Fight back (success)

Even as your mind clouds with lust, and your body demands attention, a small portion of your mind nags you with your mission to find the medallion. You grasp onto that thought, using it to stave off your desire, clinging to it like a lifeline.

As the man pulls you backwards, you raise your foot, and slam the heel of your boot into the top of his foot, then drive the point of your elbow into his ribcage, just below his armpit. While this would have staggered a lesser man, the combination of his size and the effects of your blazing desire only serve to loosen his grip on you slightly, as he grunts in surprise.

Taking what opportunity you have, you twist and try to squeeze out of his grasp, partially succeeding. His hands fumble again, trying to grab you as you begin to slip from his grasp, before finding purchase again, one hand grabbing one of your arms, the other slipping into the hole in your blouse, reaching around your back.

"Feisty. I li-" His comment is cut short as you take advantage of him drawing you back in, driving your knee towards his groin as hard as you can. The combined **** of the toned muscles in your leg, and his momentum, make this strike much more effective than your last few, and he groans in pain, his grip loosening again as he begins to double over. Seizing the opportunity, you step backwards forcefully, wrenching yourself out of his grasp, accompanied by the faint tearing of material, barely audible over the raucous sounds of lust and sex in the room.

With your libido thundering to the forefront of your mind again, you aim a kick at his head, as he sinks to his knees in front of you. The top of your foot connects with the side of his skull, not forcefully enough to knock him out, but enough to stun him, as the last of the fight leaves you.

With no time to waste, you stagger away from the man, knowing it won't be long before someone finds him or he becomes coherent enough to possibly describe you. Knees shaking with a combination of stress and lust, you stumble towards the stairs, then up them, tripping over several steps as your hands begin to wander of their own accord, drifting towards your dripping sex and aching breasts.

As you ascend the steps, you feel the magical influence of the brothel's main floor leaving your mind, though its' effects are still ravaging your body. Reaching the top of the stairs, you lean against the wall for a moment, releasing a breath that's half-gasp, half-moan, your questing fingers finding your wet slit and teasing your clit. Hanging your head for the briefest of instants, you vaguely notice one of your breasts hanging out the now-massive hole in your blouse, an opportunity your free hand exploits, taking the hardened pebble of your nipple between its' fingers.

Why...why are you here? You need release so badly...need a good, hard cock, or at least something hard, within you...