There were some aspects of demonic heritage that were difficult to shake off no matter virtuous one might be. Aryel was certainly no succubus, indeed she likely would have been offended to be likened to one, but she had taken the occasional roll in the hay before. She was a confident and uninhibited woman, especially with a bit of alcohol in her. And as a wandering mercenary, getting paid often meant a round of good strong drinks at the nearest inn, and oftentimes a handsome lad to keep her company through the cold night. Brief and enthusiastic flings, ending with both parties parting ways breathless, disheveled, and satisfied. Every encounter had been entirely of her own volition, however, and the unlucky man who mistook her small stature for weakness and attempted to coerce his way into her pants was abruptly and painfully proven wrong.<br/><br/>Perhaps that was part of why this was so horrific for her. While it might have been inaccurate to call her truly "dominant" in bed, she was always in control, always able to take the initiative and ensure both her partner and herself enjoyed the act. If there was one thing Aryel was almost pathologically averse to, it was relinquishing control to another. Even if it was something as simple as being held by the horns, immobilizing her head and therefore the rest of her body, or as psychologically-scarring as being raped by a warlord, she couldn't<i>stand</i>it. She detested the very concept of being bound to someone else's will, hated the idea of relinquishing her self-determination. That fierce independence had taken her far in life, but here and now, all it could do was worsen Rysalt's torture.<br/><br/>She herself had barely given it any thought when his strokes had caught her g-spot, but it hadn't missed his notice, and she felt him shift atop her, his thrusts suddenly changing in angle and force. He switched from fucking her without remorse to grinding his hips against hers, guiding his erect cock to press against that oh-so-sensitive area again. After so much pain, it was almost a relief to be treated even slightly gentler. Her eyes were hooded, lips parted and flushed as she tried to catch her breath. It still hurt, but now there was something underneath the hurt, making her toes curl with every flare that passed through her. Too late, she realized that this sudden change was on purpose, and a moan slipped past her lips before she could stifle it.<br/><br/>The shock and indignity of that was enough to prompt her to try and push him off her again, even with his hands clamped about her wrists and pinning them to the floor. Before she could do more than strain against him, however, he suddenly switched tactics again, piston-fucking her into the carpet with regard to her shrieks. He varied between the two, spending a few moments searching for that sweet spot again and dragging out more unwilling whimpers of pleasure, before slamming her back against the ground and threatening to split her asunder.<br/><br/>She had had partners with stamina before, but Rysalt seemed to be in another league entirely. The intensity of his thrusts when he felt like being violent never wavered, and the fact that he hadn't yet unleashed his load into her may have been more appreciated if it didn't mean that it felt as if her agony would never end. She hadn't given any verbal response to his mocking questions, moreso out of an inability to string a complete thought together as he ravaged her. She was enraged, clearly, but was in no position to make something of it.<br/><br/>Even when he let her legs drop to either side of his bucking hips, any opportunity to try and regain some leverage was shut down before she could take advantage of it. The slap across the face was almost nothing compared to the pain his cock was sinking into her, but the abruptness of it and the lingering sting was still enough to leave her stunned long enough for him to get a good grip on her neck. Just as before, the sudden threat of not being able to pull in enough air was enough to make her frantic, but her body's adrenaline had been more or less exhausted for the time being, leaving her without the burst of energy that accompanied panic.<br/><br/>She had felt the sensation welling up whenever he was more passionate than brutal. Though she tried to control herself, it had left her teetering upon the precipice of climax, and the next time he suddenly hilted within her, her scream was high and breathless. Aryel tensed around him as a rush of warmth and moisture in her depths betrayed her, then collapsed back against the carpet fighting for breath under his hands. It wasn't pleasure that had pulled her to orgasm so much as it was pure overwhelming stimulation, and though the upwelling of shame at it was dulled by exhaustion, it still set her heart sinking. So much for not succumbing to his abuse.