"You'll tell me the password... or else"

The threat rises from your throat unbidden. Why did I say that... Or else what?

The gorgon just laughs again. Guards, or worse, could be here soon. I need to act fast.

You walk around to the chained figure, examining the monstrous woman. Her head turns side to side, trying to triangulate your position. The monster has terrible powers and a wicked temperament, but underneath that is a person. And people have needs. You notice her body, tall and muscled. Between the chains, every curve is visible. You don't want to admit it, but her restrained shape is getting you excited. The tightness of the chains... the brutality of the position...

The start of a plan comes to your mind.

You remember the druid, the desperation that comes from deprival. Could you resort to the methods of the enemy?

Now is not the time for moral quandaries.

You've decided on a course of action. You'll get the password, and gain access to the secrets behind that door.

"Tell me the password." you repeat. With one hand you draw your sword, pressing its tip against her exposed neck. With the other, you pull the rope out of her mouth.

"No. What are you going to do, hero, kill me? **** me?" She jeers.

"Yes." You reply confidently.

You retighten the rope around her mouth. You let a few moments pass in silence.

You draw a finger up an exposed section of her thigh. She jerks back against the wall at the sudden touch. Already you see a glisten forming between her legs. A wicked smile sneaks across your face.

"Thoo fink tha wll vrk?" she says, with a hint of apprehension.

"It must be lonely up there..."

"I have to be precise" You think. "Time is not on my side."

You draw the finger on her thigh upwards. You take your other hand, reaching above your hand to caress the underside of her exposed cleavage. A soft moan emanates from underneath the cloak. The gorgon's body reacts strongly to your touch, drawing forward at your beckon, then jerking away as far as the chains will allow, when she manages to regain control.

You continue stroking rhythmically. Her soft skin is a canvas, your fingers the brush. The picture you paint exhilarates you. You trace a single finger down from her sternum. It bumps over each of the cold chains that dig into her skin, striking softly against every exposed layer of skin. You run it down her chest, down across her belly.

The hand continues downwards. You run your hand softly through her dark green bush, feeling each strand. You place gentle pressure between her legs. The other hand you put move to her backside. You pull strongly on her body, arching her taut against the chains. You move your fingers seductively around her clit, your strokes lighter than a feather. You hear a moan, louder than the last; imbued with all the pain and pleasure of her situation.

Keep going, it's working.

You slide your fingers in and out from between her thighs. You drag them across her lips, sneaking deeper and deeper with each motion. The gorgon contorts against your hands and the chains with each motions, trying in vain to get away from the violations.

"Your mine." You remind her. The authority you project astonishes you. Where did that come from?

You plunge a finger deep inside her. She chokes the intruder tightly, attacking it reactively. Her fluids are hot on your finger. They burn your skin slightly-- perhaps a mild venom or acid. It doesn't phase you. You build the velocity of your motions.

'She isn't trying to squirm away anymore,' you note. You release your hold on her lower back. She willingly presses into the bindings, closing the distance between you as much as possible. Your free hand turns its attention to a breast. The other continues sliding deeply in and out of her wet pussy.

You gradually intensify your ****. You place your thumb up against her hood. Your hand moves strategically, across her clit and deep inside her simultaneously.

She lets out gasping cries with each stroke.

Her arms flail impotently against the chains, her hands opening and closing reflexively. Her feet point straight down in ecstasy. Sweat glistens down her chest. Her breathing is heavy beneath the cloak covering her head.

"Tell me the passcode..." you command.

"Mmmmnnnnnnnnn..." The long groan is a yearning cry.

Victory is close.