The pitiful attempt to stave off the looming man was a shameful, blatant failure, and warranted a huff from the small woman. Her panic was increasing with each ticking of the clock, and she felt like she was trapped in a room that was slowly filling with water. Her captor did not move quickly, he did not move violently; his touches were deliberate and calculated, likely seasoned from scores of occasions where he would bed women. She didn’t know if he had raped anyone per se, but he certainly was knowledgeable on how to disarm and render a woman helpless. It was a bitter taste on Danielle’s tongue with the nature of how she was tied, for the woman had never been restrained, in bed or not.<br/><br/>It was a very quick and useless grapple when the man reached for her arms. She tried to slap him away, yet only made it that much easier for his burly hands to locate her wrists. He pulled them behind her, situating himself, and leaning close enough that she could feel the hard rod that sat so contently on her ass. She scowled, initiating a spontaneously violent struggle against the restraining hold the man had on her. She cried out in frustration, balling and unballing her fists. “Let me<i>go</i>!” Her voice rang out loudly, laced with a poisonous anger that compelled her to begin plotting his death once he was done using her. She had a dagger in the night stand—perhaps that would be her chance later at night. If she could secure a way to rid of him by the end of the night, then she would be more at peace with her animalistic needs.<br/><br/>She turned her head to keep from suffocating in the dislodged sheets, panting as she strained to see what he was doing. He seemed to be observing for a moment, then dragging her dress upwards and over her back. He was exposing her completely and she was utterly powerless against him. She even attempted a not-so-subtle pull of her leg towards her body, but his weight was twice hers, enough to keep her truly pinned against the pillowy mattress. Beneath her skirt was nothing more than a pair of silken underwear, wedged between the cheeks of her ass and slightly displaced from the small bed battle that was ensuing. “Don’t do it, please.” Her voice had changed to that of a more desperate tone, a far cry from the venom she had spat earlier. “Find yourself a brothel, find a whore. Let me go!”