Aldred exhaled as her kick connected with his steel abdomen, giving him a moment of pause as his advance thudded to a momentary halt. There was surprising force there. Despite the slight crunch of pain it caused, anger could not be further from his heart. By the Lady, he could scarcely believe how hard he got when they tried to hurt him like that. His member strained ever-more-ferociously against his trousers, causing a formidable bulk to loom ahead of him. With his left hand, he seized her kicking leg at the ankle and used it to heave her back across the sheet towards him, dragging the neatly-made linen covers horrendously askew. Once he had her where he wanted her, he applied some weight to it, pinning it to the sheets slightly off to his left. He anchored the errant limb in place with his shin, positioning it diagonally over hers with the orientation of intertwined fingers from the same hand. He repeated this with her other leg, his terrible strength easily overpowering any resistance she could give and using only a modest application of his weight to keep her legs in place and split apart, her posterior jutting into the air. At no stage did he over-stretch her, or mindlessly plant his weight into her, or do anything that might cause discomfort beyond what she manufactured for herself. He raped women because he wanted to fuck them, not because he wanted them to suffer, as paradoxical as such a statement would seem from the perspective of a victim. In all honesty, seeing women happy warmed his heart - but it was a rare thing in these dark days, and the more bestial of his needs prevailed.