Chapter 6

Title: The Price
Author: Anemone Frost
Email: Weepingwillow987@aol.com
Pairing: M/P; P/OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: 6/? Marroc claims what he wants.
Warnings: Rape
Archive: Ask first.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien.


Pippin gagged in disgust as a warm tongue slid into his mouth, swirling around his. He felt like retching again, but he knew better. Marroc released his mouth, raining kisses along his chin and neck. Pippin grimaced as he felt a slick finger starting caress his tight opening. He yelped as the finger pushed and breached the ring of muscles. The young hobbit gritted his teeth at the burning sensation coursing through his bottom

"You should relax, my jewel," Marroc murmured against Pippin's cheek.

"Please, stop," Pippin choked, clenching his eyes shut. "It hurts."

"You're the one that's making it worse," Marroc muttered. "Relax your muscles, and you won't feel as much pain."

A screech erupted from Pippin's mouth as another slick digit shoved into his entrance, intensifying the searing agony. Pippin bucked his hips and lifted his legs, placing the soles of his feet on Marroc's chest. Using every ounce of his strength, Pippin violently pushed the startled hobbit away. The abrupt motion caused him to topple backwards, falling off the bed and onto the floor with a loud thud. The older hobbit groaned in pain while Pippin was left panting and moaning in misery.

Marroc stood, his face beet red and lips drawn back in a snarl. "So, you want things rough, eh? Well, that can be arranged."

Pippin squeaked as Marroc violently flipped him over, forcing his rump into the air. He let out a faint whimper as he felt Marroc spreading his cheeks, and then something hard pressing against his entrance.

"I was going to make this easy for you!" Marroc spat. "I was going to make it pleasurable for you!"

"No, please, not like this!" Pippin begged, straining against his bonds.

"You brought this upon yourself," Marroc snarled.

At that, he rammed his cock forward, piercing Pippin's opening. Pippin screamed as his body jarred forward from the brutal, unexpected agony. Marroc moaned at the unbelievably tight, and hot heat that surrounded his penis. The young hobbit sobbed and shifted his body to relieve himself of the excruciating pain, but that only made Marroc tighten his grip, sinking his nails into Pippin's hips, drawing blood. Marroc smirked as he saw the younger hobbit writhing in pain. He was pumping savagely into Pippin, causing the younger hobbit's body to jar forward furiously.

Marroc had every intention on making the act as painful as possible. He wanted to damage as much of the resisting body he navigated as he could. He wanted the younger hobbit to feel every moment of the searing agony. He had to punish Pippin for his insubordination. He had to claim the hobbit. The thought of the other hobbit, Merry, made rage surge into his mind, making him pump even harder into the quivering passage. Pippin could feel the blood draining from the torn tissues onto his sweat slicked thighs. Something began to shatter deep inside Pippin`s body; and Marroc could feel it, sneering savagely at the weeping hobbit. The older hobbit cooed in satisfaction at his task.

The soreness became far more brutal, causing Pippin to scream louder and louder. He wanted to contain his pained cries, but the flaming agony was far too intense for him to remain silent.One of the older hobbit's hands caressed the side of his cheek, pushing aside a lock of cinnamon hair. It almost felt intimate and it drove more shame into Pippin's heart. The caressing never ceased and, in fact, the rough hand slid down his cheek, his neck, his back, and then slid under his belly. The hand wrapped around his member, and even with the painful act being committed, Pippin grew hard. He cried out in revulsion and did everything in his power to shove it away, but it was no use.

"Ah, so you do enjoy my ministrations, my jewel," Marroc chuckled.

Shame. It was the only word repeating in Pippin's mind. There was no pleasure entering him through this act. It was just his body's reaction, not his mind, and he hated it. He hated himself for not being able to control it. He hated himself even more when he thought of Merry. Marroc lowered his face next to Pippin's cheek, intent on capturing the younger hobbit's lips. Pippin snarled, and snapped his teeth at Marroc before swiveling his face away. Marroc laughed and drew his head away, deciding not to proceed that route, for the moment anyway.

"Say you love me," Marroc growled, thrusting harder.

Pippin howled at the sharp pain, and bit his lip hard enough to taste copper. "Never! I hate you, you vile hobbit! I love Merry! I could never love you!"

Marroc snarled, tangling his fingers in the soft curls, forcing Pippin's head into the pillow. The older hobbit placed his full weight on the younger hobbit's back, causing him to be crushed into the mattress. Marroc's thrusts grew more violent and erratic. He was groaning in pleasure as his climax quickly approached. Pippin was sobbing now, tears staining his flushed cheeks. It felt like his entire backside had caught fire.

`Oh, Merry, where are you?' he cried to himself. `This wasn't supposed to happen. My first time was supposed to be with you!'

Marroc's seed spurted with his release, causing Pippin to shudder in utter disgust. Tears streamed down the younger hobbit's face. Marroc released Pippin. He gave no fight. His body remained limp on the bed in a puddle of limbs and blood.

Pippin couldn't remember experiencing such pain in all of his life. It burned away his hard exterior and made room for fear to burrow into his weakened soul, but most of all it let in disgrace. And helplessness. He wanted to die. He wanted death so badly that he could imagine it overtaking his soul, drawing him away from this life. But something seemed to bring him back to reality. To the shame, to the hurt, and to the bitterness of defeat. He had been conquered at the hands of Marroc. Merry had not saved him.

"What is the matter, my jewel?" Marroc taunted. "Do you have nothing left to say? No words of how that miserable Merry is going to rescue you and make me pay for my wicked acts?" The older hobbit lowered himself near Pippin`s ear, giving it a quick lick. "Are you wrecked, my dear jewel? I do believe you are. Perhaps you will never admit it to me, but I can see the misery clouding over your eyes. I can see through them, deep down to your retched, meager soul. Yes, you are ruined. You are nothing more than a wasted heap of flesh. I am not finished with you, though. I think you will still bring me some pleasure yet." His gaze softened. "Perhaps I could be a bit more gentler if you would only behave better."

There was a crash outside, and Marroc frowned. He stood from the bed and yanked on a pair of trousers and a shirt, not even bothering to wipe away the blood that was crushing around his cock and belly. He momentarily leaned over the bed, placing a soft kiss on the younger hobbit's cheek before rushing out.

Pippin was left naked, freezing, and lying in a growing pool of his blood. Torn. Bleeding. Ruined. That's all Pippin could see himself as.

To be continued

Chapter 5
Chapter 7
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