, her pulse centered low in her loins.
Something... something like this...
“Hng, so fuckin’ tight, but y’ain’t even a virgin? Must be my lucky day, findin’ a slut like you in a place like this!”
Her head’s spinning. Humiliating words bounce in the spaces where thoughts can’t form as though sinking in to make themselves at home, uncaring of her disgust. Each shift he makes to press in deeper runs like Thoron through her muscles, leaving her numb yet wanting as sheaths himself in full. Her untouched clit throbs as if begging, and Hilda finds herself inhaling shakily as she adjusts to the intrusion that sets her aflame with a hunger that she wishes she could more easily ignore. But the sheer ease of which he’d entered says enough; despite everything, she’s soaked, and it shows in how he slides out, then in again with little resistance.
There’s an urgency on her tongue that’s on the verge of snapping, if only to get him to stop this nonsensical tease. It dies before it’s voiced, coming instead as a sharp gasp as his manner shifts into something more befitting of the animal he is.
The pace he sets is brutal. Fingers stamp bruises into her hips as he holds her against each rough snap; it’s all she can do to try and steady herself, hands splayed against the wall for support as he jostles her entire body. Such a thoughtless assault is too much—especially at the start!—and yet for all that she wishes she could bring herself to petition him to at least slow down (though it’s sure to be to no avail), the sooner it all comes to an end, the better. Like a mantra, she solidifies the thought in her mind.
The sooner he’s done, the better. You can get through this, Hilda! A guy like him definitely won’t last long! His cock isn’t even... it isn’t even...
Saliva gathers in her mouth as he grinds and fucks into her like she’s little more than a pleasurable convenience, the sound of his flesh meeting hers loud and rhythmic—her ears feel helplessly tuned to it. Even though she hates it, she’s left panting, heat simmering low in her belly with each motion; he might be savage but his pattern is steady, creating something easy for her senses to latch onto as he pushes her back towards that peak as though she had never fallen off it. Gloved fingers curl against her palms, protecting her from the threat of her own nails digging in. Closer, closer—his wild thrusts and unforgiving grip drive any sense of rational thought from her mind as her second orgasm hovers right before her, promising something far better than the last, like some forbidden piece of candy that she hardly had to work for. A reward of sorts, for for putting up with everything until this point. Yes, this is her reward; moans drip from the back of her throat at the thought, unfiltered, as she forgets her pride in the face of pleasure.
She cums, loudly, her toes curling in her boots. Her legs lock up and her eyes roll back as a ringing sound deafens her ears. Distantly, she can hear him swear, “Agh, you’re grippin’ me so fuckin’ tight!” as he continues to pound her with wild abandon.
“Shit!” He growls, snapping his hips harshly once, twice, and then stilling. Hilda moans at the feel of him throbbing within her sensitive walls. Only when he slowly begins pulling out does she realize the meaning of the fluid that slowly seeps from her hole. Her head feels too melted to find the words to complain just yet.
Even if she did, it would surely be drowned out by the man’s sudden shouting.
“Over here! Found somethin’ real nice for ya, boys!”
Hilda’s heart stops, her eyes wide in disbelief. There’s more?! Weakly, while the man’s distracted, she tries to pull herself from the wall. With her legs feeling like jelly, she doesn’t get far at all.
A long, appreciative whistle reaches her ears. With an idea of what’s to come, Hilda whines.