Chapter 6 - Landing On Her Feet: Chapter 6

                                          Landing On Her Feet

                                                 by Volpone

                                                  Chapter Six

          A dark shape moved across the outside wall of the hotel. Though it was almost three
a.m. on a moonless night, the figure moved with an ease born of experience and selfconfidence,
almost as if it were flat on the ground and not seven floors up the side of a
building. The dark-clad figure was unconcerned with the height, but was concerned with the
windows she had to pass to get to the ninth floor window she had targeted.
          As she approached, there was neither light nor sound from within the hotel room. She
cautiously checked in the window, starlight goggles giving her a good view into the darkened
space, only to find it unoccupied. A smile spread across her face. Good. If the room below
was unoccupied, the neighbors wouldn't be calling the manager to report strange sounds.
She wasn't very worried about waking Quinn, but bystanders were another matter. They
could prove much more embarrassing, because, unlike Quinn, they would do more than just
threaten call the police.
          He was almost certainly asleep by now. He had said he was going to behave
normally, and she trusted him to do just that. It would smack of cheating to him to tuck the
statuette under his pillow, or even to stay up reading a book. So she felt that this should be a
walk in the park. Tiara was the only thing she was unsure of. The leopardess' senses were
much more acute than a human's, and she was also much more unpredictable.
          Damn, but she was actually having fun! Would he have something else she might try
to steal tomorrow night, if this continued to be as fun as now? Maybe his ring. She spent just
a second thinking of something erotic and amusing when she woke him after stashing the
statuette safely in her room. She could return to his room still in her "work clothes", and
capture him before he awakened; held helpless by the criminal, who then humiliated him by
using him. Then he would get a chance to see her in uniform, which was what started this
anyway. It could be very fun.
          Reaching the top floor window which was Quinn's bedroom, she carefully checked to
see what awaited her. She was almost disappointed. He was sound asleep, and Tiara was
on the bed with him. He even had one hand draped over her ribs. She could tell from their
breathing they were both out cold, and there were no lights. There was even some soft
music she could just barely make out over the sound of the air conditioner. Perfect.
          The dark figure moved around to the balcony, and silently climbed over the railing.
The balcony door was the work of only a moment, then Catwoman stood in the room. She
glanced through the door into the bedroom only to see Quinn and Tiara in the same position
she had observed at the window. All she had to do was keep from waking the snow leopard,
and she would be free and clear. Moving cautiously across to the statuette's resting place,
she was careful of creaking floorboards, but the music and air conditioning might muffle even
that.
          The figure of Bastet was right where he had left it. Going down on one knee to
examine the table and make sure he hadn't rigged an alarm of some type to it, she tried to
think of what type of trap he might set for her. Her concentration was on electronic devices
when she was caught completely unaware by the human factor.
          Satisfying herself that there were no sensors or detectors, she reached for the figurine
with her right hand. As she did, Quinn's hand grabbed hers by the wrist, and the next thing
she knew, she was doing a somersault, right past the side of the table she had been
examining.
          Damn, how had he managed to sneak up on her like that?! She hadn't heard a thing.
How could he even see her? It was almost completely dark in here, and she had the
advantage of night-vision lenses.
          Her first reaction was to complete the roll and come up into a fighting stance, by he
spoiled that idea when didn't release her wrist. As she tried to continue on through to regain
her feet, the wrist he had grabbed was brought up behind her. She bent to ease some of the
pressure on her shoulder and started to spin, clawed glove reaching instinctively for him,
when her left hand was seized and the glove unexpectedly stripped away in a flash. Lord, but
he was fast! Certainly as fast as she was. Probably stronger, too. No wonder he had been
so confident earlier. She had wanted realism, and he was certainly giving it to her. So much
for her walk in the park!
          As she brought one leg back to try to trip him, he suddenly released one wrist and then
she was falling backward, but without him going first as she had intended. Just before she
landed, taking the impact easily in the manner she had been trained to do, she felt his hand
release her remaining wrist. Bingo! Now, she'd see about evening things up. But when she
tried to regain her feet, her ungloved hand was pulled out from under her before she could
use it for support, and she realized he had managed to loop a length of some fabric around
her bare wrist.
          Her still gloved hand came up to cut away the restraint with its razor claws, but before
she could, he had seized that hand and she was sailing over to land on her back on the
couch, one hand still bound by the cloth. Landing on the heavy piece of furniture with a
muffled thud, he was on her in a flash, and as she attempted to throw herself over the back of
the couch to get it between them, his right hand grasped her shoulder and she felt a jolt run
down her right arm. When she tried to use her right hand to assist her over the couch back, it
didn't respond, and she tumbled over to fall roughly behind the couch.
          Really graceful, she cursed herself. Her right arm was completely unresponsive from
the shoulder down. What had he done? Given her some kind of nerve pinch? Having one
unusable arm threw her off completely. Even broken, she would be able to move it some.
Rolling clumsily away from the couch, she managed to get face down so she might use her
left hand to get to her feet, when her left hand was roughly pulled up behind her, pressure on
it serving to hold her flat on the floor. She tried to fish-flop him off with no luck whatever, and
when she tried to kick at him with her heel, he quickly pinned both the legs by placing his shin
across both calves and weighting them down. She tried one more time to throw him off, and
was rewarded with a sharp, stinging swat to her right buttock. Not vicious, just enough to
send a message.
          "Now, knock that off. Do you want to hurt yourself?" It was the first thing he had said
since she had broken in here. He carefully stripped her glove off her numb right hand.
          Catwoman quickly realized that he could hold her so indefinitely while she wore herself
out with her struggles. Time for a change of tactics.
          "Take it easy, back there. I give up, okay.?" She allowed herself to relax so he could
feel the muscle tension leave and maybe just give her the opportunity she needed. What she
needed now was to bide her time. She could still grab the statuette and escape. All she
needed was a few moments and she could have Bastet and be out over the balcony railing in
a flash. Relax, she told herself. Take your time. Don't panic. Clear thinking was what she
needed. Where was her whip? She'd lost it somewhere in the struggles, and it would be
very useful in swinging to the lower balcony if she could find it.
          In the mean time, Quinn had bound her right hand as well. Her left hand seemed
unaffected by whatever he had done, and if she could get a hold on him by some vulnerable
portion, she still might be able to force him to let her go. Damn, if only he'd overlooked her
gloves, she could be out of whatever was binding her the second he relaxed. A distraction
was what she needed. But she hadn't planned on needing one. Damn! Highly
unprofessional, underestimating your target like that. It would teach her a lesson. Still she
knew she was far from beaten.
          When he had her securely trussed, he rolled her over on her back again, knelt down,
picked her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. She knew if she struggled, she
could make him drop her, but with one numb arm and both wrists bound, she'd hit the floor
like a sack of potatoes.
          She decided to keep playing the game. "So, what happens now? You turn me over to
the Federales?"
          As he approached the bed he said, "Tiara, down." Then, as the big cat left the bed
and padded for the other room, "Don't be so hasty to go to prison." He deposited her on the
unmade bed, and reached for her cowl. "How do you get rid of the starlight lenses... ah,
there we go."
          Once the lenses were out of the way, he clicked the light by the bed to its lowest
setting and looked down at her. He whistled appreciatively. "Definitely not your garden
variety burglar."
          His gaze glided slowly down her supine form, drinking in the sight of her. Her outfit
fitted like a layer of purple body paint, covering everything, and as he said, concealing
nothing. Her large breasts rose and fell with her respiration, and he was pleased to see her
nipples were already tightened in excitement. He completed his tour of inspection.
          "Very nice, indeed. You have to be the sexiest burglar I've ever seen."
          She took the opportunity to look at him as well, and she saw he had thrown on a teal
green silk robe, but its tie was missing, undoubtedly what bound her hands behind her. The
contours of his bare chest and stomach showed in sharp relief in the angling light from the
one lamp, and his semi-erect cock pointed suggestively towards her. Maybe being his
prisoner had its compensations. Her adrenaline was up, and she was ready for action of
another kind. She was tempted to just surrender, but that wasn't in character. And dammit,
she was not going to lose like this!
          As she lay there, her useful hand began to worry at the knot binding her right. It wasn't
particularly well tied, and it came away quickly. He moved toward her again, and she
whipped her left hand out from behind her, silk robe tie still attached to her wrist, reaching for
the lapel of his robe to throw him across the bed.
          But he must have anticipated her move as he caught her wrist, hauling her up roughly
until her wrist was at the ornate brass headboard. When she realized he was binding her
there, she brought her legs up to catch him in a scissor-lock.
          "No, you don't," she said.
          Crossing her ankles over his shoulder, his head and left shoulder sticking through, she
tried to get enough leverage to throw him, without success. Damned useless arm! It gave
her no leverage whatever. She couldn't get enough support for a throw, so she squeezed
him.
          As she increased the pressure, his right hand reached out and pinched her nipple...
hard. As she gasped and twisted to avoid his fingers, his left hand found the nerve running
down her right leg and pressed. Suddenly her leg went as dead as her arm, and she lost her
scissor-hold. With both her right limbs limp, she had no balance, no coordination, little
strength... in short, she was virtually helpless.
          "Naughty, naughty." He grasped her left ankle and pulled it toward the foot of the bed.
She tried to resist, and managed to pull her leg back until it was bent almost double. He put
some pressure to one side, and as she countered by twisting toward her left, his right palm
gave her exposed rear cheek a resounding smack. Her mouth flew open and she gasped
with surprise and outrage, and he pulled her ankle back to the footboard. Before she could
think to continue her struggles, he had her ankle bound securely to the corner of the bed.
With her arms outstretched as she was, her ankles fell short of the foot of the bed, but he
simply bridged the gap with whatever he was using to bind her there.
          The woman in the cat costume thrashed ineffectually for a moment while he stood and
caught his breath. He informed her, "You are definitely a handful." As he drew one finger
slowly down her right breast to the prominent nipple, then cupped her breast and gave it a
firm but gentle squeeze, he corrected himself. "Actually, considerably more than a handful."
          She tried to sound vicious, but found it difficult. He was right... she was excited. Hell,
she was plain old horny! She was about to soak the crotch of her suit any second. If it
weren't for her stubbornness, she wouldn't be trying to escape. She'd be jumping his
delectable body and giving him the ride of his life! But he was not going to win this easily.
Not if she could help it.
          He strolled to the opposite side of the bed and took a pocket knife from the side table.
As he opened it, she had a brief flash of fear that things might be getting too extreme for her,
but he reached up and easily cut the long trailing end from the sash of his robe that bound
her hand to the headboard. Then, he casually tied the wrist of her limp arm to the headboard
as well, trimmed the excess tail, and then casually strolled to the bath. What the hell was he
doing, now? As he left the room, she tried to pull herself up enough to perhaps reach the
knot binding her left hand with her teeth, but she shouldn't have bothered. She was trapped,
and growled in frustration.
          Quinn returned from the bath carrying what must have been the tie to another robe,
and he then calmly bound her numb ankle toward the foot of the bed so that she found
herself in a highly undignified spread-eagle position. God, but it was humiliating!
          He knelt on the bed by her side. "Let's get you back to normal." His fingers probed
gently but firmly by her right hip joint, and a jolt shot down her leg as sensation flooded back,
accompanied by the familiar tingling feeling which came after a limb had been asleep. He
spoke as he performed a similar treatment on her shoulder. "I have to admit, I'd never
considered what I'd do if I caught a burglar like you. I always figured tie 'em up and call the
cops. Then again, I never even imagined they might look this hot. In your case, I might
consider letting you go... after a while." He reached into the top of her boot and ran his
fingernails up the inside of her thigh to the mound of her sex, and an involuntary shudder ran
through her.
          She thought to herself, He'll have to untie me to get me out of the suit, and if I'm
careful, I can be out of here in a matter of seconds. All I'll need is the opportunity. In the
meantime, its time to relax, and enjoy the inevitable.
          Then he made her plans all the more difficult. Taking the end portion of the robe tie, he
bound it across her eyes as a blindfold, the green silk effectively blocking her vision.
          "There. Now you're completely at my mercy, to do with as I will. And you will do as I
say, or you can find if what they say about Mexican prison guards is true. Let's face it... if I
turn you over to the cops, dressed like that, you wouldn't have a prayer of getting off. On the
other hand, if your cooperate, I can guarantee you a very, very good chance of getting off."
All the while he was speaking, he had been running his fingernails down the underside
of her arms and down her ribs, down her hips, until the top of her boots blocked his
downward progress, then returning back up the inside of her thighs, until his nails trailed
across the fabric which was stretched taut across the lips of her vagina as he spoke the
words "good chance of getting off".
          Involuntarily, goose bumps raced across her skin and a shudder shook her frame, her
nipples tightening almost painfully, her juices flowing freely. She tensed against her bonds as
if struggling to free herself, but her breath came in excited pants.
          The entire sensation was amazingly erotic to her. Her inner conflict merely served to
heighten her excitement. She couldn't just surrender without a struggle, but she was honest
enough to admit that he had her as sexually ready as she'd ever been in her life, his scenario
tapping into some strong, suppressed fantasy. But if this hadn't been Quinn, she wouldn't
just passively lie here. She had to try, and within a matter of moments, he gave her an
opportunity.
          When she pulled at the restraint binding her right wrist, it shifted fractionally, but didn't
loosen. However, he paused to check it to be safe. As he probed the tie, she blindly grasped
the thumb of his left hand and bent it back, keeping a hard grip.
          "Now, do you want to untie me, or shall I break this?" They both knew she wouldn't,
but he had to play as if she would.
          Very slowly, and with careful enunciation, he told her, "That... hurts. Let... go."
          Copying his delivery, she said, "Un...tie." She put on slightly more pressure, hoping
that before she did him permanent damage he would say "Enough."
          Instead, he shifted his position to roll his wrist, and her bonds prevented her from
being able to maintain the pressure.
          "Then just remember the magic word." Unable to reach her backside, he gave her a
stinging slap across the point of her right breast, to which the fabric of her suit offered absolutely no
protection. She twisted away ineffectually, but didn't release her hold, and he again ordered
her to "Let go." The order was accompanied by another slap across her breast, again catching just 
the last bit and stinging her nipple. This time she released him. For her, the rough treatment 
served to reinforce the illusion, and it had actually surprised her much more than hurt, 
since she couldn't see it coming.
          However, Quinn was upset that she'd pushed him into rougher behavior than he really
wanted to get into, but she had been warned. He knew women who enjoyed being spanked,
but dammit, he still didn't like hitting a woman, regardless of the circumstances.
          "You do something like that, you get punished. You do something bad enough, the
cops get you. Comprende?" She pointedly failed to respond. He reached out and tweaked
the nipple of her left breast, not hard enough for real pain. "Do you understand?" She
squirmed to escape.
          "Yes, dammit!"
          He released her, and gently massaged her "abused" mammary.
          "There. That didn't kill you, did it?" He then leaned over and, through the fabric,
kissed the nipple he had treated roughly moments before. It strained against the stretchy
fabric, as if determined to burst free of its restraint.
          He spent the next few minutes running his nails over her skin through the fabric of her
suit, exciting her with the sensuousness of it all. The he paused briefly and said, "Now, let's
get you out of that." She realized that if he was going to release her even briefly, it would be
now. She awaited the feeling of being untied, but instead, when he took her by the wrist, she
felt the touch of his knife blade as he carefully slid the knife from wrist to shoulder, the razorsharp
blade parting the fabric easily.
          He was going to cut her out of her suit! Damn! She realized that was her last likely
chance at escape. She was also out the cost of a suit.
          But as he trailed the back of the knife point across her still encased breast, her breath
caught as it crossed her nipple, and she began to grow impatient. After cutting away each
sleeve, he began at the throat and slit her suit straight down, between her marvelous breasts
and down across her stomach. He trailed one finger down the opening he had just created,
then ran his hand inside the fabric at her stomach and up to her breast, where he softly ran
his hand over the surface, and she moaned as his fingers closed around the yielding orb.
After a few moments of this, he went back to peeling her like an oversized grape. When he
finished, he was able to grasp the discarded fabric and pull it from under her like a shed skin,
and she lay there naked except for her cowl and boots.
          He gazed down on his helpless captive and said, "And to think, I almost turned you
over to the Federales. Now that would be a crime." And he again trailed his hands down her
exquisite form. "You are much too good to be wasted."
          He then proceeded to kiss and fondle, lick and nuzzle his way around her form,
spending time on each of her wondrous breasts, concentrating his attention on her perfect
deep rose nipples, until he had wound his way down to her neatly waxed strip of sparse, dark
pubic hair. She was aching for a touch of him, but was highly disappointed when he skipped
his supposed target and began on her legs just at the boot tops.
          His leisurely progress up her legs was every bit as sensuous as what had passed
before, slowly... teasingly... working his way again up to her anxious pussy. This time, he
didn't pass the lips that she wanted him to kiss. She tilted her pelvis with a slight whimper,
and he rewarded her by bestowing a gentle kiss. She sighed and rocked her hips to
encourage him, and his tongue slid softly along her labia, sending tiny flashes of lightning
through her.
          He performed tenderly, lovingly, patiently, but when she tried to urge herself over the
edge into climax, he would back away until her rising orgasm had again subsided, only to
return with more enthusiasm the next time. His lips and tongue explored and brought
continuous shudders of pleasure from her, but never quite enough to send her into climax.
He teased her to the brink of orgasm that way several more times until she was panting and
whimpering in frustration.
          She was straining against her bonds in an attempt to will her unsatisfied body to come,
when he moved away from her overly-eager pussy, and he knelt with one knee on each side
of her ribs. Because of the blindfold, she couldn't tell what he intended, but she felt him lean
over to pick up something. As he did, his erect cock rubbed across the nipple of one breast,
and she tried to rub herself against him again. Then she felt something cool and wet drizzle
across her breasts, and a smell of cinnamon reached her nostrils.
          He was rubbing whatever the liquid was over her breasts, and she realized from its
feel that it must be some type of massage oil. He worked and kneaded her breasts, slippery
fingers sliding up and pulling at her nipples until they popped from between his fingers like a
greased watermelon seeds, making her gasp, her breathing more ragged by the minute.
          Then he placed one hand on each of her slick breasts and pressed them towards one
another, squeezing them together, and then she felt him put his erection between them. The
next thing she knew, he was sliding himself between her large breasts in a coital motion,
squeezing them, tweaking their stiff pink buds, firing her desire as he made love to her
magnificent globes. The sensation was more erotic, more salacious than any she could
remember, all the more so for her being unable to see it. The slippery sensuousness of his
penis as it slid between her already sensitive tits was amazing.
          After just a few minutes of this, she couldn't take any more. "Please...", she begged
him.
          He stopped. "What was that? Do you want something?" He took his cock in one
hand and ran its head over her nipple.
          Again, all she could say was, "Please...", and she rocked her pelvis against nothing.
          "Is this what you want?", and he leaned forward and passed the tip of his penis across
her lips, and she jerked her head aside, the scent of cinnamon strong in her nostrils. "Would
you like this? Huh?" He ran it down her cheek, and she licked her lips, fighting with herself
internally. It wasn't that she had never done it in the past, and gods, but she wanted him! He
teased it across her lips again and again, tempting her with it, and she stopped moving away.
          "All you have to do is take it. It's right here."
          Then her hesitation was over and she opened her lips, licking the tip of her tongue
ever so gently against the oily underside of his erection. She tried to repeat the action, but he
teased her with it. Then he let her tongue just graze it again, and she panted out her wish.
"Please..."
          "Then take it." His hand slid behind her head, twining into her hair and lifting her into a
better position. All of her inhibitions evaporated in the heat of her excitement, and she parted
her moist lips to take his hard cock into her mouth. She moaned expressively, sensually, and
he replied in kind as she slowly bobbed her head, reminding what it felt like to suck a man
again, sheathing his manhood again and again with her sensuous lips. He tasted of both
cinnamon and the slightly musky taste of clean man. She swallowed around him but refused
to let him out of her willing mouth.
          She was operating completely by feel, and at this moment, her world centered around
taking this exciting man any way she could. He challenged her, pumping himself forward into
her lips, and she did her best to take all of him.
          It took her several minutes, but after trying several times, her body recalled how to let
him passed the constriction at the back of her mouth, controlling her gag reflex, and she
almost came when the crown of his cock rubbed against the back of her throat as he bent
and slipped downward. Her sense of accomplishment was as great as her most spectacular
theft. She was quick to remember, and she recalled how to breathe out of time with his
motions. She felt exhilarated, sucking his cock, reveling in the sexual freedom of what she
was doing.
          She tried various things as soon as she could recall them, and filed what things
brought his strongest reactions... swirling her tongue around the crown, tossing her head,
always careful to keep her teeth well out of the way, moaning her excitement around his
erection, running her tongue up the underside to the glans, then burying him deep into her
throat. She was passionate... she was enthusiastic... she was magnificent.
          She felt his orgasm building, and she began to work him into her mouth with even
greater passion. She was on the verge of climax herself, more excited than she could ever
recall.
          Then, suddenly, without warning, he grasped her more firmly by the hair and pulled
himself out of her mouth with an audible pop. Selina cried and moaned out her
disappointment. She knew it must be there, just out of reach of her lips, and she wanted him
back in her mouth.
          He teased her again. "Oh, so you want this, eh?" He just allowed the tip to graze her
panting lips.
          She tried to recapture him in her mouth, but missed.
          "Come on... what do you want?"
          She could barely find her voice. "Please... I want you."
          "Good. Now you can have what you want."
          And with that, he pulled her head forward and pushed his cock between her sensuous
lips.
          She moaned out in ecstasy as he buried himself in her mouth, and she swallowed
around him, took a deep breath, then forced her mouth down the shaft as far as she could,
feeling the crown of his prick slide against the back of her throat. She held him there for as
long as she could, pulled back just enough to catch her breath, then bobbed her head, caving
in her cheeks around him, putting all her desire into that one act, her desire for him to spend
himself in her mouth.
          Then he moaned out, she felt his cock swell a fraction more, and she stole another
deep breath in anticipation. He told her, "Take it now!", and began what turned into a truly
world-class orgasm.
          As his first contraction took him, she opened her throat wide and fucked him with her
mouth, matching each spasm of his climax with another deep bob of her head, sucking him
off as he pumped his semen down her throat, and her own orgasm soared to match his own.
She kept swallowing him deeply, taking him again and again and again as his crown slid
against her throat, and she convulsed in orgasm each time, each spasm building on the one
before. She tried to cry out around her mouthful of hard cock, and her own shudders
outlasted his own by over a minute.
          She pulled back, finally allowing him to withdraw, her sense of accomplishment
immense. She'd done it! She'd made him lose control, even though she was at his mercy.
          Selina assumed that the game was probably over now, and that he would untie her.
          She was mistaken.
          His voice was slightly ragged, but still sensual and suggestive when he spoke. "That
was very good. Now you get your second reward."
          With that, he shifted himself around one-hundred eighty degrees, and pressed his
cock between her breasts again but facing her feet, using his legs to squeeze her incredible
tits together around him. He leaned well forward and proceeded to place a gentle kiss on the
lips of her very wet vagina, and she moaned deeply in appreciation.
          He began to nip and lick at her pussy, flicking his tongue across her erect clit, making
her squirm and whimper with desire. His skillful tonguing and sucking rapidly brought her
back to the edge of orgasm. Occasionally she was aware of the feel of his testicles grazing
her chin as he pumped his swelling cock between her compressed breasts.
          Again, just as she was approaching climax, he stopped and shifted position, moving
around until he was kneeling between her outstretched legs. He fingered her sopping pussy
just enough to keep her close to orgasm.
          "What's the magic word?"
          She humped her hips forward and whimpered, "Please..."
          He slid forward, hooked his arms under her lower buttocks so that his hands could
come up around her sides to squeeze her breasts, and buried his face into her vagina.
          Her reaction was almost instant. As his tongue found her clit and flicked across it,
once... twice... three times... then she flashed into climax, crying out loudly, urging him on as
she came. His lips continued their nibbling and sucking as she convulsed again and again,
soaking his face.
          "Oh, god!" she exclaimed as she thrashed with another massive wave that poured
through her beautiful body. He kept her in the throws of orgasm like that for several minutes,
creating a building spiral of climaxes, so that just when she felt she was done, he would again
tongue her over the edge into another. Neither was able to keep track of the times she
climaxed.
          Finally, just as she felt she couldn't soar any higher, his fingers found her rock hard
nipples and, just as she was about to flash again, clamped down.
          The muscles of her body tensed, she arched her back, and then Selina cried out
wordlessly as she went into an incredible orgasm, possibly the greatest she had ever known.
          He held her there, in the midst of this uncontrollable series of climaxes, convulsing and
thrashing in ecstasy, until she could no longer stand it.
          She was hyperventilating, on the verge of unconsciousness, when her mind managed
to dredge up the one word to make him stop.
          "Enough."
          Immediately, all activity ceased. He crawled up, wrapped his arms around her, and
held her close until she could regain her breath. Occasionally, she would repeat the word
"enough", as though in surrender, which in a sense it was.
