Persuasion

The remains of her party lay around her.  She would give anything, anything at all to be able to even crane her neck slightly to look, but she was held.  Not one single muscle would move.  She couldn't even voice the single word that would free her.  Were there other survivors?  She had no doubt Reza had slunk off into the woods, perhaps after freeing up some space in Jaccom's saddlebags.  She trusted her about as far as she could throw her (which, given her academic background, was not likely to be far) so it came as no surprise that she couldn't remember seeing her when everything fell apart.  Well, Reza could do what she liked, and good riddance.  Jaccom was her champion (everyone's, really) when it came to her membership in the group, and he wasn't going to champion anyone ever again.

Jaccom.  Her body struggled to shed tears, but even grief as powerful as the wave that now crested over her was no match for the spelled hold on her.  He'd been cut down trying to shield her, faithful until the end that she would be the one to turn the tide.  He used to say (with a lop-sided grin and a wink), "I'll be the shield if you'll be the sword."  Her wizardry was a source of awe for him, and he'd never understood that offensively, she was no better than any other hazard-class mage.  Worse than some, to be honest.  Her fireballs were of mediocre size at best and she had so little control of lightning magic that she flat out refused to use it for fear of friendly fire.  Her true strength was in breaking magic.  If only she had gotten him to understand.  The memory of him, stabbed and bleeding in dozens of places, slumping against the spears as his seemingly endless strength finally gave out, would haunt her forever.  

How shameful to be caught in this spell.  If she had her wits about her at the time, she could have countered it, but she was distracted by the horror of Jaccom's defeat and the sudden realization that she would die here, at the hands of the goblins that had ambushed her party.  And yet, the vermin had denied her even that, paralyzing her  as she began to cower away from them, and now not only was her position uncomfortable, it was unchangeable, and the angle of her head made it impossible to tell if that bit of crimson just at  edge of her peripheral vision was Tydor's cloak, and if so, if he was still wearing it.  She allowed herself to hope he'd gotten away.  He had not been her friend, as Jaccom had; the demands of his god had ruined his ability to socialize.  She'd respected him quite a deal, though, and even as the little voice inside her whispered that if anyone could fight through this to safety, it would have been him, the rest of her knew he would never have left her behind.

The feel of hands on her body jarred her from her melancholic thoughts.  Revulsion filled her as the unseen goblin behind her groped her, roughly cupping and squeezing her breasts, then sliding his hands down, seeking the cleft between her thighs.  She nearly passed out with the effort to scream.   Her moment of cowardice had saved her from this last violation, though, as the molester found himself unable to get them between her thighs.  After a moment, he gave up with a grant and resumed pawing at her breasts again.  She could feel the evidence of his arousal press against her as he kneaded them.

"...This one will do. Leave the others."

 Her assaulter spoke to the others in breathless goblinoid.  His voice was low and gravelly, and if she could have shivered at his words, she would have. Others, he'd said, so Tydor, too... Guilt filled her as she contemplated his words.  Had they come... for her?  Or perhaps for both Reza and herself.  Whether they had specifically come for the women, or simply found themselves with a magically trussed elf and decided they'd gotten lucky, the full gravity of her situation was now clear. 

She was going to be raped.  By a goblin, of all things.