Thanks to everyone who participated in the Hot Summer Nights Blog Hop. I have taken all your email addresses, given them each a unique number and used the number generator at random.org to pick a winner. I am pleased to announce that Catherine is the lucky winner of the $10 Amazon gift certificate.
The winner of the $100 Gift Card to EdenFantasys is andieleah from Donya Lynne’s blog, and the winner of the Digital Gift Basket is Rae from Lyric James’ blog.
I have also decided to award a bonus prize to Landry, who correctly guessed that Morgana “uses her feminine wiles to escape”. While writing the scene, I recalled advice I had been given many years ago on a European train, from a woman who claimed to be the step-daughter of Xaviera Hollander (of Happy Hooker fame). She claimed that in a dangerous situation that one senses is moving in the direction of rape, the quickest way to ensure one’s escape is to take the upper hand. I won’t vouch one way or the other for the usefulness of that advice, but I did use what it suggested about rape psychology to conclude the scene.
“Now little mouse, I don’t want to hear a peep from you.”
She felt the touch of steel against the swell of her breast. She ceased her struggling, knowing she could not move to avoid a knife she could not see. She nodded meekly, and the man, assured of her cooperation, took his hand from her mouth.
He kissed her. It was a vile, wet, stinking kiss. A fat tongue probed the inside of her mouth artlessly as he squeezed her bare breast and tweaked her nipple roughly.
His idea of foreplay concluded, he spun her round to face the wall and lifted her skirts with one hand. The other held the knife against her throat, as if she might otherwise forget that it was there.
Once her backside was exposed, he groped it eagerly. Once more she heard the rustling of his breeches as he freed his cock, and she felt the hard weight of it fall against her skin. His thick fingers probed in the darkness, seeking out his target.
Morgana was outraged. She was not a prude but she could not countenance being forced at the point of a knife. Not without her explicit consent, at least. She would accept his brutal attention but she would not take it meekly, like a timid maid.
“Lower!” she moaned breathlessly, hoping her pretense of enthusiasm might become actual enthusiasm with a bit of focused effort. “Oh, please, touch me lower!”
The man’s thrusting fingers ceased their searching and she felt the sting of a hard slap on her bare backside.
“I said not a peep from the little mouse.” He spanked her again. “Didn’t I?” One more smack, for good measure.
The sting of each slap traveled to her sex, where she began to feel the faintest twinge of desire. She moaned with exaggerated pleasure. “Oh, yes, you brute!”
The sailor was clearly not pleased by her feigned arousal. He grunted with frustration and clamped his hand over her mouth once more. She felt the head of his softening cock stabbing in the general vicinity of her cunny, which he seemed to be having trouble locating in the darkness.
Oh dear, thought Morgana, perhaps I shall help him.
Reaching behind her, she gripped his cock to guide it home, but there was not much left of his erection. Morgana felt somewhat disappointed. She had heard whiskey sometimes had such a deleterious effect.
The sailor recoiled from her touch, bellowing.
“You witch!” he cried, backing away, back into the moonlight.
She followed him out of the shadows, straightening her clothing, shaken but strangely excited.
Thank you all for participating, and I hope to see you again!