tolkienhorror

[tolkienhorror]

Warnings: incest

Please note: This was created on an anon tumblr prompt on my main blog. Prompt: Elladan/Elrohir/Legolas - Slave training

Note: This is kind of a follow up to this story, albeit taking place in an a/b/o version of it.

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"I don't know what you expected."

The sigh in Elladan's raspy voice could almost be mistaken for a sympathy if it hadn't been for the annoyed gleam in his eyes. Or for the fact that Legolas' husband was busy tying him up into a neat bundle, ready to be used. He went about methodically and unhurried, pushing Legolas to sit back against the bed's headend before cautiously forcing his trembling legs into a neat split and binding his wrists to his ankles with the help of cuff and rope so that every attempt of struggling would only end with him hurting himself. Just to drive the point home, those ropes connecting his joints were then wrapped around the massive carved stars and leafs adorning the bedframe, leaving his limbs suspended tightly.

 With all of his weight therefore resting on his behind which was already bruised by a couple of harsh slaps, his erect cock and slick-wet hole, both conspicuously reddened, were now obscenely exposed to every of his lovers' whims. Yet Legolas didn't have it in him to protest. It was hard to think about anything right now but the heat pulsating in his veins and in his groin, or the deep emptiness inside of him that screamed for anything to fill him up, right now. Anything that would give at least some satisfaction, unlike those lifeless toys he'd try to pass the time with waiting for his lovers' arrival all day, ever since his body had decided it had been waiting long enough for this. Which, admittedly, was entirely his fault.

 "If you just listened to us every once in a while ..."

 While Elladan was not finished ranting, his twin was being a little quieter, working effectively and quickly as usual, mixing up a neutral smelling, soft healing paste that he started to coat Legolas' oversensitive genitals with. Even that sober touch drew needy moans from his lips, but his husband ignored his useless attempts of thrusting into his gently moving hand or getting him to use more than one long, dainty finger to rub that salve into Legolas' heated channel.

 "Not my fault." He was quickly getting frustrated, and frustration always made him pout. In the end, they had all decided together that they would live out the rest of their numbered years in Middle-earth in different realms to fulfil their respective duties, and getting from Imladris to Ithilien wasn't exactly a day's ride. Legolas had made his letter sound urgent enough, he thought. At some point, even the most powerful suppressant could no longer fool an omega's natural instincts, and he'd been yearning for his husbands badly all winter as it was.

 They could have ridden through one or two nights more. Right?

 "I had two more days on my calendar. How was I supposed to know it would start early?" he continued defending himself when his lovers raised one fine dark brow at him in unison. Against better knowledge, he started to struggle in his restraints because a new wave of arousal washed over him at the sight of his lovers' thick, long shafts tenting their pants. His hole clenched up uselessly around nothing once more. Hopefully not for long. Being an alpha might come with a little more control over your urges, but even the dominant bastards that he had married could usually not withstand a whole wall of pheromones filling a room, triggering their own desire to mate.

 Still neither of the twins made a move to touch him more. Instead Elladan started rummaging in one of the many bags the two of them had brought for this holiday while Elrohir took over for his brother in cutting Legolas down a size or two. "Right. Who would have thought staving off your heats for fourteen months in a row could mess with your schedule? What an unfair caprice of nature."

 "In case you didn't notice, I had things to do. Something about a quest and the end of the world. Ring a bell?" Legolas felt himself getting seriously irritated. That was good. Irritation helped clearing his head from an overdose of hormones at least for a while. The healing salve taking care of the traces that his own frantic movements had left earlier did the rest. That sore burning quickly gone, it left only the normal – maybe slightly accelerated – amount of need to be fucked for five days straight.

 "The war has been over for almost two years," Elrohir replied flatly. "And even on your journey, you had enough breaks to take care of your basic needs. Moving to these Eru-forsaken lands here at the latest gave you every chance to make sure, we wouldn't have to put you back together again because you just can't keep a damn schedule. Estel offered more than once to help you out."

 Legolas cast his eyes down in shame, only to see his stubborn cock continuing to leak pre-cum on the already messed up sheets. The puddle of clear, sweet-smelling fluid on the mattress from his mating glands being on overdrive kept on growing as well. Yes, probably he wouldn't be in such a fucked up state right now if he'd accepted Aragorn's offer to help him through his heat every now and then. Strict monogamy was a luxury one could not afford living on different sides of this world. Not to mention that an additional player in their already exciting constellation usually never failed to spice things up a bit for his husbands and him. But since the war had started, since all of these months of uncertainty if and when he would see his husbands again at all … Since then, such mundane pleasures had been somehow pushed far into the background. Leading his own realm and trying not to succumb to his sea-longing before it was time took most of Legolas' attention these days. And if he did lay awake at night, frustratingly hard and unsated, no matter how often he got himself off with his own hand or some boring phallus … Then there was always only the image of two lovely, identical faces and bodies on his mind that he wanted to surrender to. A small sob came from his lips when a gentle hand was buried in his hair, lifting his head so that he stared at exactly those beloved faces with their elegant, pointed features, into those beautiful sets of grey eyes that shone with emotion suddenly, his husbands apparently having read his depressed considerations in their wedding bond, though neither of them had enough focus to concentrate on it. "Didn't want anyone else," he whispered, choked, between the occasional moan that forced its way from his lips as hips thrust up into nothing again and again, the emptiness growing worse by the second. "Not at the first time since … It feels like we've all been given our lives in these realms new. You're the only ones I want to celebrate that with."

 "Then it's good we'll be here until fall, isn't it? You'll have half a dozen more heats coming before we go home. But for now, I think you still do need a little reminder of what happens to submissives who don't take care of their bodies properly for their owners." Elladan did his best to keep up that distance in his voice, but in the blue, green and silver that was flickering between all of their souls, Legolas could feel his lover's heart all but burst with pride and affection despite himself, and he could have sworn, there were was a tear or two in the other elf's eyes. The weakness lasted only a second before Elladan reached out to caress Legolas' flushed cheek for a moment, Elrohir still keeping his head right where it was, and then slipped two fingers between his raw-bitten lips, stroking his tongue and the thin stud in it, the insides of his cheeks, before going deeper. A casual flick against the back of his throat made sure Legolas had at least not neglected his gag reflex training. He hadn't which earned him another brief smile before Elladan pulled back, just to hold out a thick metal phallus to his lips next, his eyebrow going even an inch higher when Legolas didn't react right away. "Are you sure you want to act up? Tonight?"

 Legolas did not mean to. He only yearned a lot more to finally get his mouth on one of his husband's cocks instead. But backtalk would only have earned him even more punishment, and he'd end up with that thing in his mouth all the same. So he grudgingly opened up and allowed Elladan to close the straps of the veiny toy behind his head the tip of which was now heavily resting right against his throat, requiring all of what little concentration he had left not to let the natural reflex of his muscles try to push it back out. Busy with that, he didn't realize immediately why the toy was feeling comparatively light in spite of its material until Elladan screwed off a lid located right between the toy's obscene ball-shaped base and threated a thin metal tube into it. All the faster did Legolas' stomach drop, for more than one reason.

 Seeing the flare of unease flash in his eyes, Elrohir leaned in for a soothing kiss to his burning forehead, then licked across his stretched lips teasingly. "Relax, pet. We prepared something very special for you …"

 Legolas knew his husbands' sadistic preferences well enough to keep restlessly pulling on his restraints, ignoring the growing stinging in his joints, in his neck, from trying to turn his head away in spite of Elrohir's iron grip on his braid. The sheer size of a long metal tube that Elladan produced from his bag next to hang it from a hook in the ceiling installed in Legolas' bedroom admittedly for such occasions exactly had his eyes almost bulge from their sockets. For a moment, his throat threatened to close up when his husband connected the vessel to his feeding tube … Then a very well-known salty, thick taste hit his tongue, in a small, easy manageable trickle before it dripped down his throat unhindered. Instead of forcing out a noise of reluctance from his gagged mouth, Legolas found himself moaning loudly.

 "See? We knew you would like that." Finally letting go off him, Elrohir reached lower to massage his throat, purring at the sensation of Legolas' muscles clenching as they were forced to take one sip from his lovers' joined seed after the other. "We made that just for you, every day since the war started and you couldn't be with us to warm our cocks and be fed straight from the source. All saved up in a magic freeze, just waiting for you. Somehow, we had a feeling you would be desperate for our cum in all your holes when we would meet next."

 Legolas whined breathlessly, both in shameless agreement and from the fire still burning high in his blood, demanding for more, even though the worst of hunger in his groin had been soothed at least for the moment. But he couldn't keep his agitated hips from shifting up for even a second, his dripping hole clenching rhythmically around nothing.

 "Greedy slut," Elladan said, affectionately. Just for a second of decadence, he leaned down to lick a broad, hungry stripe over Legolas' swollen hole, humming at the taste of his slick the scent of which was overwhelming by now, drowning the whole room in a thick cloud of raw desire. "I hope you made sure your people take over for you for the rest of the week. I'm going to eat you out for hours tomorrow."

 A very alluring promise but right now still not exactly what Legolas needed. At least this time, he wasn't rewarded with a sharp pinch or slap when he voiced another muffled whine through his speared throat.

 "Don't worry, pet. I have just the thing for you."

 The next thing Elladan got from his toy bag almost had Legolas choke around the phallus in his mouth. What he was looking at was far thicker, almost matching the twins' combined lengths that he longed to feel inside of him so badly, and equipped with a knot double that size above the base. This phallus, too, had a tube running through it. For a moment, he didn't know if he was terrified or mesmerized, and his husbands didn't give him any time to decide about it, either. His slick-loose hole opened up for the intruder easily, his heated flesh immediately feeling the relief of the smooth material slowly spearing it open. With another choked sob, Legolas let his head fall back against the headboard and tried to open his already overstretched legs even further in invitation, enjoying every second of finally having something adequately filling him, even if it was not his husbands' beautiful cocks yet. The toy reached in deep, pushing his insides in a way that sent a lustful cramp through his middle before they gave in. Panting and writhing, he struggled to remember how to breathe around the toy in his mouth, his rim weakly twitching when the toy's knot nudged against it teasingly, pushing back and forth without ever really entering him. Just like his husbands used to tease him when their own heat struck and he was desperate to be tied to one of them for hours while a second cock knotted his mouth, both his holes shut and filled and occupied by the two elves who owned him just like he owned them. It wasn't the same, it was cold and rigid and unforgiving, but it was better than nothing, and when the massive metal bulb finally breached him as well, Legolas spilled all over his leg and the covers without anyone having as much as looked at his cock.

 "So good for us, pet …" A turned on sigh on his lips, Elrohir bent down to lick the thick white drops off his skin and his oversensitive cock that immediately started to harden again, nothing but the worst edge taken off. "No complaining now when we're being so generous with you." He shoved two fingertips into Legolas' mouth alongside the toy, silencing the next of his pleading moans before it could really come. "You'll get to ride our cocks soon enough. But first we'll fill you up properly. You want to be all heavy and round for us when we fuck you, don't you?"

 Legolas had little else he could reply to that. As long as they had not started a calmer, peaceful life in the west together, actually having a baby was off limits, no matter how much the three of them were yearning for that. So being filled to the brim with his husband's cum was as close as he could get to achieve that far-off goal. And since the twins had gone through so much labor and trouble to make this possible for him, right during this exhausting heat no less, it would have been very impolite to decline …

 "Good pet." When Legolas relaxed down into the mattress again, shivering and drooling around his gag and those playful fingers, even Elladan who tended to be a lot stricter than his brother, had a brief praise left for him after connecting the second vessel with their gift to that phallus sitting deep in Legolas' guts now. He pressed a promising kiss to the head of Legolas' cock that was already covered in precum again and pulled his brother close then for a hungry kiss. Right in front of Legolas' helplessly bound body, quickly working hands ripped off laces and buttons, rock-hard erections springing free from skintight leather pants as the twins' own impatience finally took over.

 Legolas was enjoying the sight of his lovers groping and licking and sucking at each other's flushed skin far too much to feel left out, especially when he could start the pressure inside of him grow slowly, from his stomach being fuller by the minute, from his guts invaded by the same thick, heavy fluid until his belly started to swell for all of them to see.

 By that time, Elrohir was on elbows and knees in front of him and hungrily swallowed his cock down to the root, muffling his own screams of pleasure while his brother buried himself into that beautiful small ass in one go.

 Legolas was quickly writhing in his bonds again, each of his senses on overload. He didn't know where to look, which sight to enjoy most, his own ragged panting was too loud in his ears, and breathing was hard not only because of the heavy bump of cum pressing down on his lungs by now but because of the mixed scent of omega and alpha hormones infusing this air. His skin felt too tight for his body, not only on his front where it was stretching obscenely under the growing volume of the seed sloshing inside of him. Feverish lust darkened his eyes, not soothed for even a single second as he emptied himself in his lover's mouth, his balls swollen and heavy still, and his hole leaking slick around the artificial knot spearing him open.

 But not even any of that could capture his fascination more than watching his lovers being so very turned on by what they were doing to him that their own animalistic need overcame their nature, Elrohir submitting to his brother with the ease almost of a trained omega, moaning obscenely around Legolas' cock as Elladan pounded into him. While an alpha hole wasn't made to deal with the stretch of a knot, Elrohir took the rest of his twin easily, tightening up around every glorious inch of cock while he slurped and swallowed around Legolas' cock in the same rhythm. Before he even spilled for the first time this night himself, he'd sucked a third height out of Legolas' oversensitive length.

 It still wasn't enough, it wouldn't be enough until Legolas could ride one of those lovely cocks or both for the next few days without a break himself. But he thought, just for seeing his husband's turned on to the point of total loss of control just from watching him endure their latest perverted little game, waiting for a few more hours would be totally worth it.

#elladan #elrohir #legolas #lord of the rings #and all tolkien lore #dysfunctional elves ftw #The Lord of the Rings #lotr #fanfiction #nsfw

[tolkienhorror]

Warnings: incest

Please note: This was created on an anon tumblr prompt on my main blog. Prompt: Elladan/Elrohir/Legolas - Slave training

Note: This is kind of a follow up to this story.

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"Getting started without me? Rude." Elrohir just dropped the supplies he'd brought from the market and most of his clothes somewhere in a corner before approaching the playroom that his husbands and him had built in their house pretty much first thing after moving in. He tsked at his twin.

"You know how he gets when he's had no attention for a few days." Elladan shrugged, not a whole lot guilty about already having stripped the third in their relationship of all clothes and tying him to their huge, leather-covered play bed on his knees.

  Facing the headboard with his wrists tied to it and a rigid spreader bar between his ankles, all of his Legolas' vulnerable spots were revealed to play with.

  Elladan himself had wedged himself between their subs lean, muscular body and said headboard and was propped comfortably against the carved star that adorned the frame. With one hand loosely in their husband's hair, he was shallowly thrusting into Legolas' mouth, only just on the brink of real arousal, still clothed with resilient green hunting garb from a ride earlier. Only the laces of his breeches were untied enough to allow a first little workout for their submissive. "Seriously, how can you say no when such a pretty mouth begs to serve you?"

  Legolas mumbled something around the head of Elladan's cock and actually tried to pull away with a frown but was stopped short by those manacles around his wrists. The glance he was regarding Elladan with gave away that someone was still feeling bratty. Which explained a couple of hand-shaped bruises on his round behind. Well, well. It seemed, after spending a couple of weeks in his father's new-found Kingdom far-off Tirion, to take care of a few boring but necessary royal duties, their lover was still far too used to a more authoritarian role than he usually preferred it. One that he'd never sought out in their entirely equal relationship, and certainly not in their bed.

  Elrohir should have realized this morning already, at a brief, almost aggressive reunion fuck where he'd almost ended up bottoming. Which, occasionally, was to his liking … if it came at his command. After that, Elladan and he had agreed quickly on an urgently necessary lesson to remind their lover how much he had always enjoyed it, giving himself to them with all of his body and mind during sex. If Elrohir had known though that Elladan wouldn't be able to keep his hands from that gorgeous body even for an hour, he might have just tied Legolas to that bed with a huge phallus lodged in his mouth and taken his twin with him to the city center for a necessary grocery ride. He pulled Elladan down to him with a firm grip around his thick dark hair and gave his lower lip an annoyed nip. "Watch out, 'Ro. If you can't control yourself, you might be next to spend the night in chains."

  "I'd love to see you try." His twin growled at him. Another betimes quite interesting little power game was in the air for a few seconds as two identical pairs of eyes stared each other down, arousal fighting pride, heat fighting dominance … But then Elladan's eyes closed, a shudder went through him as Legolas did something especially naughty with his tongue. The short tension was broken, delayed for another night without the third in their group. "So, have you brought the gifts for our slutty Princeling?"

  The way, he was drawling out the word gift sent a shiver down Legolas' broad back; their husband knew their sadistic preferences well enough at this point to know when he was in for an especially demanding night.

  "Patience." Elrohir gave Legolas' butt a slap himself and leaned in to suck the sensitive tip of his lover's ear into his mouth, gently rolling it with his tongue and nibbling on it until Legolas' half-hard cock was at full attention, reddened under the metal bars that surrounded it, around the thick sound plugging it. "This is going to get a good workout." Elrohir gave the throbbing length a few light strokes through the cage until his husband was keening around Elladan's cock and trying to thrust into Elrohir's loose fist. "Patience," he repeated, almost softly. But that dark glistening in his eyes should be a warning sign for his husband that a little bit of pleasure was never anything but an appetizer before he was in for the real ride. "You keep that up, my sweet pet." Putting his hand over Elladan's on the back of Legolas' neck, he shoved their lover's head closer towards his twin's hips, forcing him to take all of Elladan's thick cock in until Legolas was gagging slightly and the beautiful bulge stretching his throat was starting to show that never failed to make Elrohir rock-hard within split seconds. "But no coming, for either of you, or I will have to rethink who will get punished tonight." With that, he reluctantly headed to the kitchen, ignoring his brother's offended pout, to prepare the main course for his husband's slave training tonight that would not have anything to do with a delicious meal though …

  His warning seemed to have made an impression. When he came back, Elladan had left his hedonistic spot at the headend and picked up a simple wooden paddle for a light warmup.

  Their lover's perfect butt was a lovely shade of red. Even more bruises were blooming on especially sensitive spots like the crease of his thighs. Judging by how much his cock was pressing against the bars of its cage and the wanton noises from his lips, a treatment far from being a punishment and definitely not suited to remind their submissive of his place. Legolas even had the nerve to make eyes at Elrohir and the heavy-filled bowl he was carrying, completely disregarding every respect towards his masters in the middle of a game.

  Yep, they would definitely have to start at zero once more. Actually, the twins should be thanking Thranduil for providing them with an excuse for such extremely naughty encounters again and again, by spoiling his heir-on-paper rotten at every of these visits. "What we need here is a little flavor, I think." Elrohir put his souvenir down on the mattress next to Legolas' leg, a grin spreading on his lips at the sudden look of apprehension on their lover's face.

  "Like … what?" Legolas had now obviously caught a better sight of the dozen egg-sized and –shaped icicles, none of them having even begun to melt yet thanks to Elrohir's strong freezing spell. And yet the colors of red, green, black and dark yellow that was their cores shone through the thick transparent shell, giving away that there wasn't just water waiting for whatever unfortunate patch of skin those contents would land on once these little missiles would thaw. And someone did very obviously not like that thought. Good.

  "You'll know soon enough." Elrohir grabbed the firm braid his brother had tied their lover's gold blond hair into and shoved Legolas' face deep into the pillows which forced him to stretch his bound arms further towards the upper corners of the bed and would lead gravity to help those nasty little toys slip as deep inside as they were supposed to go.

  "You know, you can just tell me how to move." The soft linen couldn't muffle Legolas' warm, deep voice enough to hide that annoying complaining tone in it.

  So much for the consideration of starting slow with the more harmlessly filled icicles and keeping the others as a threat. "You are begging for it tonight, pet." Elrohir landed a harsh slap on his lover's already blazing red ass. When Legolas' untouched hole tightened up on instinct and then released with the next pained moan from his lips, Elrohir pushed the first ice-egg past that twitching rim, enjoying his lover's heavy shudder and his louder yelp.

  This time, Legolas stayed silent though.

  Well, too late for that now. Elrohir patted that heated, bruised ass condescendingly once more and handed the bowl to his brother then. "After you two had so much fun earlier, why don't you make yourself useful? On your stomach, El', and lose those pants. I've got some more preparing to do."

  "Careful, brother. We don't want these to land in the wrong crevice by accident, do we?" It was Elladan's turn to glare at him. But the adorable way, their lover was starting to shift his weight restlessly on the mattress, panting and trembling when that first digit started to roll around and melt inside his tight channel, freezing water tickling most sensitive flesh, was apparently too good to not want more of it immediately. They could engage in a duel between the two of them again when next time their husband was out of town. For now, it was Legolas, being the unlucky recipient of all their affection. Elladan took just enough time to shed his own clothes before laying down on his side behind their bound lover, one leg propped up to open himself to Elrohir's affections. But his focus was on that vulnerable opening right in front of his eyes now. Where Elrohir tended to be straightforward with his punishments and lectures, fond of bringing his submissive to his very limits before slamming him headfirst into a mind-blowing orgasm … His twin brother could be far sneakier. Nothing but the occasional sigh was on Elladan's lips when Elrohir started covering his small cheeks with a generous amount of oil and effectively fingering him open, with the practice that only treating a body identical to your own could give. His senses and attention were solely on the small kisses, licks and bites he dealt out to Legolas' bruised behind, light ones now, almost tender, lulling their sub into a treacherous kind of security while filling his insides up with one of the dozen ice-eggs after the other. Every now and then, he would bend deeper and suck Legolas' caged, swollen balls into his mouth or lick some of that excess water from his exceedingly swollen rim, with obscene slurping noises, so that their lover's caged cock never really went soft in spite of the icy temperatures cooling his insides.

  It wasn't long before Legolas was a groaning mess, his hips thrusting into nothing, his cheeks flushed both in arousal and embarrassment from the gurgling noise of fluid inside of him, and the soon desperate attempt to clench his poor hole and try keep the steadily growing amount of water deep inside of him.

  Which Elrohir was of course only too happy to help with. Done with his own work, he handed his brother the vial with oil and watched, stroking his own neglected cock through his tight leather pants, as Elrohir reached for the toy that Elladan had hidden at the very bottom of that now empty bowl which was not only quite wet by now but also almost freezing cold itself.

  When Elladan thrust that short but sadistically wide plug into their submissive's shaking body, a helpless shriek came from Legolas' lips, his muscles clenching up violently around the new intruder. "Fuck …"

  "No swearing, pet." Elrohir gave the base of the toy and his lover's reddened hole a good slap and reluctantly untangled himself from the alluring scene to walk to the headboard, motioning Elladan to do the same. They were both growing impatient … And the real fun of those icicles in their lover's body melting down to their core could begin any minute now. "You're about to warm up very quickly, don't worry. Be good now. On your back." With Legolas' restraints gone for the moment, they easily maneuvered him around, Elladan catching his almost raw-bitten lips in a soothing kiss while Elrohir reattached those ropes and the spreader bar to their husband's wrists and ankles. He was most satisfied to see that in spite of the discomfort, Legolas' long, slightly curved cock was still hard in its own restraint, begging for attention, which was just as well because it was about to get it. "Remember what you asked for in the morning?" he purred into his husband's ear. "Your cock is going to get a good workout now, just like your pretty mouth. I suggest you do a good job with both. It might be in your best interest that you get us both off quickly tonight …" With that admittedly ominous warning, he knelt over his lover's head with his hips low, feeding Legolas his own length inch by inch before his husband could get the stupid idea of protesting again.

  With mesmerized eyes, he watched his twin take his own place with widely spread legs over Legolas' slender hips, the way Elladan threw his head back in rare but always honest, deep lust when he lowered himself onto that caged length, so much thicker and more rigid with those bars surrounding it. An exquisite sensation for both sides, only for one of them, there wasn't the relief of an orgasm waiting on the end of that firm slap of skin on skin, balls against balls.

  Elrohir could feel that same expression mirrored on his own face when he had finally buried himself all the way in his lover's throat, enjoying the quivering clench of muscles as his lover fought for air in vain, a hot, ragged breeze against his own too-full balls as they were nestled heavily against his husband's face. Only when Legolas' body tensed up hard, when his breathing became too irregular and then was suddenly broken by a loud, alarmed whimper, Elrohir raised his hips again to allow his lover a much needed breath, not far enough to give him a chance to talk though. He could hear the filthy insults in all existing Sindar and Silvan dialects aimed at him just as well in their wedding bond when their submissive finally seemed to start the effects of the first of those eggs melting all the way.

  Whether it was the sharp burning of spice or pepper, the itching of stinging nettle powder or the sting of ginger, none of those half-frozen masses revealed bit by bit could feel awfully pleasant against most sensitive walls. And Legolas knew very well, of course, that there was no way out of that kind of treatment until his lovers would decide for it. Which would hopefully be enough motivation to dedicate himself solely to pleasuring his husbands instead of acting up.

  "Now, now." Elladan reached out to rub his lover's nipples, pulling on the rings in them in turn with small tweaks until those noises of distress and pain on Legolas' lips turned into arousal again and his hips shot up, searching for friction that would only torture his caged cock further but pistoled its tip right against Elladan's most sensitive spot. "See? That's so much better." Never letting go off his caresses on his lover's nipples, Elladan closed his eyes with deep moans of bliss and met every of those erratic thrusts with a slow roll of hip himself, never letting the speed become too fast but enjoying every second of the evil little game.

  A sight far too beautiful not to lean in for a passionate kiss. His hand on his brother's neck, Elrohir licked deeply into his mouth, drowning his own husky noises of lust as he fucked their husband's throat just as leisurely. He was shuddering every time Legolas screamed out around him, gagged on the broad head of his cock spearing his throat open or swallowed around him tightly, almost desperately, trying to push him faster to the edge. "You're doing so well, pet." Sitting back again, he reached behind him until he could grab his lover's braid again and pulled Legolas' head even tighter against his body until he could feel those plushy lips right against his stomach and every spasm of throat muscles milked him of more precum. With all those wonderful visual and physical stimulations, it would have been easy enough, losing himself to an early height. Instead, he reached down to his lover's bloated stomach and started to rub over it in tight circles until Legolas screamed out around him and struggled against his bonds, all that thick, irritating fluid inside of him pushing up into his intestines further; his hips arched up helplessly in uncontrolled thrusts.

  An assault Elladan couldn't withstand for long. He fell forward and into Elrohir's arms while spilling all over Legolas' quickly heaving chest, cursing and moaning.

  Thanks to just a few expert rubbing movements of calloused fingertips on his own nipples, Elrohir's last control also went out of the window. Never giving their submissive a chance to pull away or enjoy the taste of seed on his tongue that he was so addicted to, he came down Legolas' throat, the world around him drowning in nothing but heat and salt and the relief of that awful pressure from the last few hours in his groin finally releasing.

  Until he could see clearly again, Elladan had got up already, feeling slightly more lenient than him after their husband had behaved so well for them. With his lips softly pressed to that obscene bulge on Legolas' lower body, he sung a few soft syllables of healing and emptying against the too-hot skin, until the desperate twitching in their lover's body slowly started to calm down and his stomach was entirely flat again.

  Completely wrung out, their submissive lay in his bonds, not even with enough strength left to complain about his poor cock still being left out of the whole fun. He only opened his eyes again when Elladan and Elrohir cuddled down by his sides, with soothing kisses to his sweat-bathed skin. A wry smile tugged on his lips. "You're not going to let me come for the rest of the week, are you?"

  Elrohir gave one of his lover's still quite swollen nipples an unfriendly bite, reminding him that there was a lot more spice and water left where that filling earlier had come from. "Maybe if you learn how to keep your big mouth shut for a change."

  "But then who would annoy you?" Legolas looked at him so sweetly from under his lashes that he couldn't even be mad. A few seconds later, their husband had fallen asleep, completely exhausted.

  Which was a very welcome development as Elrohir could see in his brother's glistening eyes that Elladan had already come up with the next idea in his head to remind Legolas of why home was always the best place to be.

#elladan #elrohir #legolas #lord of the rings #and all tolkien lore #dysfunctional elves ftw #The Lord of the Rings #lotr #fanfiction #nsfw

[tolkienhorror]

Warnings: incest

Please note: This was created on an anon tumblr prompt on my main blog. Prompt: Elladan/Elrohir - Wax play

Note: This is kind of a follow up to this story.

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"You realize this is going to hurt more if you don't hold still, right?" A provocative glint shining in his eyes, Elladan tugged on the heavy chain he'd just hooked to the sharp-edged clamps on his twin's swollen nipples.

  In delight, he watched Elrohir wince and instinctively try, against better knowledge, to follow the movement and relieve the painful strain from numerous metal spikes on the sensitive nubs. A movement that tilted the heavy candle, lodged between two strands of rope running from his firmly braided hair all the way down to the base of the thick hook in his well-oiled behind, the wrong direction. The movement had a few drops of hot wax trickle onto Elrohir's unprotected back and drew a protesting whine from his lips. More protesting sounds followed that were probably meant to get Elladan to stop but that was hard to tell with a sizable wooden phallus stuffed into Elrohir's mouth, deeply enough for the fake mushroom head to make him gag again and again.

  "Told you." Elladan patted his lover's ass condescendingly, grinning at the warning growl from Elrohir's thin, stretched lips. He gave his right cheek a tighter slap just for good measure, watching, mesmerized, how that twitching hole tightened up around the cool metal spreading it open. Beautiful. They didn't often indulge in such games, mostly because they had their husband to take out their darker pleasures on who very happily endured every perverted fantasy and discomfort dealt out to him. But when they happened to be one elf short in their three-way marriage, due to the duties of one of them coming in the way of spending time together in their home at the very edge of Tirion, and when that unfortunate condition lasted for longer than a few weeks … Then sometimes, the desire to take out such urges on whoever twin let their guard down for a moment too long grew too strong.

  Tonight, that happened to be Elladan's brother, and Elladan couldn't deny that it was an absolutely delicious sight, once he'd managed to force Elrohir on his hands and knees, spreader bars keeping his delicate ankles and strong wrists where they were, with more ropes parting his well-trained chest muscles, his flat, firm ass cheeks. Thinner ones were wrapped around his cock and balls to keep the arousal in check that the embarrassing ordeal visibly caused Elrohir in spite of all resistance. After a few more seconds of trying to get out of his restraints that only splashed more wax on his lower back and ass cheeks, Elrohir finally stopped his struggling. Narrow grey eyes were glaring back towards Elladan with furious annoyance as much as with unwilling lust. Free me. Now.

  Elladan chose not to hear the words whispered in their wedding bond. He knelt down behind his lover with an appreciative hum to inspect that sweet, stuffed hole from up close. He nudged the heavy curve of the hook with playful fingertips, pulled it back half an inch against the tug of the ropes which forced his brother to lean his head back wide with a whine. Then he thrust it even deeper into the heated channel, railing up his lover even more with the unsatisfying, faint grazing of the toy's curve against his prostate. "Now, where were we …" He left another slap on his lover's other cheek, nodding in praise when Elrohir actually managed to keep still enough this time for the candle not to topple the wrong way. "I think we were just talking about giving your insolent little tongue a little workout. Will you be good for me if I take that gag out?"

  The only answer he was being regarded with was a murderous glance back over a thin, trembling shoulder.

  "Didn't think so." Elladan saw a shudder creep down Elrohir's back once his brother saw Elladan's toothy, hungry grin, probably realizing that Elladan had a lot more on his mind tonight to torture him with. Well, too late for apologies now. "You …" He breathed an almost innocent kiss to one reddened cheek and then gave it a hungry bite, watching in satisfaction as another thick drop of deep blue wax hit his lover's spine. "… will be begging to suck me off tonight."

  Elrohir huffed, a sound quickly turning into a quiet scream at the next slap to the crease of one thigh. His brows knitted warily, his eyes were going wide when Elladan pushed himself back to his feet and reached for a leather crop from the ride they'd returned from earlier. Another hectic attempt of trying to slip from the manacles on his wrists and ankles almost had the candle right above his butt fall over. A broad trickle of wax ran down the crease of his ass, drawing a louder scream from him this time as it tortured his stretched rim before drying.

  "Tsk." Elladan took a second to flip the thick, sticky mass from the most sensitive spot with a fingernail, then rubbing over the reddened, sore flesh, enjoying his lover's pained moans and the way Elrohir's trapped cock twitched against its bonds as the darker side of arousal swept over him. "You can do better than that, I'm sure. I think that‘s … ten, for leading us down that muddy slope earlier, another fifteen for fighting back and five for back talking. Sounds fair to you?"

  Finally understanding how serious Elladan was about getting him to his limits tonight, Elrohir knew better than to even growl or look at him this time.

  "Thought so." Elladan tapped the crop against his own palm a few times, letting his eyes wander over his brother's flawless pale skin, the few reddened spots where the wax had tortured him already, his fluttering, stretched rim, as if to decide where to aim his first blow. Not wanting to push his lover too fast, he chose the backside of Elrohir's slender, widely spread thighs for a couple of first tentative smacks, watching with pride as his lover bravely fought the urge to startle too badly, the candle quivering in its unsteady hold but not tilting again.

  It was an irresistible instinct to tighten up at being hit, though, so Elrohir was soon busy thrusting his hips against nothing in frustration as the toy inside of him rubbed all the wrong places. With Elladan's smacks growing harder, targeting his cheeks in turn and even his tortured hole from time to time, he couldn't keep himself steady enough anymore. A deep blue, thick ring of wax soon surrounded his filled hole like a dark halo, keeping the toy lodged even firmer in his ass. A tear or two had sprung from his eyes at the unpleasant sting of hot mass against one of his most sensitive spots, and he was working that gag in his mouth furiously, trying to dislodge it in spite of the strap around his head keeping it in place. But there was no signal to stop either from his fingers or in their bond.

  "Looks like you're enjoying this more than you want to admit," Elladan chuckled after landing the last blow and then added one to his brother's swollen rim because he was already being glared at again. This time, his lover reared up against his bonds so much, screaming out through his gag, that Elladan had to stop the candle on his back from falling himself, or it might have actually fallen to the floor. A carpet on fire would have meant a very unsexy ending to their game. "Very flat learning curve though. We're going to have to work on that." Without a warning, he threw the crop away and grabbed his lover's restrained arm and leg, flipping him over roughly, watching in amusement as Elrohir tried to struggle against his shackles, looking adorably like a stranded turtle with those bars between his ankles and wrists. A much too cute sight to already do without it. With some of the ropes and hooks always dangling somewhere from the ceiling of their playroom, Elladan fixed those bars in place and pulled them towards the ceiling a few inches so that his brother was trussed up even more helplessly and Elladan could get to his swollen, reddened cock and balls unhindered now. "Let's try this again, shall we?" Under Elrohir's increasingly restless eyes, he pulled close a jar with magically sterilized, thin oil from a shelf and another, far thinner candle, not even half the size of one finger. And still it filled his lover visibly with sudden shocked respect when Elladan slicked the little item up generously and then reached for his brother's straining cock, pinching the broad head with two fingers, teasing the hidden slit.

  Again those muffled, enraged noises around the gag but no order to stop inside their minds. Instead, a deep flush of lust spreading down over Elrohir's chest to his rock-hard cock, nipples pebbled and swollen not only from the unrelenting grip of the clamps, skin bathed in sweat. Someone was clearly enjoying himself a great deal here, no matter how much he hated the fact that he did.

  "This might sting a little," Elladan warned his brother with a comfortable grin, then thrust the blunt end of the candle slowly into his cock. It was a mesmerizing sight, seeing his lover's thick length stretch around it. Hearing the half-turned on, half-pained shriek from Elrohir's lips left his own cock twitch so hard in his breeches that he had to pause to reach down and open his belt and the laces of his pants because they were getting unbearably tight. With his free hand, he kept the snow-white candle from slipping back up his brother's stretched urethra, shallow pushes slowly slipping it deeper instead until a small resistance of muscle and an even louder whine from his brother's lips let him know, it could go no further. Lodged so deeply in the sensitive channel now, it would also not come out by itself, no matter how much Elrohir writhed and cursed and yelled crude insults at Elladan in their bond. With more than two inches of the little tool still left, there was also more than enough wriggle room without having to fear that it would cause serious injuries when Elladan reached for the second, still burning candle and brought it to hover over his brother's vulnerably exposed groin.

  Elrohir's eyes almost bulged from their sockets. He let out an almost intelligible grunt this time, but still nothing that would have sufficed to put a halt to their game. But he suddenly lay conspicuously still, even when Elladan slowly tilted the far bigger candle and big, torturous drops fell down on his bound genitalia, leaving long blue stripes on his length, his swollen balls, even his taint. Quiet whines of discomfort was all that got Elladan.

  Definitely not enough for his taste. Bringing the two candles closer to each other, he lit the wick of the second one and put the first one away with a hand slightly trembling in unbridled arousal. "So pretty …" There was a deep husk in his voice the he could no longer control, his own cock twitching in his hand as he reached for himself, unable to fight the urge for at least some stimulation at the alluring sight of his brother's pretty length stuffed so full, adorned with a small flame flickering from Elrohir's shaking. "Now, do you want to talk about making yourself useful with your mouth again? I suggest you rather hurry. I imagine it might be pretty unpleasant when that wax starts falling …"

  Please … The anxious whisper in his mind was more than loud enough this time, and it sounded earnest.

  It made it hard to still stay strict, but after all, this was supposed to be a lesson. "Please what? You're going to have to be more specific."

  Elrohir closed his eyes, defeated, and shuddered, forcing himself into the ultimate submission that was usually only reserved for their lover. I want to suck your cock, 'El. Please …

  How could one refuse such a generous offer? Two seconds later, the buckle of the gag's strap was open and Elrohir gently slipped the toy out of his lover's mouth, cautiously massaging his jaw for a moment to make sure, Elladan wasn't in too much pain and that there was still mostly lust glistening in his heated eyes when he leaned down for a brief upside down kiss. A reward for staying silent and holding still though Elrohir was visibly still turned on beyond belief and agitated because of the far too-close heat hovering over his throbbing length. Only then, he wrapped his hand around his lover's neck and lifted his head up in the perfect angle to slip his own straining cock between Elladan's willingly opened lips, a deep sigh falling from his own at the well-known, beloved feeling of hot wetness encasing him. "Just like that …" With slow thrusts, he went deeper, forcing his lover to take more and more of him, most satisfied to realize, there was hardly any choking and gagging this time when he was finally buried all the way in that skilled mouth, his swollen balls heavily resting on his brother's face, ragged, heavy breathing tickling the sensitive skin. Bent deeply over his lover's helpless body like this, he could lean in close enough to blow on Elrohir's stuffed cock from above, pushing that flickering flame from one side to another while he was thrusting and jerking, and enjoying the high-pitched whines vibrating around the head of his cock in his brother's throat when the threatening heat came closer and closer to his pre-cum-covered tip but never quite touching yet.

  Elrohir promptly thrust his head up higher and faster to take him in even impossibly deeper although that tugged on the toy torturing his hole and left his cock twitching weakly against its restraints, his balls trying to draw up to his body in a useless attempt of another staved off orgasm.

  A temptation too big to resist any longer. With a long groan of enjoyment, Elladan spent himself right down his lover's throat, one of his moans almost casually blowing out that candle before it could do some uncomfortable damage. The bindings around his lover's erection though stayed right where they were, even when he'd long gone soft and retreated himself. He left the candle stuck deep in Elrohir's tortured length there as well, and the hook spreading him open, too, letting his lover know he was not quite out of the woods yet. "You did well," Elladan murmured softly before bending down for another kiss, tasting himself on his brother's sore lips. Almost on accident, a fingertip of his got caught up in that chain that was loosely splayed on his lover's chest. He slowly lifted it up and then tugged further until Elrohir screamed into his mouth, his nipples an angry shade of red from the new strain. "Now, shall we see how lovely those would look all covered in wax?"

#elladan #elrohir #lord of the rings #and all tolkien lore #dysfunctional elves ftw #lotr #The Lord of the Rings #fanfiction #nsfw

[tolkienhorror]

Warnings: incest

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given by @wisdomandlogicareking on my main blog. Prompt: Elladan/Elrohir/Legolas - Slave training

Note: This is kind of a follow up/second chapter to this story.

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"Come on, pet, you can do it." With the sun quickly descending outside the window, the flickering light left in the room painted an almost predatory glint in Elladan's grey eyes.

Legolas shivered. Inside its cage, his half-hard cock gave an interested twitch, and he let out a moan in protest, tugging on the soft rope that kept his hands bound behind his back. This whole thing would have been a lot more interesting, if his husbands hadn't once more decided that he wasn't allowed to come tonight before they felt he had earned it.

  "No whining. You promised to be good, remember?" Elrohir had finally screwed the last of toys into place that the twins had chosen for their entertainment tonight and took his place next to his twin by the fire, snuggling back with a shit-eating grin, reaching for a glass with blood-red wine from the table.

  "You said you wanted to learn how to serve us both better, didn't you?" Elladan prompted when Legolas still hesitated, staring at the long row of phalluses in all kind of shapes and sizes fixed to several small boxes, cushions and chairs before him, lining up in a row towards the sofa where his lovers were waiting for him. Only they wouldn't receive him tonight until Legolas had overcome all these obstacles; they'd been very clear about that. And if he didn't hurry, the twins would have spent so much time fucking each other seven ways to Tirion that they'd have no energy left for him.

  Legolas felt an offended pout on his lips, and he raised his chin a little. He'd had to do without his lovers for centuries when they'd all still dwelled in Middle-earth where they'd always lived in separate realms. His husbands had always had each other on lonely nights while Legolas had had to do with the company of his own hand and boring toys. Now that they'd finally made it to a land where there were no more obligations for any of them, he was determined to claim all the attention he'd been missing for far too long. Unfortunately, as he'd always had a quite masochistic and submissive streak and his lovers were dominant assholes by nature, that came with a challenge more often than not. Tonight, he was just not certain he was up to it. Some of those were big toys. "I don't know …" He shifted his weight a little and winced when he could feel a few drops of the oil that his lovers had just emptied into his hole dribble from between his clenched cheeks. His skin felt and looked increasingly flushed under the glances of his lovers. His nipples were slightly swollen from the heavy chains attached to the piercings in them, his cock straining against the metal bars and the long rod buried deep in it, his balls swollen heavily. His lovers had been with their family in Tirion all week, and Legolas had been forbidden to have fun in their marital bed alone; he was starved for his husbands' touch to the bone right now and was willing to do a lot for it. But the thought of putting up such a show for them …

  "You can do it," Elladan repeated, thick arousal choking his voice. He took a long sip from his own glass and slowly licked a few drops of red from his thin, broad lips which sent shivers down Legolas' restrained arms immediately. "Don't you want to train your pretty hole for us, pet? Just imagine how good it will feel if you can take us both whenever you want."

  "No more long preparations," Elrohir confirmed, reaching out to his twin to pull him close for a lazy, open-mouthed kiss while first tracing the shape of Elladan's thick cock with his fingertips and then his own through their tight breeches, his eyes never leaving Legolas'. "That could be all yours, anytime you want … You just need to show us how much you want it, pet … How well you can stretch that sweet hole of yours … You want to be beautiful for us, don't you?"

  That, Legolas wanted badly. His lovers always loved it when he dressed up for them, with lots of lavish clothes and fine jewelry. They became especially passionate when he expected them in their home after a long day in the library with a bit of make-up on and dressed up like for a reception at Finarfin's palace. After almost a whole week of being touch-deprived he really wanted to be fucked long and hard, by both of them. If that was what it took … Still reluctantly, he approached the first stool and the toy tucked to its middle, quite plain and straight and short, with a thick fake cock head that would hopefully provide at least a little bit of stimulation. Broadening his stance, still tentatively, he started to cower down until he could feel the unforgiving wooden surface press against his slick hole, a gasp escaping his lips. It went in surprisingly smoothly after his lovers had finger-fucked him open so thoroughly earlier, so he could sit all the way down easier than expected, with a small, lustful moan. A sound of frustration escaped him once he was fully seated and had to realize, that damn thing was not nearly long enough to stimulate the right spot inside of him. He scooted back and forward a few times, pressing his hips down closer to the chair's hard surface, but achieved only another unsatisfying twitch of his bound cock, more demanding emptiness in his groin. When he looked up again, that urge in his middle immediately increased, because he could see that Elladan had pushed his hand down Elrohir's pants and was slowly stroking his twin's erection, still without ever taking his eyes off Legolas.

  Elladan had sunk back in the cushions of the sofa and had his eyes half-closed but was watching Legolas as well, one hand buried in Elrohir's braids, his hips arching up against his brother's touch, a small sheen of sweat glistening on his high forehead. "Just like that, my sweet little Prince. Come on, warm-up's over. I know you want more …"

  This time, Legolas didn't hesitate, not least because he knew how quickly his lovers could engage in a far more active game when they were in the mood, and he really didn't want them to start getting off without him. Besides, the next phallus wasn't just significantly longer but also made of snow-white porcelain and slightly bent forward. He loved it. The toys, too, were all dripping with oil, and he felt far more relaxed now, seeing how much his husbands were enjoying it, watching him take what they had prepared for him, so he could lower himself on the second chair as well in spite of the toy being slightly thicker. A load groan came from his mouth as the toy's pointed tip pressed firmly against his most sensitive spot and a small dollop of white dripped from his straining cock, escaping the probe stretching his urethra open. The unforgiving bars dug into sensitive flesh as the stubborn organ tried to get fully hard, and he knew, he should have kept still. But the heat was throbbing through his veins faster and faster, and that cool pressure inside felt far too good. On shaking knees, he pushed himself up a bit and let himself fall again and then did it again, throwing his head back with a moan of pure enjoyment on his lips.

  "Fuck, you're hot, pet." Elladan sounded at least as breathless as him. His hand trembled so badly that he almost spilled the rest of his wine. Impatiently putting the glass away, he ripped open the laces of his breeches, freeing his reddened cock, then buried both hands in his brother's hair and pushed him down towards his groin. "Open up, 'Ro. I want to feel your throat around me while he dances for us."

  Elrohir shot him a slightly annoyed glance for neither of the brothers loved to be ordered as much as giving orders to their husband in turn. But in the end, he was far too hungry to get his mouth on his twin's cock to disagree. Stretching out on the sofa on his side, so he could still see Legolas, he slowly sucked Elladan's length between his lips, stretching out his tongue to rub it over the underside, making his brother moan out softly.

  For a moment, Legolas got lost watching his lovers' game on his part, but the memory of how good those two mouths felt on his own erection when he was allowed to feel them only convinced his cock that it should try get hard once more. Which only ended in more discomfort, and he decided, he really needed to hurry, because he would simply go crazy if someone didn't touch him soon. The next toy was so long that he hardly needed to squat down before its slick glass surface pressed against his already slightly swollen hole. The head was flared, so he needed to wriggle a bit and will his hole to relax before it slipped into him. The rest of the phallus was frustratingly slim though, hardly providing any resistance, so maybe he lowered himself on that chair a little faster than strictly necessary, chasing the touch against the spot where he really needed to feel it which earned him an amused chuckle from Elladan.

  "Such a greedy little pet," his husband murmured affectively, never taking his hand of his twin's head but pushing him down against his crotch harder until Elrohir gagged slightly and drool began to fall from his lips, bathing Elladan's swollen balls. "Now, now, no cheating. It doesn't count when you don't sit all the way down."

  Legolas glared but couldn't keep up the expression for long, because fuck, it was hot, seeing his lover fuck his husband's throat like that. Besides, his thighs began to tremble uncomfortably as he stayed still, fighting the slightly uncomfortable sensation of that almost square cock head against that one crucial bend deep inside. It felt so much better, pushing himself back up a few inches and enjoying the scrape of the toy against his increasingly oversensitive prostate, watching the thick precum drip from his caged cock onto the chair as he was fighting the ropes around his wrists once more, as if that could help that cruel pressure while the key for his hole was safely kept in one of his husbands' earrings … With a small, frustrated sob, he gave in to the burning of his leg muscles and cautiously moved his hips forward, bearing down until he could feel his muscles give in and he was seated against the soft leather of that third chair, gasping for air, turned on beyond belief but cruelly kept away from any real satisfaction. "Please …"

  "No slowing down now, pet," Elladan chided him sweetly. "You still have a couple of toys before you. Come on, show us how well you can train on your own. I promise it will be worth it …" His last words quickly got lost in a moan, because Elrohir had managed to take him all the way in and was sucking him in earnest, face reddened, cheeks hollowed, eyes clouded with desire and the growing lack of air.

  Legolas knew from experience there wasn't much holding back once their husband started to work those throat muscles and forced himself to push himself back up because he really didn't want his lovers to have all the fun without him. His twitching hole tried to cling to the oiled surface of the phallus, then around thin air, and he winced, breathing heard and unevenly as he tried in vain to ignore the raging emptiness in his groin. At least that sensation wouldn't last long, because next he found himself kneeling over a heavy, leather-covered box from which a toy almost the length of his forearm protruded, curved, with a riffled surface and several ridges that would doubtlessly catch in the most delicious, torturous places if you could actually manage to get it in. At a closer look at that thing, he suddenly had to doubt it.

  Elladan let out a warning growl of disappointment because his brother suddenly moved away, coughing, his voice rough from having his face fucked so wildly and judging by the bulge in his breeches still badly turned on.

  Elrohir ignored his brother, catching Legolas' uncertain eyes instead, and raised an eyebrow at him, narrowing his eyes. "You've had bigger, pet. No copping out now. Or do you not want the both of us tonight after all?"

  "Please …" Against better judgment, Legolas started to fight his bonds again, staring up at his lovers with pleading eyes as if he didn't know how strict they could be when they had set their minds to something. And they were so damn sexy doing it. Far too sexy. He only wasn't sure how much longer he could take that torturous throb in his cock, that longing inside.

  "Be a good little pet for us," Elladan murmured before pulling his brother back down on his cock impatiently, thrusting up into his mouth in earnest now, his cock covered in precum and saliva, a sight that made Legolas' own mouth water. "Just three more, pet. You can do it, for us, right?"

  Legolas didn't think he could but he needed something to fill him up, right now, so he was thrusting down against the long mushroom head of the phallus before he knew, screaming out as he sank down on it deeply, his channel quivering as his muscles gave in. It went deeper than most of what he'd taken before, the curve resting deliciously against his sore prostate, and his cock twitched wildly between his legs as he fucked himself all the way down onto that box with shaking knees, keening and panting. He was full now, a comfortable, arousing kind of full and sated, and he couldn't stop himself from milking more and more white fluid from his bound balls by rocking back and forth on that box, his sight darkened with lust, his lips almost bitten raw. But it still wasn't enough.

  Maybe he would have forgotten the time anyway but that was the point when his brothers were too turned on themselves to keep their clothes on any longer. When next he looked up, Elrohir had two well-oiled fingers up his brother's waiting hole while swallowing him to the root, Elladan keeping himself wide open with both hands grabbing his own thighs, his head leaned back tightly against the backrest. Still his wide-open eyes were resting only on Legolas. "Like what you see, pet? How about you try your next toy so you can join us soon? Come on, for us," he taunted him lightly when Legolas turned his gaze towards said phallus and let out a doubtful, intimidated shriek. "Just think how good it will feel when you're riding our cocks later, and you're all loose and swollen around us …"

  Legolas all but sobbed as he was robbed from that wonderful feeling inside but somehow, he made it to get up again, though his legs felt like they would give in any second. He could hardly make that one step to the next box and more fell back to the ground than lowering himself, ending up with the widely flared head of his next toy pressed between his ass cheeks, feeling just huge. The thing was rather too short than too long, but ridged and covered with small bumps, and he felt every single one of them when he had finally managed to take in that huge wooden head. His hole felt like it could never close up again, and the stretch just went on and on, the uneven surface scratching and massaging his inner walls, never giving him even a moment of rest, even when he was fully seated on the cube, shaking all over, staring down on the bump that the toy created against his flat belly, pressing outward against his weakly twitching cock. "Please … El', 'Ro … Need you …"

  "Soon, my sweet little pet," Elrohir murmured, his voice almost gone now from swallowing his brother down so deeply. Four fingers were quickly thrusting into Elladan's willing hole, squeezing more and more precum from his cock that Elrohir sucked up greedily, keeping his eyes on Legolas as he licked his lips slowly, visibly enjoying the taste, while Elladan could hardly keep his eyes open anymore, thrusting up into nothing. "See how much we both want you? Just one left. Come on, little Princeling. Show us how badly you need to be fucked …"

  "Can't …" Legolas shuddered just at the attempt of pushing himself up, every single ridge and bump dragging on his abused flesh, his cock jerking in protest, just at the prospect of being empty again when he needed to be full so badly.

  "'f course you can," Elladan muttered huskily. "You've been our sweet little slut for so long, taking all that we put in you … You can be good for us, right? Don't you want our cocks, little Princeling?"

  He wanted to. So badly. Too badly to deal with even one more torture like this. "Please …"

  "One more, pet," Elrohir encouraged him, sounding so strict and firm as if he didn't have four fingers and half a thumb up his brother's behind right, as if he wasn't pumping his own cock feverishly, spreading precum all over the covers of the sofa while he humped the cushions in vain, just as turned on as his husbands. "One more and then we'll let you come, I promise …"

  Legolas needed to come, he couldn't wait any longer, so he didn't really have a choice. Another weak scream came from his lips when he somehow managed to push himself up enough for the toy to slip from his hole. He didn't bother with standing up, just scooted forward to the last station on knees that could hardly keep him upright. He actually had to lift himself up a few more inches though, to even get his aching hole on the level of the longest toy he'd ever seen. It was divided in seven thick globes of varying diameter, the biggest almost the size of his fist, and if he hadn't been so damn horny right now, he probably wouldn't even have considered trying it. But he was pretty sure, he would come with his cage on if this went on any longer and there was little he hated more. Also his husbands were both visibly on the brink of orgasm, and Legolas would surely die if he would have to wait for both of them to get hard again before they would have him. After being stretched so thoroughly, the first four beads in went in almost in a blink, and with his knees shaking so much, he could hardly keep himself upright any longer. So the fifth, especially thick one got caught on his rim, keeping him open to the limit as he was trembling and keening, pleading and cursing his lovers ever until he managed to relax his muscles and sink deeper. Before the last bead, he almost ran out of strength, cowering low on his heels, hunched over, groaning in discomfort and lust and unfulfilled need with his guts feeling like they would burst and his cock leaking precum all over that pillow.

  "All the way, pet", Elrohir said sharply, almost leisurely thrusting his fist deep into his brother's waiting hole which caused his brother to scream out his name and writhe on his spot, his back arching, his cock spurting more half-transparent drops of white all over his belly … But he wasn't coming, still.

  Realizing and appreciating that his lovers were holding back for him, too, Legolas forced himself to give up the last resistance in his thighs and thrust himself down onto the last bead. He was so full at this point that his hole couldn't close completely, fluttering around the toy's base, his cock pumping out so much fluid it threatened to go back in the wrong channel, blocked by unforgiving metal which had Legolas cry out in uncontrolled lust and pain both. Blind with salt stinging in his eyes and with only the sounds of his own labored breathing in his ear, he only realized his husbands had come to him when there was suddenly a thick cock head pressing against his lips, filling his mouth with lust and salt, and a playful hand tugged on the chain on his piercings which almost had him black out from pure overstimulation. A flat hand pressed against the bulge of the balls in his lower belly and then wandered deeper, rubbing his angrily reddened cock through the bars of his cage until Legolas was fucking himself fruitlessly on those evil beads, rocking back and forth, whimpering around the cock thrusting deep into his throat. Please … He wasn't sure if he really made it to send out his despaired plea in their wedding bond. He couldn't even open his eyes anymore, shaken by unfulfilled lust, by heat filling his every cell, the unbearable tension in his groin.

  Maybe it hadn't even been necessary. Suddenly there were two long pairs of arms around him, gently lifting him up, pulling him off the beads one by one and lifting him on the smaller but so much nicer feeling of living, throbbing flesh instead. He thought it was Elladan's cock but he couldn't be sure. He wasn't sure he could have spelled out his own name if asked, especially when that first length was joined by a second, without any moment of discomfort for the first time. He melted bonelessly against his lovers, letting them handle him the way they wanted to, too worn out even to beg or to whimper at this point. A hot, greedy tongue was on his swollen nipples, sharp teeth grazing the sore flesh, and for a moment Legolas was certain, he would pass out now, but then there was suddenly the relieving sound of a lock opening, and that awful pressure was gone. Before he know, he was coming, coming, whole stripes of white painting his belly and legs and his lover's, too, and more delicious seed joined the mess of oil in his abused hole. It was the last he felt before his exhaustion finally got the better of him.

     ***

    When he awoke, he was comfortably wrapped up in soft blankets and bedded on soft pillows on the floor, but he was alone. When he opened his eyes in confusion, he found himself faced with his lovers back on that damn sofa, grinning at him mischievously, between them once more a row of obstacles waiting to be mounted.

  "So?" Elladan asked, grinning toothily. "Ready for round 2?"

#elladan #elrohir #legolas #lord of the rings #and all tolkien lore #dysfunctional elves ftw #lotr #The Lord of the Rings #fanfiction #nsfw

[tolkienhorror]

Prompt me if you like!

Send me (a) number(s) and (a) letter(s) - Bad Dragon edition

It’s that time of the season again! I’m in the mood for a new round of smut oneshots, so go at it. The list of kink prompts, as usual, was generated here.

Going with a wonderful idea originally by @sianascera​ again: If you want to spice things up, you can add a toy of Bad Dragon’s wonderful selection to your prompt, and I will try to include it in the ficlet.

As usual, if I can’t find inspiration for a prompt, I apologize in advance. I will let you know in this case.

********

Pairings and characters I don’t write at all or have currently no inspiration for:

- Gigolas

- Glorfindel/Ecthelion

- anything with Elrond

- Fëanor/Nerdanel

********

Aaaand here we go again.

#ask meme #ask memes

[tolkienhorror]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon Characters: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Sauron | Mairon Additional Tags: angbang, non fluffy angbang, many too dark for tumblr

Another entry in the “Sauron is not having a good time” series.

#Sauron #morgoth #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT #angbang

[tolkienhorror]

My pain, your thrill, chapter 2

Warnings: Abuse, torture, cbt, watersports.

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given by @outofangband  on my main blog. Prompt: Morgoth/Sauron, Omorashi

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"Where do you think you're going, Lieutenant?"

Mairon cursed inwardly but he knew better than to turn his back on his Lord when he was regarded with that certain icy hiss in Melkor's voice, especially in front of a whole group of orc and Balrog commanders. Oh, so one of those days it was. "I have a pressing matter in my office to tend to, milord. It will be but a minute." He tried, though he knew how small chances were of convincing his master once Melkor had got it in his head that this was another good moment to remind Mairon of his place.

Of the annoying fact that years after what had probably the biggest failure in Mairon’s career, he still deserved retaliation at every chance, even and especially in the presence of others. Nothing better to keep possibly rebellious minions in check than demonstrating every now and then that not even the highest people in Melkor's ranks were safe from his power. And that very decision being made in this fortress had to be sanctioned from the highest place – not least because last time Melkor had given Mairon free reign, they'd lost their most valuable prisoner. Melkor could hold grudges for an incredibly long time. "If there's any dealings more pressing than debating strategies to increase our hold on these lands, Lieutenant, maybe you would be better advised servicing the enemy." The temperature in the room seemed to drop with every of Melkor's venomous words until Mairon was shivering under the flimsy fabric of the ruby robe matching his hair that he'd chosen for this gathering in the weak hope of appealing to his master's occasional appreciation for beauty in his bedroom.

Another failure, obviously.

While the orcs, too, shivered and ducked their heads at the aggression suddenly roaring through the hall, more than one of the greyish, scarred faces showed a scornful grin.

A weak flame of delight flickered in the red sockets that were Gothmog's eyes from the other side of the room. From the way, the tip of the Balrog's whip wrapped around a leg of the table, Mairon could tell, the bastard was fondling the handle of his preferred weapon, probably daydreaming about Melkor becoming angry enough with Mairon to order him to serve his most hated rival tonight once more.

Mairon had no interest in a repeat performance of that kind and bowed his head in apology, quickly taking his place behind Melkor's chair again, his face blank as he forced himself to listen to every detail for the upcoming attack wave that he'd long memorized anyway. This was not about his uninterrupted presence in a wholly expendable meeting, of course. It was another test of will, of physical endurance. If he didn't have to be so careful about his lover invading his mind to monitor his thoughts, Mairon would probably allow himself to silently admit that he was getting a little tired of these games. Even coming up with the most attractive and mighty new shapes when the last one got too ruined became tedious at some point, especially when your master had no second look to spare for it.

It wasn't just that Melkor refused to forgive him. He refused to touch him.

Well, that was if Mairon didn't count choking on his lover's cock every once in a while. It felt like at least two Ages since Marin had last been fucked; and since his lover forbade him from finding at least his own pleasure alone, the growing yearning was mixing with more frustration by the day.

Even more so since Melkor had found out that it was a lot more fun, torturing Mairon when he also prohibited him from using any of the powers his folk was gifted with, merely reducing his physical and mental resilience to the embarrassing fragility of an elf.

Mairon wasn't only mildly irritated and impatient any longer. He was miserable. What had Eru been thinking, bringing something so flawed and insufficient to life? When it wasn't some deep cut in this far-too thin skin from his master's whip that Mairon had to sing together every other week, he ended up mending bones or pushing some organ back where it belonged. It was time consuming, it was most uncomfortable and most of all it was humiliating.

Yet, apparently, his lover was of the opinion, none of that had been humiliating enough yet. Mairon should have been suspicious already when Melkor had insisted on sharing a couple of cups of wine too many before this meeting. And he still handed him a new one without even looking at him every now and then, though Melkor himself was doing the talking and Mairon certainly had no need for any more wetting of his throat. Debauchery usually was not for either of them.

It was only now, hours in, that Mairon started to feel, he needed a bathroom break rather sooner than later. And how very inconvenient it was when you were not allowed to just cleanse your body out with a few hummed tones from your lips. It went from inconvenient to distracting after the next cup because Melkor still made no move to end this stupid discussion about arms deployment anytime soon. By now, Mairon's robe was starting to stretch uncomfortably around his midsection, and the muscles in his lower body cramped from the growing need to relieve himself. Only now, it started to dawn on him why his Lord hard insisted on him attending this gathering from this very particular spot, with no empty chair in sight. Distraction turned into annoyance and growing anxiety when the first few pairs of eyes turned his way repeatedly because it became more and more impossibly to stop shifting his weight and trying not to press his legs together too conspicuously. Inside his head he was cursing in all languages he knew the choice for this nothing of a piece of clothing, the white and gold color of which would give away immediately if he failed to control even such a primitive, basic function of this useless body for just a second. Mairon thought, he was doing a pretty good job, still hardly moving a muscle, but whenever he caught just a glimpse of his master's twisted mind in the shredded, cloudy bond between their souls, he could feel the lazy acid bubbling there that was Melkor's sadistic arousal, and he knew, his little, inaudible gasps and the heat of his temperature rising, radiating from his body more by the second, did not go unnoticed.

More than one of Mairon’s own subjects was openly leering at this point, some whispering and chuckling darkly as pale eyes watched the small beads of sweat from strain building on Mairon's forehead.

Gothmog was shamelessly staring at his midsection and licking his lips with his forked tongue, clearly indulging in the perverted fantasies of all the things he would be allowed to do tonight if Mairon managed to anger his Lord enough with his mortal weakness.

It was mostly the stubbornness not to give in to these wordless taunts that helped Mairon, somehow, to hold on to the last of muscle control by sheer willpower alone until the room finally started to empty.

"Am I excused, my Lord?" he got out between gritted teeth, his hands hard fists by his sides just from the effort of not grabbing his bloated midsection, or his aching cock through his clothes, to make sure he would make it the few feet down the hall, to the next free chambers, to finally empty his bladder.

"Not until I decide you learned how not to fail me," Melkor said flatly, still not turning around but busy gathering the last of parchments from the notes one of the orcs had taken during the conversation. "But if that's what you mean: Since you are obviously not even able to control a weak shape like this for half a day, you may go. Try not to make a mess on the floor."

Another day, Mairon might have returned the provocation, might have stayed just in spite, to prove to his master that he was very much capable of everything his Lord asked him to do. Only he was not, not when he was deliberately slowed and restricted in his powers. Mairon was ready to prove himself to his Lord anytime, but not if it was only for Melkor's amusement. If he wanted to be a thrall, he could as well have stayed in Valinor. "Milord." With a rather cool nod, he finally walked past his master, his steps as stiff as his posture. Not for long though, because just before he could get out of reach, a harsh slap from a huge hand suddenly landed on his behind, hard enough to bruise. Thanks to all his muscles contracting from the unexpected impact, a sinister pain stabbed his midsection. With a small scream, Mairon toppled over and reached between his legs in growing desperation to prevent the worst, but it was too late. His hand came back wet, and another hot, treacherous stream trickled down the insides of his thighs, darkening the front of his robe, leaving a sharp-smelling trace on his skin and dripping from his knee-high leather boots on the uneven, rocky ground.

"Look at that. Here I was just thinking about complimenting your excellent fashion choices, my pet, and you had to ruin it again." The same unforgiving hand grabbed his hair and pulled him back upright before he could regather his composure. The ominous lights of the Silmarils shining on his master's pale forehead stung in Mairon's eyes when Melkor pulled him close and licked the salt of sweat and tears of humiliation off his cheeks, off his lips, then biting the sensitive skin hard enough to bruise.

The other hand found the bulge under Mairon's now-ruined robe and pushed against it until Mairon cried out, fighting the hold on his braid in vain, shuddering both in disgust and relief when another small trickle of shame escaped his straining cock, the wet patch at his front growing.

He had long learned better than to beg, but his eyes were apparently a clear enough mirror of the torture of the last few hours, because Melkor's sharp-toothed grin only grew; he let go of him unexpectedly and pushed him away to get up, a clear bulge of arousal showing under his own tight pants. "It looks like we'll have to start teaching you discipline from the very start again, my pet. I will see you in my quarters tonight. I trust you will keep yourself properly hydrated until then." With that, his master left him to his shame.

*********

Mortified and wrathful as he had been, it turned out, it didn't take Mairon long to wish himself be back in that moldy conference hall full of people amused by his comparatively meager suffering.

"Is this not what you wanted, my favorite pet?," Melkor chuckled when another pained groan came from Mairon's lips at the merciless metal pull of metal rings around his cock and balls, endangering his skin that was already stretched beyond its limits, raw and chafed, more by the minute.

Even if he could have, Mairon would not have granted his lover the satisfaction of an answer. But he tried to turn his head away from the thick metal phallus stretching his mouth open anyway, in vain, when another gush of ice cold water came through the hole in the middle of the toy, flowing fast and harshly right towards the back of his throat. Which left him no choice but to swallow again though his belly was already bloated painfully from too much fluid once more, hanging low from where his master had strung him up by his wrists and ankles, swinging and gurgling lazily with every thrust of his master's enormous cock into Mairon's lube-dripping hole. Swinging, just like the huge bucket that his master had tied to his swollen genitals with heavy chains, positioned in such a way that every unwanted new stream of waste from Mairon's bound cock filled it up further. It was really only a matter of time until this easily breakable flesh would no longer be able to resist that gruesome tug, and Mairon had a vague idea, his master had no plans of patching the deadly, tasteless kind of wounds up that unpleasant moment would leave. Apparently, another body had run its course. What bothered Mairon most about spending all his energy once more on another disposable shape, was that his lover was right, of course … This was exactly what he had wanted. Finally being the center of his lover's attention again, being speared open by that magnificent cock, used and abused only for his master's pleasure … He thought he might even have been able to come just from this, in spite of the pain in his groin, if his lover had not once more made sure he couldn’t. No, the noises from his lips were not of protest. They were offense. After all these punishments Mairon had endured today – in all of these last years, really –, the least he deserved was finally being allowed to come properly again.

But his wishes, as was life in Melkor's fortress, were rarely of any concern for his lover, so he had to be satisfied with the telltale twitch of his lover's crooked cock inside of him when Melkor reached under him to feel the grotesque swellings of Mairon's overfilled stomach and bladder and press his sharp-nailed fingertips deeply into the cramping organs until Mairon screamed around his gag and relieved himself unwillingly into the bucket once more.

If it was only the pleasure of his suffering that could close the wound of hurt pride and tactical disadvantage that Mairon's mistakes a few years back had torn, he would happily sacrifice another dozen bodies. Something tore between his legs that was not supposed to come off when the relentless pull of the chain ripped harder on his flesh, and Mairon was pretty sure, that was no longer just waste in that bucket, but that was also when his lover came deep inside of him, finally, the comforting, too-hot pulse of rotten seed warming his shaking body from the inside. Mairon's trapped balls gave another helpless pulse of their last ruined orgasm before they came off with a wet gush. As he gave him to the darkness of agony washing over his mind, Mairon decided, his next shape definitely needed a bigger bladder.

#Sauron #morgoth #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT #outofangband #angbang

[tolkienhorror]

In Sauron’s Lab: File #5

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con, flaying, public humiliation, cannibalism, medical torture.

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given on my main blog. Prompt: Fingon/Sauron, Audience, Crying, Collaring, Public humiliation

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I asked for a King to replace the one you lost, Lieutenant, and all you bring me is this, Morgoth had told Sauron when the orcs had dragged Findekáno into the throne room of the enemy’s base.

You have a week to break him, the Dark Lord had told his minion, interrupting Sauron’s almost nervous sounding explanations about how very useful the son of the new High King would be in their hands for their cause, black eyes uncaring, greyish skin glowing like the destructive flash of lightning in the shine of the Silmarils wrongly crowning that terrible, hollowed face. You make him kneel for me, or you can go right back to that mountain I pried you and feed another of your bodies to the crows.

  Then they’d taken him away, and Findekáno remembered wondering if it would even take him a week at the mercy of someone who’d long given up on all empathy along with his sane mind, only to serve this monster who didn’t even bother caring about him in the presence of a prisoner, before he would wish for death. For a quick end, rather than clinging to the foolish hope that someone would come to find him here.

  No one would. No one even knew he was here and they wouldn't for several weeks, not before he was expected home from his journey to Himring to surprise his husband. By the time, they would start to wonder in Hithlum, it would be too late.

  Maitimo would probably learn last, and even he would not come. Findekáno had made him promise, made him swear on everything safe for what would have bordered on an oath that neither of them needed another one of. More than that, Maitimo would know, better than anyone, that Findekáno had been lost the moment his escort and he had been overwhelmed with the help of countless black arrows and half a dozen of fiery whips from behind. A year, he had once told Findekáno. If you could hold on to your will to live or your sanity or both for a year of being a prisoner in Angband, you were counted among the lucky ones.

  As it turned out, for Findekáno, it was two days before he started to regret that he hadn’t tried to bite through his own wrist arteries in these few minutes that he’d spent alone in a pitch-dark, moldy cell, damned to wait for whatever what was to come. And that was before anyone had even touched him.

  Findekáno had no doubt that a lot of them wanted to. Two of the boldest creatures reaching out for him had died already when another of Morgoth's highest ranking Lieutenants had dragged Findekáno from his cell to lead him towards a huge hall at the end of the dungeon wing that had already echoed with the screams of more than one of his people at that point. And dozens orcs more were very clearly waiting for their chance, lurking in the corner of that torture chamber, scarred faces distorted into sneers. The scornful whispers about all that they would love to do to their most precious prisoner given half a chance were only interrupted by the occasional brawl or by the sounds of two or more of those despicable bastards starting one of their perverted, brutal mating rituals, high on watching their master use his songs and evil instruments and cruel skill on yet another elvish prisoner.

  But they would not be allowed to approach. And the one person Sauron would not lay hand on, was Findekáno himself. The former maia might long be beyond a sane mind, but if there was one thing he was not, it was stupid. Very well aware of Findekáno's relationship to the prisoner that Findekáno had robbed him of under his very nose not too long ago, not least thanks to everything Sauron had seen in Maitimo's mind in decades of not only physical but also mental torture, Sauron must know that there was very little he could have threatened Findekáno with that he didn't expect. Spending night after night with talking Maitimo through his nightmares and memories had made sure of that. Repeat performances were very obviously not among the maia's twisted preferences. So he chose to confront Findekáno with the only thing he could truly hurt him with: the suffering of his own soldiers. Which would have been bad enough on its own, but it still wasn't the worst.

  Findekáno would gladly have borne every pain, every humiliation if he could have saved any of his warriors by that, even if it was only by the blade to their throats. The uncertainty of what would come for exiles like them afterward was better than even an hour under the clawed hands of Morgoth's lapdog. If they'd let him, Findekáno would have taken the place of every single of the elves and she-elves he had to watch scream their lives out and yet not being allowed to die in the first days of his captivity; and that, too, was something Sauron knew, of course. The worst was that being the only choice Findekáno could not make. This was the promise he had given his husband in return. That he would not give in. That he would not trade his soul for a couple of lives that were forfeit anyway, weakening his own mind by letting the cunning spirit of the maia enter it to rip it wide open and put into it whatever Sauron thought suited to bend Findekáno to his will. They could not have him as long as he did not give himself to them, they said, Maitimo said, so he would endure. For he knew, if his mind would no longer be his own, if he would go back to his people in the fashion Morgoth doubtlessly wanted him to, no longer himself but merely a vessel … A vessel like they had had to eliminate so many who had allegedly escaped their thralldom, coming to either his father's or Maitimo's doorstep for assault rather than refuge … Then the first person they would set Findekáno to kill would be his own husband. By refusing to give his enemies this chance, therefore trading the life of the person he loved most for the one of dozens – almost a hundred, in the end – other elves, Findekáno thought, maybe he had actually sold his soul already.

  A high-pitched yell, quickly cut off by the choked gurgling of blood blocking the throat it had emerged from, tore him from the useless circle of self-hate that was his mind.

  "As I was saying before you so rudely started to disassociate," Sauron sighed in that honey-laced voice of his while throwing the tongue he'd just cut from his victim's mouth in a bowl nearby, "I'm starting to think, that useless husband of yours made the wrong choice, relinquishing his claim to the throne. If all people from your side of your kin are as breakable as your unit, Your Highness, the Noldor might have been better advised living even under those kinslaying, crippled hands of your lover. Or rather, the one you haven't cut off when you were too weak to break a single shackle, that is."

  Findekáno still did not give the bastard the satisfaction of an answer. He hadn't addressed the maia a single time since they'd taken him and very carefully avoided even regarding that black-clad, delicate shape with more than a fleeting glance from the corner of his eyes. It was better, not staring into those flaming eyes for too long, Maitimo had used to tell him, for you never knew what might stare back at – into – you. Besides, he was too busy, trying not to throw up when his torturer yanked the head of that elf who was firmly chained to a narrow wooden table, to the side by his red-matted blond hair, catching the streams of blood from the victim's mouth in that same bowl before handing it to one of the orcs without even looking twice, leaving the delightedly screeching creatures to fight over their breakfast. Once more, Findekáno wished he could have told the elf – his captain – that it would be over soon, at least, but judging by the last three scenes of this kind he'd already had to watch, chained to a chair of metal himself in a way that left no inch of a room to try and free himself, that would have been a blatant lie.

  Sauron hated being distracted by too much talk when he was working but he very much enjoyed hearing his victims scream, that was all. So this was always how he started. "Let's see if we can get a little more fight out of this one, shall we? It would be a shame if you had to do without the leader of your escort once you'll promise yourself to the Lord of this world."

  The Never was on the tip of Findekáno's tongue, but it never came, and maybe not only because he refused to acknowledge the numbing poison that was Sauron's words with anything but a blank stare. It was hard, holding on to resistance when you had to watch your enemy reach for a diamond-sharp knife and put a first clean, deep cut to his newest victim's body, right around the wrist, in front of the broad shackle holding the captain's arm in place, and then start to peel off the first layers of skin inch by inch, finger by finger, more patches of flesh and skin carelessly thrown towards the drooling audience. It was a mercy, one that Findekáno shouldn't be half as thankful for as he was, that the elf's voice was soon too sore from screaming to produce more than a hoarse noises, hardly even able to drown out the mirthful whistling on Sauron's lips that was a most basic healing spell to keep blood loss and infections at bay. And it was an irony that wasn't lost to Findekáno, that he'd spent almost two years, trying to convince his husband that he had no reason to hate himself for what he'd seen and been forced to do during his own captivity, and that he could feel the same blackness of loathing wash over his own soul now; thick acid trying to bury every memory of light and love and friendship especially to these people he had to see suffer right in front of his eyes, maybe never to be revived. It was far easier to believe in innocence when you weren't the one watching silently. That heaviness of shock and any missing rest for days, that had started to take hold of his soul, was spreading, creeping over his skin in droves and leaving it numb, so that he did not realize, there were tears rolling down his cheeks, until Sauron was suddenly standing right in front of his chair and grabbed his cheek to slowly lick the salt off his face with his forked tongue, laying hands on him for the first time. The nausea grew instantly, a gagging sitting in the back of Findekáno's throat that he didn't want to let his enemy hear either, so he just jerked his head away and bit his tongue bloody to keep silent.

  "You taste sweeter than your lover, little Princeling," Sauron murmured huskily, blood-covered, spidery hands brushing through Findekáno's messy hair. "You might want to rethink your priorities. You could have a life so much better by my side than being the useless son of a lesser King. The only thing you're doing right now is hurting everyone in this room." Findekáno's ongoing silence seemed to be loud enough, because he backed away with a shrug. Ridiculously gentle for what he'd been doing to every of Findekáno's soldiers for a few days now, he tugged two of the golden ribbons from his braids and went back to his current victim. After handing his minions another bowl full of red to slurp that had been filled by that skinned hand of a barely conscious elf in the last few minutes, he wrapped the ribbon around the mess of twitching, bared muscle and pressed the captain's wrist down against the table with his elbow while reaching for a long nail and a hammer. "Now, now." An admonishing noise came from Sauron's cherry-red lips when Findekáno turned his head away, unable to stand the sight of that nail being pressed right in the middle of that ruined palm, with only the fabric of the ribbon between, the sight of a usually so proud, brave warrior arching up against his chains in fear. "Is that a way to honor your people's sacrifice for you, Your Highness? You won't even look at them while they're suffering for you?"

  A sob that he could no longer hold back came from Findekáno's lips but could never make it past the echo of the new, broken scream from one of his oldest friends when the hammer drove the nail through his flesh in a single strike.

  It didn't last long, because the elf had finally blacked out which didn't stop Sauron from repeating the same cruel process on the other arm so that his victim came to even more inhuman pain. With the second nail in place, the chains were no longer necessary to hold that marred, infection-weakened, writhing body in place as Morgoth's butcher reached for his knife once more. "Did you know, my precious Prince," he said calmly while he put the blood-smeared tip to the elf's left side, right under the ribcage, "there's at least four organs a Firstborn body can survive without? And a dozen others of which you can take at least half away before you need to sing the rest back together to function? You should know. I've fed a couple of your husband's parts to my wolves. I think they might get some more elvish dinner tonight." The knife started to cut. With a disgusting, meaty sound, a mess of red and yellow was dropped in a bucket below the table.

  But this time, it wasn't the captain's scream that filled the room the loudest but a sound Findekáno hadn't known he was about to make before it came, his resolve shattered into pieces.

  "What was that?" Now it was Sauron, not even looking up but reaching for needle and thread instead to close the crude cut he'd just made before his victim could bleed out on him. "Anything you want, my precious Princeling? All you have to do is ask, you know."

  "Please." This time, the word came quietly, but clear and unmistakable. Apparently, after all this time that Findekáno had thought he would be the rock in their relationship, had to be, because Maitimo didn't have the strength anymore, it was time to admit, that his husband had been the stronger one between them from the start. Perhaps, when it came to it, if Findekáno would only ever leave this fortress again an enemy of his own people, no longer the master of his own mind and thoughts and will, his husband would even be strong enough to kill him before Findekáno could beat him to it. "Stop. If it is me you want, release my people."

  "Is that an order, Your Highness?" Wholly unimpressed, Sauron moved to his victim's other side and caressed the quickly, panicked heaving chest with just the tip of his knife, as if trying to make out the best spot to continue his gruesome work. "I do not need more food for my troops and beasts. I need a servant loyal to me and my master. Is that what you want, Prince of the Noldor? To serve the Dark Lord?"

  "Yes." It became easier, Findekáno found dully, once you had given in to your fate. He did not even shy away from that triumphing, flickering stare of his enemy any longer. Maybe it would hurt less if he let himself fall for it quickly.

  "Yes, what?" His hand wandering lower, Sauron thrust his knife deeply into his victim's loins, spearing a kidney, impatiently wiping blood of his cheek, both from the new horrible wound and from the captain's mangled hand, from its useless, mindless attempt of freeing itself from the nail crucifying it.

  "Yes. Master." Findekáno never lowered his head. There was no use, trying to look away now.

  "Better. We're getting there." Sauron just left his tool right where it was, impaling his victim's body in a third place, and went to the back of a room to open a silver box with the symbol of his eye on it that had been waiting there from the first hour on. A flash of gold and obsidian shone in the bright candle light as he slowly approached Findekáno, dangling from a lazy finger a broad collar with sharply carved tips at the top and the bottom. In the hand of a fire maia, the horrible adornment quickly started to heat, a dangerous orange glow matching the hair of Findekáno's torturer, pulsating right in front of his eyes when Sauron stopped by his chair and grabbed his chin, forcing him to surrender to that black stare again. "Ask for it, my sweet little pet, then I might think about allowing your incompetent captain over there to die."

  The last of tears dried on Findekáno's skin as he left a part of him behind that he knew would not return, no matter how his life would look from now on and for how long. I'm sorry, Russo. "Please, Master, put your collar on me. Let me serve you."

  "So easy." With a lazy snap of fingers, the chains holding Findekáno clicked open, allowing his knees to give out under him all by themselves when an ice-cold hand was wrapped around his braids, shoving him off the chair.

  He thought, he could fight, for a moment. But he'd also thought that when they had first brought him into this room, and the rest of that day, he'd spent watching fifty orcs raping one of his best friends to death, so that spark died down as quickly as it had come. It had been too late to fight the moment he'd let himself be foolishly raided from behind instead of securing the area well enough.

  "Your father should thank me that I'm taking the weakling that calls himself his firstborn from him," his enemy chuckled, a clear hint of arousal mixing into the purr of triumph in his voice as Findekáno winced and gasped for air, in vain, as the collar was closed around his neck. Melted into one by a single hummed tone, the heated metal was scorching his skin, the first exhausted attempts of breathing, of swallowing leaving marks and cuts on him. "This does look a lot prettier on you though than on your lover, my new favorite pet. Why don't you show me how you like to please him?" Under the approving cheers and leering of the orcs, laces were opened without haste. Thick, crooked hardness brushed Findekáno's tight lips, with ridges and barbs adorning the misshaped appendix that he knew he would soon feel somewhere entirely else and be forced to pretend and love it. If nothing else, at least Sauron was predictable.

  But Findekáno didn't move, not yet, ignoring that hand in his braids that was grabbing him harsher by the second. His eyes wandered to the table in the middle of the room that was dripping blood on the ground in a slowly growing pool.

  The sounds of searing agony from there still hadn't fallen silent.

  Sharp fingernails scratched over his cheek, prying his mouth open with ease, the first brutal bump of hardened flesh against the back of his throat cutting off any protest before it could come. "If you worry about him so much, I suggest, you hurry to please your master, pet. It's only up to you how much more your people will have to take before I let them go."

It was another lie, of course, but one, Findekáno thought, he could live with. None of his soldiers would leave this fortress alive. If he could keep Sauron's filthy paws off of them for the rest of what was their ruined life, he would, at least, have done something right in the mess that his life had become. Findekáno had given up.

#Sauron #fingon #sauron's lab #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

[tolkienhorror]

In Sauron’s Lab: File #4

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con, oviposition, flaying, public humiliation, cannibalism of sort, medical torture.

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given on my main blog. Prompt: Celebrimbor/Sauron, Public humiliation & Oviposition Also kudos to @sianascera for working in her excellent pirate fic with certain Dark Lord & oviposition themes first that play a role in this oneshot ...

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Something was different tonight. 

Celebrimbor shifted uneasily on the soft fur protecting his scar-littered skin from the sharp-edged surface of the anvil he’d been forced to bend over earlier. His wrists and ankles were throbbing only from his weak attempts of freeing himself, not from the suspiciously soft material they’d used to tie his arms and legs to the heavy construction. No new scratches and infections from barbed wire then, or the chance for another of these useless attempts to rip his arteries open on his bonds badly enough that not even Sauron’s extensive medical knowledge and darkest healing songs would be able to bring him back.

Still, none of that was particularly new; it wasn’t even the first time Sauron had ordered his henchmen to put his favorite pet on display like this in his throne room, for everyone to see his naked, marred shape right next to the Lord’s chair. Ready to be abused by whoever and whatever Sauron deemed proper at any given time. It was Sauron who was different. Sauron usually didn’t put his hands on him when they were not alone. It was a matter of privacy, he sometimes cooed into Celebrimbor’s split ear, silken voice full of almost-sincere sounding care and desire, before he was fucking Celebrimbor in some corner of his bedroom with that barb-studded, crooked cock of his.

A mockery of the tender nights they’d shared when Sauron had had this other name and shape that Celebrimbor had bonded himself to. Of a time when he’d still believed that the foundation of this world was trust and that it was worth fighting for. Of course, Celebrimbor was still not talking, and by now, he’d half and half expected his former lover to have understood that he never would, that Sauron was only wasting both their time.

No such luck, apparently. And apparently, tonight, Sauron wasn’t feeling the need for any privacy either. Tonight, he had not ordered a couple of orcs to whip and rape his favorite pet for his entertainment, or one of his trolls - only one of those, always, because after those incidents, he always needed half a week to sing Celebrimbor’s insides back in place. He wasn’t even using Celebrimbor’s immobilized body as his personal pincushion, as some perverted kind of plush toy to cut and pinch and scrape with the diamond-sharp tip of one metal gloved finger, casually, while he was going about his daily business. Tonight, his torturer had thought of something else to pass the time while being immersed in some heated discussion with one of his lieutenants about the next attack on where Sauron thought - rightly so - a larger elvish population to be hiding from the deadly terror of his troops. He made very sure to lay out in detail what he expected his henchmen to do to these poor souls that Celebrimbor had once used to lead and protect, if the orcs should really manage to invade their hideout. But for once, the Dark Lord wasn’t in full armor, the poisoned edges and spikes of which had ripped and punched more than one hole in Celebrimbor’s body in the past when his former lover had been especially impatient to fuck his frustration about Celebrimbor’s defiance into him. Almost plain looking, without his crown and wearing only a crystal-studded, black robe, his impossibly long legs crossed, covered by thigh-high orange boots, his torturer had one arm loosely hanging from the throne’s armrest, sharp-nailed fingertips preparing his favorite toy for whatever he had planned for him tonight. His hand never stopped moving for even a second while was instructing the very interested looking soldier who could hardly take his bulging eyes of Celebrimbor’s degraded shape, drool dripping from his grey lips. Sauron took his sweet time, laying out how many elves he wanted to be taken back to this fortress, to conduct his inhuman experiments on them. In a place that had once used to be Celebrimbor’s own home but had long become unrecognizable, with everything that had used to be crystal and silver turned into tar and smoke. A couple of those poor refugees would be left behind, dying bodies speared on the orcs’ lances for everyone to see who would pass by that the reign of Sauron was everywhere and there was no place to hide.

Celebrimbor found, with little surprise, that he had run out of emotional strength to dread these words. He couldn’t help his people, he couldn’t even help himself. All that was left for him to do was keep the one last secret that prevented his devilish husband from ruling all of this cursed world. And to try to die as quickly as possible before Sauron might find a way to beat it out of him after all.

The irony wasn’t lost to Celebrimbor that his torturer had chosen this very meeting, in which he once more let him know that there was nothing that Celebrimbor loved and treasured that Sauron wouldn’t rip to pieces, to try this very special kind of torture on him. One he hadn’t even used in the very beginning when he’d still been of the delusional hope, he could sway Celebrimbor’s mind, make him serve him like these pitiful creatures disfigured in body and mind so happily did. It was worse than anything else Sauron could have come up with.

The well-oiled fingers buried deep in Celebrimbor’s backside crooked gently, aiming straight for his oversensitive prostate until another hardly suppressed moan came from Celebrimbor’s lips, stretched too far around the metal gag keeping his mouth ready for his torturer’s cock whenever Sauron had use for it. He struggled against his bonds again, hardly able to lift his upper body more than an inch or two off the surface. There wasn’t a lot of strength in his body left since Sauron had starved him down to half his former shape and had fed what most of what had been left of his muscles to his wolves right in front of Celebrimbor’s eyes. The new-grown, deformed patchwork that was his skin burned and itched from more salt covering his body by the second as the heat started to rise in his groin despite all his best efforts to ignore the skillful stimulation.

His hollowed cheeks blushing in shame, he could see the lieutenant kneeling in front of the throne grinning at the reluctant sounds of arousal from his lips, the brawny creature licking its lips in hunger. From the corner of his eyes, he also didn’t miss how the guards by the door laughed scornfully and rubbed themselves through the leather pants of their uniforms, surely hoping they would get to use Sauron’s favorite pet once the Master was done with it for the day until his body wasn’t even twitching enough for them anymore to satisfy.

That was usually how things went when they dragged him to this throne room by the collar sewn into his throat, but Sauron, for some reason, seemed to want to make it a point today, showing his henchmen from up close how he liked to treat his favorite prisoner. With the meeting finally over, he waved the lieutenant away to stand with the others, never taking his slowly thrusting fingers out of Celebrimbor’s stretched hole, instead pushed one more into him, eliciting a new moan from Celebrimbor’s lips.

Four slender, slowly circling and scissoring digits it was now that were working him open, drumming his prostate every now and then, a sharp spark burning in his groin every time those pointy nails tapped the oversensitive spot. And there was nothing Celebrimbor could do to stop his slimmed down hips from thrusting back towards that intrusion instinctively. From chasing that blissful nothingness spreading in his soul that made him forget, at least for a few minutes, all he’d lost and all they’d done to him, even the black creatures leering and cheering at his newest humiliation in the corner. He wondered, as his chest was heaving with ragged breaths, if Sauron would fuck him right here, in front of his people, the last privacy concerns obviously traded for the foolish hope that this, finally, would be the way he could convince Celebrimbor to betray everything he lived for. Maybe he would take his Annatar shape for him again, Celebrimbor thought dully as he let himself fall into sick desire, no longer caring who watched the once-honorable elvish Lord of this land whoring himself out for the Dark Lord. That elf was long dead, his life’s work nothing but a vague memory of better times. There was no use fighting what was happening anyway. It would be nice, maybe, he thought, not even trying to fight the tears rolling down his cheeks when the dreaded pressure inside lessened, only for Sauron to thrust his hole fist past his almost unresisting hole next. A shadow of better days it would be, seeing Annatar’s slender, well-formed shape at least from the corner of his eyes when Sauron would take him, feel his beautiful, thick length slowly slipping inside of him instead of a beastly weapon ripping his insides. Losing himself to the illusion for a while that they were back in their marital chambers, that the future with this heavenly creature by his side was bright … His untouched cock was leaking white on the dark grey, polished dreariness that was the ground, both from the stupid daydream and that small fist slipping deeper into him, knuckles digging into his prostate, drawing deep groans from his lips. A drop of red joined the white mess, falling from his chapped lips from a choked scream of protest at being breached even deeper, far deeper than it should be possible, by something too big for this use, pulling and shoving at the sensitive flesh of his insides until he wondered if Sauron was trying to reach for his very heart to rip it out of him. Celebrimbor hated how relieved the sob from his bleeding lips sounded when his torturer finally pulled back, as if he didn’t know exactly that the bastard was far from being done with him. His too quick breathing hurt in his chest. He wondered if he could come up with enough strength to hyperventilate himself into a few seconds of unconsciousness, if it would be worth the punishment, getting his forcibly aroused body to calm down and regain at least a shred of his dignity ...

Sauron didn’t give him time for such useless musings. Suddenly, he was standing right in front of him, shielding Celebrimbor’s trembling body from the eyes of his other slaves at least for a moment, green cat-eyes glistening with deeply rooted sadism as he held out to Celebrimbor what he had brought for him today to play with. “Good news, my love,” he purred, pointed teeth scraping a fine line of red into his full lower lip, whitish glowing skin flushing with lust at the sight of Celebrimbor’s wide, terrified eyes. “You are going to be a father.” He bent down low enough to slip his forked tongue into Celebrimbor’s mouth, past the metal bars spreading it open, feeding to him the acid tasting blood of his most preferred shape until Celebrimbor gagged and tried to tear away from the iron, ice-cold grip on his chin.

Which only made it worse, because now he had the black and grey colored, egg-shaped device right in front of his eyes that his torturer held, easily bigger than a man’s fist on its widest point. Heat was radiating from it, and under the half transparent shell, Celebrimbor could see a strange light glowing, slowly moving like the thick very substance of evil itself.

He must have made a sound he couldn’t remember behind his gag, because Sauron chuckled and patted his head like one would calm down a nervous horse. “Oh, you’re going to like it, Tyelpe.” He ignored Celebrimbor’s faint sob at this name he’d come to hate so much just like his victim’s futile pulling on the unforgiving ropes. “I created this especially for you. And I made it big and heavy, like an Eagle’s egg, since I know how much you like to be stretched and filled, my love. I figure it will make walking hard for a few months, but it’s not like you have many places to go, is it?” With an almost hysterical chuckle, he petted Celebrimbor’s head again and then buried his hand in what was left of his hair, forcing his head up so that Celebrimbor had to stare at this disgusting thing again. Sauron licked the hot tears from his cheeks with a sigh of delight, holding the egg to his narrow chest almost lovingly careful. “Can you feel it, my love? It’s almost alive ... It’s waiting … It only needs to be fertilized. You see, I have no idea what this is going to be when it hatches. I suppose it will be a friendly, if you beg me nicely enough to bring it to life myself. It could be ours. Wouldn’t that be sweet, my dear? You always said, you wanted us to have children one day …”

That unhinged, too high-pitched laugh again, that had Celebrimbor’s stomach hurl and sent shivers down the parts of his skin that were still able to produce them. His eyes were full of tears, of hate, of despaired pleas when he shook his head against the unrelenting grip on his hair, trying to form words with his dry tongue behind his gag that wouldn’t come.

“No? You might want to think about that, my love.” Sauron’s eyes glowed brighter in the weak light of the torches, well-known anger smoldering in his animalistic pupils, an impatience he was no longer able to hide. “Because if it’s not supposed to be me, I will leave it to these fine soldiers back there to fuck you full of their seed. Morgoth knows what then will come out of that egg once it’s ripe. Are you sure you want to risk that? I imagine it might not feel too nice when it starts feeding its way out of you …” Almost soothingly, he wiped the helpless tears off Celebrimbor’s cheeks and squeezed his unprotected throat close with a harsh grip before the violent gagging there could fill his mouth with bile. “Or …” Sauron leaned close enough to his ear to lick and suck on the torn flesh, lowering his voice to an almost inaudible whisper as if no one was supposed to learn about the favorite lie he sometimes still tried to make his victim believe. “Or you could just tell me what I want to know, and we can end all this right here. I will make you my equal, my commander, and we can rule this world together. Make it in our image. Bring peace and order to everyone. Isn’t that what we used to dream about, my sweet Tyelpe? Just say the words and you’ll be free …”

Celebrimbor didn’t deem it necessary to even try and give any kind of answer save for the blank stare he regarded his former lover with when Sauron withdrew with one thin eyebrow expectantly raised.

“Didn’t think so. Guess we’re going to find out then what kind of offspring an elf and an orc breed, won’t we?” With an exasperated sigh, Sauron straightened up again and sat back down on his throne as if nothing had happened. But the tell-tale wet sound of something smooth and heavy rolling into that bowl of oil he’d been keeping there all evening, had Celebrimbor’s blood run cold. Hot, slightly uneven breath hit the oversensitive, swollen mess that was his hole. The sharp scrape of teeth had him cry out, a thin trail of blood running down the back of his thigh, giving him a first taste of what was in store for him. “Such a beautiful, willing ass,” Sauron sighed, it sounded almost honestly disappointed. “A shame, really, you’re begging me so loudly to ruin it again and again. But who knows? Maybe you’ll change your mind once you can feel your precious baby start moving inside of you, tearing in your flesh. You know, I’m always very willing to hear you beg and plead, my love.”

But Celebrimbor remained silent. It didn’t last long.

*

It was only hours later that he saw his torturer again, a faint vision of white and black moving gracefully through the cell they’d taken him back to after he’d passed out. A light-hearted, bright whistle was on his torturer’s lips as he lay a few of his usual instruments and jars with potions out on a table. Seeing Celebrimbor’s eyelids flutter weekly, and the feeble twitching of his arms in the leather manacles that strapped him down to the broad metal table where he had been suffering for months now, Sauron stepped close to him with a toothy smile. Spider-like fingers stroked his messy hair, down his sore throat, to his very weakling heaving chest and finally lower, to the massive bulge rounding his stomach.

Celebrimbor wailed softly and twitched, new bile burning his tongue when his insides cramped around the intruder stretching them to their limits instinctively and the faint thud of a strong heart vibrated against his flesh. His abused, torn hole clenched around nothing, torrents of greyish, reeking cum dripping from it as his drained body tried in vain to get rid of something that didn’t belong there, but the egg was sitting far too deep buried inside of him for that. This thing wasn’t going anywhere unless his torture would allow it.

And the fascinated shine in his lover’s eyes as he slowly started to trace Celebrimbor’s swollen belly and reached for the first of his instruments, let him know quite clearly, this wasn’t happening anytime soon, even if he should have found in his broken soul enough strength to betray himself and everyone he loved, to beg for this unbearable ordeal to end.

He wondered, faintly, with a mind that was no longer entirely bound to the stability of sanity, if the next months of his pregnancy would finally answer the question who, between Sauron and him, was the more stubborn one.

#Sauron #celebrimbor #silvergifting #silverfisting #sauron's lab #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

[tolkienhorror]

Something a little more fluffy from yours, truly, for once, with a good deal of kink involved though. The pairing is Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir, accordingly, if sibling incest is not your thing, this is not for you.

#lord of the rings #fanfiction #the lord of the rings #lotr #legolas #elladan #elrohir #cw incest

[tolkienhorror]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon Characters: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Sauron | Mairon Additional Tags: angbang, non fluffy angbang, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Serious Injuries, Permanent Injury, Torture, Blood and Torture, Medical Torture, Speculum, Spider Gag, Wax Play, Oral Sex, Urethral Play, Bladder Control, Trauma, Medical Trauma, Medical Procedures, Horror, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Body Modification, Suspension, Restraints, Bad BDSM Etiquette, sauron is not having a good time, sauron gets to hang around, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, damn it's satisfying hurting sauron Summary:

Melkor is not happy with Sauron. He thinks, Sauron could use a makeover.

Happy Christmas to all who celebrate it! Here, have some wax play Sauron whump to match the occasion!

#the silmarillion #silmarillion #angbang #Sauron #melkor #mairon #morgoth

[tolkienhorror]

OK so Tolkien and horror are um, my two favorite things in the universe and that's basically what my blog is so seeing your account just makes me so so so happy thank you for it!!-@outofangband

<3 Thank you so much for your message! I follow your blog as well, and it is very lovely. I’ve been a LOTR/Silmarillion fan and a horror movie fan for many long years and also love American Horror Story (Cody Fern is modern day!Sauron and I will hear nothing about it), and I felt like combining these things. Keep up the great work, too!

#toadsandfoxes #blog #out of the lab

[tolkienhorror]

‘Tis my favorite time of the year, so. Ask me horror stuff about our favorite dysfunctional elves and Dark Lords!

#The Silmarillion #silmarillion #Sauron #mairon #Melkor #morgoth #maedhros #maitimo #celebrimbor #horror blog

[tolkienhorror]

Just in time for Halloween, here have a new chapter of Sauron the Mad Scientist. This time featuring his wolf-shape and Maitimo not having a good time. Again.

#sauron #mairon #maitimo #maedhros #fanfiction #sauron's lab

[tolkienhorror]

In Sauron’s Lab: File #2

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s favorite torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con.

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“Choose,” Sauron demands coldly, and Maitimo knows better than to disobey.

He’s tried a couple of times, in the beginning, when he was still in possession of his dignity, his clothes, his anger and spite, his hair. It never ended well.

The first time he said no when Sauron ordered him to play along in one of the dark maia’s sick experiments, the enemy crushed his throat by standing on it

seeing as you don’t know how to speak, you don’t need your vocal cords, do you

until Maitimo choked on his own blood and passed out; his voice still doesn’t sound the same. The second time, a considerable length of a Balrog’s whip was shoved up his unprepared behind

if you can’t figure out how to kneel properly, we’ll have to keep you from sitting down, won’t we

and then yanked back out with such force that a lot of charred, stretched flesh came with it. Sauron needed a week to put all of his intestines back where they belong, and Maitimo has been awake for most of the procedure.

The third time when he said no, he had to watch another Balrog spear the restrained body of an elf that Maitimo had known since birth, on the enormous, glowing length of his inhuman cock, inch by painstaking inch, until the screeching screams of agony had turned to bloody gargles.

what kind of leader are you who won’t even suffer to protect his own people

The beast then proceeded to fuck the dying body for another 20 minutes straight, right before Maitimo’s eyes before light of life finally left that poor soldier.

These days, Maitimo knows better than to disobey Sauron.

So he points, dully - with his chin as that is the only part he can move at least half an inch right now - to the middle one of the three spacious jars waiting on the table next to his usual spot on Sauron’s examination stretcher, though he really couldn’t care less. The plain metal vessels all look the same, and none of them will contain anything good.

The movement has his throat tenses up, and Maitimo tries his best not to gag around the thick tube threaded through his ring gag and shoved deeply in his mouth, just far enough to make sure everything coming through it will make it down to his stomach, not far enough to spare him the taste of whatever his tormentor will choose to fill him up with this time.

Maitimo hasn’t eaten in more than two weeks and he should probably be grateful that he will be at least rid of the clenching knot of emptiness that his stomach has become for a few minutes. But he knows Sauron well enough to know, the price for that little moment of comfort will be far too high.

“A smart choice, pet. You are starting to learn.”

Sauron absently pats his belly, then gives a firmer smack to the slightly bulging skin below, and Maitimo groans when his inner muscles clench around the other, much thicker tube deeply lodged in his rectum.

It doesn’t hurt, not like the variety of spiked phalluses and cocks he’s been raped with since being taken prisoner. But it sits far enough inside of him to ensure that whatever Sauron will choose to empty into that funnel at the end of that second tube, will go deeply into his body and not come out anytime soon.

Maitimo could live with that too, he supposes; after almost a year in the misery that is his life now, he’s no stranger to the humiliation of enemas anymore. And as painful as burns from too hot liquid are, as revolting as it is when one of his abusers chooses to fill his abused ass with all the piss they have in them that day, sometimes until Maitimo can taste it on his tongue ... That kind of traces usually go away and heal quickly.

It’s the sound he’s afraid of tonight. Almost as thick as a finger, stretching his limp cock open to its limits, and Sauron hasn’t bothered to lube up that third hollow tube before thrusting it all the way in until it’s bottomed out in Maitimo’s dehydrated bladder. His urethra throbs and stings, and he knows he’s bleeding but that’s not what worries him. Bleedings stop.

It’s the additional sheer helplessness of knowing he’s about to be filled up from several sides at once, and that there’s nothing he can do to control or stop it, that has him shivering in cold sweat and yank in vain on the straps and shackles that tie him down on the table. That keep his scraggy legs up and spread widely, all of his most sensitive parts on obscene, vulnerable display for his captor’s too hot, dainty hand.

Though Maitimo’s struggling is achieving nothing but more sore muscles and a little quiet rattling, of course, Sauron feigns exhausted disappointment. “Now, now, don’t ruin that good impression with fidgeting, pet. You’ve been doing so nicely the last few weeks. You’re on a good way to become my favorite test subject. But you really ...“

The maia’s lithe, tall shape bends down over Maitimo’s bare crotch, the unnatural white of his skin that shows under the low, pointed cut of his black tunic, flushing with just the hint of pulsating red as he stretches out his long forked tongue. With a purr, he licks over the sturdy shining metal protruding from Maitimo’s tortured orifices.

“... need to learn how to keep still.”

Sauron presses down on Maitimo ‘s lower body again, intentionally and harder this time, while Maitimo thrashes against his bonds once more, wailing into his gag when the metal inside his ass and cock heats up within seconds, blistering highly sensitive tissue, eating away at muscle that won’t be working as it should for days. Weeks maybe, depending on when Sauron decides to sing his body back together this time.

“Oh, pet. What did I just say? Looks like I have chosen a good time to help you work on your discipline.”

Sauron feigns another bored sigh, betrayed by the considerable bulge under his tight pants, when he reaches for the pot that Maitimo has chosen earlier. With the handle fastened to one of the many hooks in the frame of this hated, dreadful table that Maitimo has spent most of his last months on, Sauron angles the vessel right above the first of those three funnels that promise another few hours of greater pain than Maitimo has ever known it in his whole life.

“Now be a good little pet and have your dinner. I wouldn’t want to have to punish you for choking on your own tongue again.”

Maitimo does wince and retch when the first taste of filth and salt and ash hits his tongue, because if the smell hadn’t given it away yet, now he knows exactly what this is. He’s been force-fed by one of the cocks violating him frequently too often not to. But this will go down his throat whether he actively helps it or not, so it won’t make a difference. And he’s really not interested in snorting Balrog piss from his nose, so he obeys, because what else is there to do?

An unpleasant but still a lot more bearable warmth than the one before spreads in his stomach, and for a moment he thinks, he can do this, he will be okay.

Then Sauron places the second of the bowls over the funnel hanging over his reddened, swollen hole, and Maitimo’s guts are being set on fire. He’s not exactly sure what it is or how he even still makes it to scream between swallowing the too quickly, relentlessly dripping liquid.

But somehow, some way, he still can take it, he still can stay awake and lucid, and that’s all that counts. Because when he blacks out, Sauron always gets angry enough to make his ordeal even worse, and Maitimo doesn’t think it actually can be right now.

That is before Sauron opens the lid of the last vessel and the smell of vinegar hits Maitimo’s senses.

His eyes go wide enough to almost pop from their sockets. Somehow, without ever wanting it, he croaks out a plea between the metal confinements stretching his jaw painfully open, and then he almost does choke because he forgets to swallow and he can talk no more.

Not that it matters. Sauron doesn’t even comment on his little moment of verbal weakness. With the hand not busy hanging up the third bowl, he’s languidly, almost disinterestedly rubbing his raging erection through the leather fabric of his clothes while he sets the third and last vessel and tips it into position.

A sensation of liquid lava travels through the already too-hot metal in Maitimo’s cock, hitting his insides like that hot-red poker that Sauron raped him once with in the very beginning, when he dared to say no to riding his cock in front of his fellow prisoners. He screams and screams, spluttering snot and bile and piss through mouth and nose, wheezing and coughing between the desperate, unintelligible pleas for mercy from his throat that he knows he will not be granted. Blood is seeping from the wounds of his restraints on his wrists and ankles, his hips and shoulders. He can hear the bones in his neck crack dangerously from his useless strain against the straps on his jaw and forehead tying his head down, and he knows, he won’t be able to turn his head for weeks to come once this is over.

Which it won’t be before he’s ripped open and poisoned from the inside out by body fluids and acid whatever other shit he’s being fed; he doesn’t need to hear Sauron’s next words to know.

Visibly satisfied with his work, Sauron gives him another absent pat on his stomach that is slowly but certainly bulging with too much liquid pouring into him from three sides.

“Much better. Now let’s see how much we can put into you before you start tearing, shall we? It’s really for your own good, pet. We don’t want a mess like last time when you next provide some well-deserved entertainment for our hard-working soldiers. Learn how to be grateful how well I’m looking out for my favorite subjects, and you can make your life in these halls so much easier.”

He bends over Maitimo’s head to press a humiliating kiss to the top of his sweat-drenched head before walking back to his desk to pick up his usual parchment roles for his notes on their little experiment, the half-hard erection between his legs already forgotten. He seldom wastes time fucking Maitimo himself these days. There’s so much more entertaining techniques for him to use on that broken shell of an elf that was once a High King.

Maitimo is left alone hurting, bleeding, desperate and losing another fragment of his soul to ever-lasting hopelessness.

#Sauron #mairon #maedhros #sauron's lab #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

[tolkienhorror]

In Sauron’s Lab: File #1

A drabble headcanon about one of Sauron’s favorite torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-consensual body modification, non-con.

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Mairon has always had a profound love for piercings.

Not necessarily on himself, obviously, though he does like to wear a ring or two when his Lord is in the rare mood for physical pleasure. But sex has always been means to an end and a shallow adrenaline rush, rather than the need that Melkor’s limiting physical form demands every now and then. So Mairon only bothers altering his own current shape with the desired adornments when spending the night in his Master’s chambers.

But what he does enjoy is decorating his slaves.

Piercings are a wonderfully versatile tool for pleasure and torture alike, the easy and clean alternative to every other form of body art. Sure, stitches work too if they don't stay in long enough for the flesh to mend in the wrong places. To shut an insolent new prisoner up for a while, or to sew a female-identifying slave shut for protection, punishment or both, needle and thread will do just fine.

Mairon is, of course, not above branding and inking his slaves if he wants to permanently mark them as his or as the livestock, tool or sport they are. On an elf, a finely-shaped branding iron to the right place does have its appeal. Especially since the constantly renewing skin of a Firstborn demands a repeat performance of that ritual every few years, including all that entertaining squealing and twitching of another bound and naked shape under Mairon’s hands.

But piercings? Far more perfect for the daily, universal use on elves. With that kind of healing factor? Take them out, and two days later the prisoner won't even have those annoying tiny holes and infections to show that men will carry for years afterwards.

Besides, Mairon doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of those looks of anger and terror during the procedure itself. In his field, it is fairly practical, having the power to easily sing metal into shape, sealing off any piece of metal he chooses to put in a subject’s body, far more effectively than any barbell or screw could. It’s really the best way to make sure prisoners can't rip their pretty new jewelry out themselves, unlike they want to shred the body part in question to pieces.

Not for a lack of trying, of course; some of his less wise and reasonable subjects are stubborn enough to mutilate themselves when they first come here. Usually, they don’t try again once Mairon has patiently reinserted the adornment in question, this time keeping it searing hot though.

Usually, it’s fairly easy to tell for his Lord and his inferiors who Mairon’s current favorite pets are. It’s those, he’ll always decorate with exceptionally beautiful and costly piercings, usually crafted by himself and adorned with crystals that will chafe the subject’s skin anew every day.

Most of such jewels ever crafted for one single pet have gone to Maitimo, of course. Mairon has stopped to count after the first few dozen, but he sure never gets tired finding a new perfect spot to puncture. There’s artful patterns and carefully chosen ladders of metal decorating his favorite pet’s pale, freckled skin all over by now. Sometimes, Mairon takes a night just to enjoy the sight. Then he shackles his prisoner in the middle of his living room, spearing him on some long, thick, barbed plug just to keep him writhing and whining and then continues to watch his best piece of work for hours.

Yes, he’s done a good job with Maitimo indeed, in almost every regard. He’s not done completely breaking him yet, and there’s a few more physical alterations he wants to see done when he’s got a few weeks of time to spare next. But his cute little ex-King is sure a sight to behold. When Maitimo is dancing on tiptoes like this, trying in vain to escape the assault of the cruel device in his battered backside, the soft clanging of countless studs and rings in his flesh is pure music.

It’s always these nights when Mairon can’t resist putting another piece of metal more into his favorite prisoner. He mostly ends up suspending Maitimo by the large rings in his back and thighs since his pet is most likely to keep beautifully still for him then, before he gets to work. Maitimo doesn't get to choose the spot of his new adornment, of course, but if he's been behaving well enough for a while, sometimes, he gets to choose the shape.

Which is a hard pick as Mairon knows very well. Studs are more likely to get ripped out if they get stuck somewhere, and easier to grab by superiors and hostile fellow prisoners under clothing. But rings are obviously always very tempting for Mairon to use for chains and sewing matters.

Today, it’s the hefty but not too long stud that the bony, trembling chin finally nods to when Mairon holds out his hand to his prisoner questioningly, after safely securing him from the ceiling. Seeing as Mairon has chosen to pierce the sensitive underside of that pretty long cock last time and has been thoroughly enjoying himself since then, fastening a leash to said golden ring with his name on it, or riding that thick piece of flesh for hours, whenever he wanted to see his pet especially mortified, he probably can’t blame him.

Sweet, foolish darling Maitimo sometimes still seems to think, his ordeal can’t get any worse.

He realizes his mistake when Mairon swaps the sensitive little spot between his ever-battered balls and his swollen hole down with alcohol, a tuneless, mirthful tune on his lips, and thrashes in his bonds for a moment, just to sag back down with a groan at the pain from the flesh around his shoulder blades and deep in his thighs stretched to its limit.

Mairon pats his bare ass absently before starting to insert the new piece. He notices with little surprise that Maitimo’s broken screams still make him hard in moments of deep intimacy like this. Maybe he’ll allow him to suck him off when they’re done here, just for pressure relief.

Right now, he’s being far more interested in the look of that beautiful silver glistening between his pet’s twitching cheeks. It is a little masterpiece, truly. The tiny rubies keeping the stud in place, Mairon has cut into the eight-pointed star of his pet’s former house. They’re cruelly digging into his skin, making sure he’ll never sit comfortably again as long as he’s wearing this. The gems have the color of his pet’s hair which is just the perfect finishing touch. Maybe Mairon should make sure, no one else will fuck his little favorite project for a few months to come, at least not that fine piece of ass. This one, he wants to heal properly.

He doesn’t bother removing the ring gag when he walks around to his pet’s widely opened mouth, impatient hand fumbling with the laces of his leather pants. Wrapping his hand around the matted, fiery braids, he thrusts deeply into the scarred throat and swings his prisoner’s bound body gently back and forth, letting his considerably lessened body weight and the momentum of the suspension do the work while Maitimo chokes and screams around his cock.

Suspension piercings. So useful.

After the fairly satisfying height, Mairon decides to leave his pet alone for a few days where it hangs. Maitimo can still be a stubborn little bastard even after all this time; it’s half his charm, really. Mairon doesn’t want clumsy fingertips messing with his newest creation.

Maitimo, after all, has become his most ambitious piece of art.

#sauron #mairon #maedhros #headcanon #headcanons #sauron's lab #angbang #fanfiction #drabble #dead dove do not eat

[tolkienhorror]

Coming from yours, truly, a very dark take on Silvergifting.

Heed the warnings.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon Characters: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Annatar (Tolkien), Sauron | Mairon Additional Tags: Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Snuff, Blood and Injury, Serious Injuries, Permanent Injury, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Character Death, underage murder (referenced), Torture, Psychological Torture, Blood and Torture, Medical Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, Cannibalism, Sort-of, Skinning, flaying, Cutting, Organ Removal, Anal Gaping, Impalement, Gutting, Eye Gouging, Dismemberment, Blood and Violence, Blackmail, Trauma, Medical Trauma, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Acid, Suicidal Thoughts, Death Wish, fading, Anal Probing, Sex Toys, spiked dildo, Dildos, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Poor Celebrimbor, Sauron Being an Asshole, Horror, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Body Modification, silvergifting, Surgery, Healing, in short: no one's having a good time in this, seriously if this is not your thing and you click it anyway i really don't know what to tell you, Silverfisting

Summary:

"Your stubbornness will be the death of you", Galadriel told him, and Tyelperinquar wishes she was right.

#silvergifting #silverfisting #sauron #celebrimbor #annatar #fanfiction #silmarillion #the silmarillion