Éowyn, Book 2: The Key
Chapter 14: Doubt

Copyright© 2018 by Barahir

Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 14: Doubt - Pursued by erotic curiosity into darkness and ruin, defiled in the aftermath of an unfathomable trial, will Éowyn’s uncontrollable desires encage her forever? Is mastering those desires the key to unlocking her future, or is love her true path to freedom? 4th place, 2018 Clitorides, Best BDSM Story.

Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   Coercion   Consensual   Magic   Reluctant   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Fan Fiction   High Fantasy   Sharing   BDSM   Light Bond   Rough   Spanking   Group Sex   Anal Sex   Analingus   Cream Pie   Double Penetration   Exhibitionism   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Sex Toys   Squirting   Voyeurism   Public Sex   Royalty  

25 April 3019 (Third Age), Minas Tirith

“Yes, yes, right there... !”

Éowyn moaned as yet another bone-shaking orgasm — she’d long lost count of how many she’d had — caused her limbs to flail about the bed. Her sheets (and the mattress) were irretrievably soaked through with the liquid aftermath of her arousal, and she despaired of any hope for a comfortably dry rest this evening. The alternative — explaining her sudden need for new bedding to one of the attendants — was out of the question.

But she didn’t stop.


It wasn’t just the ache in her fingers that eventually brought an end to her solitary bacchanal, for she’d been masturbating virtually nonstop since soon after breakfast. She’d wrenched her nipples so often and so hard that they throbbed and chafed; she’d wantonly lapped up so much of the excess fluid dripping from her impaling digits that her throat burned; she’d ground the fingers of her other hand into her ass with such desperation that her wrist was stiff from the strain. Yet for all her exertion her mind and heart were even less tranquil than when she began her frenzied self-pleasuring.

Since she’d opened the fullness of her body to Faramir they’d coupled so often, so forcefully, and at such duration that he claimed he might not survive to conduct his office without at least a brief respite. She was sympathetic — even she was unsure of the stamina available to her in full rut — but she was disappointed as well, for not even a near-constant diet of thrilling sex served to quell her erotic urges when pleasure in the arms of another was abruptly removed from the menu.

Still, she sullenly accepted his plea and returned to her room at the Houses of Healing. It was stark and lonely in comparison to Faramir’s lodgings, not least because he was absent, and with very little delay the attempt to distract herself commenced.

How long did I hold out? Was it perhaps three whole hours after I woke before I started fingering my drenched pussy, my attention already lost to erotic daydreams ere I consciously touched myself? It’s sadly true that I’ve nothing else of consequence to do, at least at the moment, but will anything change when I do? Will I be unable to pass an hour without slipping away for an orgasm or two while others break to take sustenance or do actual work? What am I going to do when Faramir isn’t available to me at a moment’s aroused notice? And what about when our separation lasts for days? Weeks? Even longer?

It was the latter question that most often clouded her mind as she worked herself towards each climax, but the possible answers supplied during her wandering pursuit of pleasure were disturbing and threatening. Faramir often joked about her insatiability, but the issue was worthy of serious contemplation. Are my needs fully exhaustible by any one person, no matter how dutiful? Can I rely on my own hand to fulfill my excess urges? Or will the very worst that I fear come to pass: I will continue to crave sex however and whenever I want, blindly seeking out whoever’s most proximate or available to slake my needs?

Éowyn cringed at how easily her thoughts turned plural, for her fantasies on this day had been anything but monogamous.

She’d resisted at first, but finally surrendered to the inevitable and let her mind drift from her beloved to the myriad encounters of her sexual past ... a history, she kept reminding herself, astonishingly brief despite its dizzying intensity. My very first orgasm from the intimate contact of another was only two months ago. Well, I’ve certainly made up for lost time.

As she neared her initial peak the mental image of Faramir to which she clung slowly morphed into frustratingly inevitable thoughts of Aragorn, the soon-to-be King she despaired of ever expelling from her erotic imagination. Their one actual (no matter how abortive) encounter might have been traumatic enough to forget, given enough time ... though if she’d ever find the strength to forgive herself for it was another matter. But it was the extremely precise and well-remembered detail of their more recent, purely metaphysical union that kept him in the forefront of her fantasies. He beat my tenderest flesh until I came, then I sucked his enormous rod until he filled my mouth ... not just once, but twice in parallel dream-states. In one I was the broken slut forged from my nightmare, and in the other the fragile yet eager supplicant who should have approached him at Dunharrow. Instead I presented myself as a dissolute, scheming whore; an error that led to even more ruin and chaos than I possibly could have imagined. The script played over and over in her mind as fluid flowed from her sex at the memory, and she knew with grim certainty that she’d never be free of desire for him.

And then there was Elfhelm. Poor, earnest, noble Elfhelm ... unexpectedly offered the woman of his dreams at the exact moment she was most unavailable to him or anyone else. She’d whimsically used and cruelly discarded him as a distraction from despair, even though the latter was only increased by her frustrating inability to exhibit more honorable behavior. Yet as she stroked and pinched her swollen clit, she conjured that moment of unexpected passion in which he’d forcefully ravaged her ass, his fury over her emotional distance converted to thrilling sexual athleticism. Well, thrilling for me. If I hadn’t used the secret powder his behavior might have permanently damaged his sense of nobility. Better for both of us that I alone bear that burden, for it was entirely my fault that we came to such a pass.

Her unwise dalliance with Falraven bore no further examination; indeed, she’d already shunted him aside as a forgivable error unworthy of preservation in memory, But Gréor and his damaged weapon throbbed with wizened masculinity as he drove into her once again, though the pleasure was shadowed by recrimination and regret stemming from her first use of the manipulative powder. Soon beautiful young Théo, with his sensitive eyes and his lovely, firm body ... and with whom she’d shared the only moments of lust entwined with true affection that she’d experienced before bedding Faramir ... submitted to her erotic fancy. As did his sister Elfi, her luscious curves and open sexuality introducing Éowyn to a world of pleasure unfettered by convention despite her paralyzing secret. The memory enveloped her in softness, and she whispered to their spirits as she came over and over, their passionate threesome circling from her mind to her loins and back again as previously unexplored possibilities blossomed in her fertile imagination.

 
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