Chapter 13
Title: The Price
Author: Anemone Frost
Email: Weepingwillow987@aol.com
Pairing: M/P; P/OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: 13/? Pippin attempts to escape from Marroc’s clutches only to be captured again and punished.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Warnings: Rape, angst
Archive: Ask first.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien.
Pippin’s chest was heaving from the sobs that rose in his throat. The noises were muffled by the gag stuffed in his mouth, and the tears trickled down his heated face. Nausea rose in his gut as Marroc grinded against him in the saddle. They were riding back to his quarters, riding back to the horrid place where he would spend the rest of his days by Marroc’s side. He would be Marroc’s whore until he died. Merry was dead and if Frodo and Sam figured out who had kidnaped him and murdered Merry, they would probably be killed as well if they attempted a rescue.
Shame swept over his mind. He had caused the ones he loved so much misery. Sam had been severely injured when he tried to save him, and Frodo had been molested and nearly raped. Most horrifying of all, Merry had been murdered. It was his fault; all his fault. Pippin’s heart sank and despair came over him. He didn’t want to be Marroc’s harlot, yet he didn’t want any others to suffer just to save him. He had to get away himself and reach Frodo and Sam.
Hesitantly, Pippin groped Marroc’s thigh, slowly trailing it up until he reached around to caress the hard bulge. Marroc instantly shuddered and moaned in delight. That moan turned to a pained cry as Pippin clung hard at erection, sinking his nails in as deep as he could, causing himself pain from the pressure. Marroc scrambled back to escape the agony and doing so, lost his grip on Pippin and the steed, toppling over to crash on the hard earth. Pippin quickly leapt from the pony and darted back into the woods, heading toward Bree. He couldn’t tell how far they were, but he didn’t care. He tore out the gag and picked up the pace.
“Get after him!” Marroc screamed. “Don’t let him escape!”
The infuriated statement sent chills down Pippin’s spine. A burning sensation grew in his lungs as he began to tire. It was becoming difficult to race through due to the growing brush. He was wildly pushing aside branches to get past, not caring that his arms and legs were being cut open from the sharp twigs. The ground was slippery from the morning dew, and he lost his footing, tumbling violently to the ground and striking his head on a log. Pain flashed before his eyes before darkness followed.
A set of hands lifting him off the ground caused Pippin’s eyes to flutter open. Ned and Fred were holding him up by his arms and Marroc was standing before him with Roddy at his side. Marroc’s face was twisted with anger, and it made Pippin cower, eyes widening in fright and his bottom lip trembling as sobs rose to his throat. The fury in Marroc seemed to die down as it was replaced by an evil smirk. There was a sharp throb on his skull, and he could faintly feel blood dribbling down.
“Poor darling seems to have bruised his forehead,” Roddy snickered.
“That should be the least of his worries,” Marroc laughed, drawing out a dagger.
Pippin winced at the sight of the gleaming blade and clenched his eyes shut in anticipation of sheer agony. Instead, he felt the knife shred at his nightshirt, sending tatters falling to the ground, leaving him completely nude. A blush crept over his face as he felt all four of the hobbits leered at him.
“That wasn’t a very nice thing you did to me back there,” Marroc grumbled. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you. I think a spanking is in order. Get him on his knees.”
The two hobbits subduing Pippin laughed cruelly as they dragged him down with the aid of Roddy. Panic raced into Pippin’s mind when he remembered how Marroc had used the belt on Merry. The sound of the cracking material was still strong in his mind.
A light smack was delivered to his exposed rear, but it was from a hand and not a belt. The force of the swats were firm, yet gentle. The young hobbit tilted his head, gazing at Marroc in confusion. The older hobbit gave him a warm smile.
“Come now, my jewel,” Marroc chided, “you didn’t really think I was going to hurt you, did you?”
“I thought you were going to punish me,” Pippin stuttered.
“Oh but I will,” Marroc chuckled darkly. “Or I should say—we.”
“We?” Pippin squeaked. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Marroc sneered.
The smacks continued but began to lessen to rough gropes and caresses. Tears spilled down Pippin’s cheeks from the humiliation. He prayed that Marroc wouldn’t take him front of the other three hobbits. There was a rustling, and he saw Marroc kneel down before him, making his eyes widen in shock. Whipping his head around, Pippin found that Roddy had taken his place. It was Roddy who was molesting him. He suddenly realized what Marroc had planned for him.
“Please, don’t let them hurt me!” Pippin pleaded.
Marroc extended his hand, cupping the flushed cheek. “Fear not. I will not allow them to take you. Only I may do that. However, I’m going allow them to touch you and even taste you. I’m sure you would enjoy that, wouldn’t you lads?”
“Very much,” Roddy murmured, slipping his hand down Pippin’s cleft. “He’s so beautiful.”
Fred nodded in agreement and leaned close to Pippin’s face, drawing out his tongue to lap away the tears dribbling down. Pippin jerked his head away in disgust, trying to keep the hobbit from reaching his lips. A gasp came from Pippin as he was gently turned onto his side, leaving his head cushioned in Marroc’s lap. Fred remained near Pippin’s head, licking and kissing at any visible flesh before burying his nose in the drenched curls, taking in the sweet scent of peppermint. Ned had trailed down the young hobbit’s body, wrapping his hand firmly around Pippin’s cock and stroking it steadily. Pippin shook his head violently, and cried out in pain as a digit pushed through his puckered entrance.
“Be gentle,” Marroc warned Roddy.
Pippin couldn’t believe that he was being violated by three hobbits in front of Marroc. It was so embarrassing to be seen naked let alone violated by three hobbits he didn’t know. To make matters worse, his body was starting to respond to the gentle ministrations, making him groan lightly as the finger grazed over his sweet spot, causing his member to harden.
“I think he likes this,” Ned laughed, lowering his head to suckle on one Pippin’s nipples.
“Well, what do you expect for a whore?” Marroc chuckled. He tangled his fingers in Pippin’s locks and twisted the lad’s head until he was gazing down at the wet, green eyes. “Beg me to take you.”
Pippin violently shook his head. “Never!”
Another finger slipped in, causing Pippin to grimace as the burning agony returned. Roddy was not being gentle. The hobbit was pumping his fingers in at a furious pace, dragging his nails over Pippin’s sensitive tissues until the young hobbit was whimpering in misery. Fred had lowered his head, taking the other nipple between his teeth, nipping and tugging gently at the hardening nub. Ned released the nipple he had been suckling and dove down on Pippin’s member, engulfing the entire length in his warm mouth. Pippin screamed and bucked, attempting to scramble away from the unwanted pleasure. Marroc and Fred easily kept him pinned.
‘Gods, make it stop!’ Pippin’s mind wailed. ‘Let it end!’
“Beg me to take you,” Marroc snarled, “or else I just may let these lads have you. I should warn you, their not as gentle as I am.”
Pippin yelped as Fred sank his teeth into the sensitive nub, making it feel as if the nipple would be torn off at any second. His cries only intensified as Roddy pounded his fingers into the tight passage as Ned scraped his teeth harshly over the head of Pippin’s cock. The pain was unimaginable, and Pippin felt no choice but to give in.
“Take me Marroc!” Pippin wept. “Please, I need you so much. Please, take me.”
“That’s a good whore,” Marroc murmured, patting Pippin on the head.
The three hobbits flipped Pippin onto his back as Marroc crawled around and unlaced his trousers. Pippin clenched his eyes shut, focusing on how damp the ground was and that there was grass clinging to his back. His train of thought was interrupted as Marroc slammed his cock forward, sheathing himself fully in Pippin’s unwilling body. A strangled cry came from the young hobbit as the steel-like flesh thrust in and out at an agonizing pace. He was being ripped apart again. He could feel the blood trickling down his rear.
Ned and Fred hooked their arms under Pippin’s legs, pulling them further apart and bending them back a bit. Marroc was grunting and moaning, digging his nails into Pippin’s thighs as his thrusts grew short and brutal. Two mouths descended on his, each forcing entry into his mouth with their tongues. His eyes were still shut, and squeezed them even tighter as the two tongues took turns plunging in and out. He felt like gagging as a warm mouth swallowed his aching cock. Hands were roaming everywhere, groping and prodding at every inch of his flesh.
The three hobbits were suddenly shoved out of the way as Marroc collapsed on top of Pippin, pumping savagely and kissing the young hobbit ferociously. The bruising force made his chapped, bottom lip split open and bleed. Every thrust pounded over his sweet spot, and Pippin sobbed in shame as his seed spurted out from his climax, quickly followed by Marroc’s. The waves of pleasure left Pippin trembling violently and sobbing uncontrollably.
‘Why couldn’t I control my body?’ Pippin thought. ‘Maybe Marroc is right. Maybe I am nothing more than a whore. Why else would I come under such a violation? I’m dirty and worthless. Merry shouldn’t have died for a harlot such as myself.’
Marroc pulled out, lacing up his trousers and unclasping his cape, wrapping it around Pippin’s nude form. Gently, he lifted the young hobbit off the ground and carried him through the woods, heading back toward the trail as the other three hobbit followed closely.
“I certainly hope you don’t attempt escape again,” Marroc warned. “The punishment might be a little more severe, my jewel.”
Pippin’s body was lax and the weeping ceased. He had no intentions of running away again. He belonged to Marroc now. There was no hope left in him. Why should he keep hope when his love, Merry, was dead?
To be continued.
Chapter 12
Chapter 14
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