Chapter 15
Title: The Price
Author: Anemone Frost
Email: Weepingwillow987@aol.com
Pairing: M/P; P/OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: 15/? Pippin sees a nastier side to Marroc when one of the party guests becomes too ‘friendly’ with Pippin.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Warnings: Rape, extreme violence, cruelty, and gore.
Archive: Ask first.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Tolkien.
A/N: Marroc is a psychopath, but we already know that right? ;) You’ll see another, more sadistic side to him. There are graphic descriptions of gore in this chapter. Before it starts I’ll put GORE SCENE STARTING and GORE SCENE END when it’s finished. I know some people on the list may not be into graphic violence so that is the reason I’m putting in the warnings. It’ll make it easier to skip over and read the rest of the fic.
Pippin jolted up the bed as he was shaken awake, coming face to face with Marroc. The older hobbit dragged Pippin off the bed and kissed him fiercely until their teeth clicked together. Pippin gave a startled gasp, allowing Marroc to plunge his tongue in and stroke across his. The young hobbit squirmed and roughly twisted his head away. Marroc only laughed and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“The guests have arrived, my jewel,” Marroc murmured. “Remember to behave.”
A violent tremble spread over Pippin’s body as he was led out of the room by his arm. He squeaked when he was pushed into a room with eight hobbits. All were gazing his form up and down, snickering and whispering amongst themselves. The room was dimly lighted by a nearby fireplace and there were servants passing out drinks and pipeweed. Roddy, Ned, and Fred were also present, taking occasional puffs from their pipes, keeping a close eye on the guests.
“Quite a fine lad you have there,” one of the hobbits stated, taking a puff from his pipe. “How much would it cost to buy him off you?”
“Sorry, Carl, but he’s not for sale,” Marroc chuckled, wrapping his arm tightly around Pippin’s waist. “This one is a keeper.”
Marroc slipped into one of the chairs, pulling Pippin into his lap. For what seemed like hours, the other hobbits chatted about gossip in the Shire and their recent conquests of young lads and lasses, making everyone in the room, save Pippin, erupt in laughter. However, when it came time for Marroc to describe his time with Pippin he graciously refused, even when the eight hobbits pleaded and taunted him. It surprised Pippin that Marroc would keep it private.
Pippin hated having to sit there. It was taking all of his willpower to keep from crying. He didn’t want to upset Marroc and receive another punishment.
The older hobbit suddenly stood and bowed to the guests.
“I must leave your company to take care of an urgent matter,” Marroc stated, tugging Pippin along. “Please, enjoy the drinks and pipeweed. I’ll return shortly.”
Pippin was left in a state of confusion as he was rushed into a separate room and shoved hard into a table, face down. Marroc flung his full weight on Pippin’s back, raining hard kisses on his cheeks and neck while lowering his hands to tug at Pippin’s trousers. The young hobbit growled and fought to scramble away from Marroc.
“I suggest you behave, my jewel, unless you want me to call Roddy, Ned, and Fred in here?” Marroc snarled.
“You have guests in the other room,” Pippin whimpered.
“I don’t really care,” Marroc answered, trailing his face in Pippin’s silky curls. “I’ve had to sit there for over an hour and listen to them drone on and on when all I wanted to do was throw you on the floor and make love to you.”
Cool air grazed over his rear as Marroc slid his trousers down. Marroc moaned, sliding his hand over the soft flesh. “Gods, you are a sight.”
Pippin choked back a sob as he heard Marroc fumbling quickly with his lacings, freeing his straining erection. One, two, and three fingers were soon invading and stretching his passage, forcing him to bite his bottom lip to keep from screaming.
“Say you love me,” Marroc moaned.
“No,” Pippin grumbled.
The young hobbit’s mouth opened in a silent scream as Marroc withdrew his fingers and slammed his cock into Pippin’s tight opening, bruising his sore passage even more. His nails dug painfully into the side of the table, creating a low scraping sound. It stung horribly, and he hissed in agony as Marroc’s member pushed in and out at an agonizing pace.
“Say you love me,” Marroc growled in Pippin’s ear, ramming savagely into the young hobbit’s rump.
“Never,” Pippin hissed, tears streaming down his crimson cheeks.
Marroc hooked his arm under Pippin’s left leg and lifted it off the floor, forcing the hobbit to lean in further to keep his balance. The forceful thrusts made the table to screech and slid along the floor. Tears trickled down Pippin’s face, forming tiny droplets on the mahogany wood. Marroc was panting heavily, nipping and licking at Pippin’s pointed ear tip.
The door suddenly burst open, causing Marroc to stiffen and stop his movements while Pippin looked on in humiliation. James was at the door, gazing over the two in shock. Marroc pulled out of Pippin, letting the young hobbit slump to the floor, weakly pulling his trousers back up. The older hobbit fixed his lacings, though it most have been terribly uncomfortable confining his erection.
“How dare you rush in here without knocking!” Marroc roared, glaring menacingly at the servant. “I hope you have a good reason for barging in or you’ll receive a good lashing!”
Pippin gazed on as the servant whispered something to Marroc, and the older hobbit’s face immediately reddened and twisted in anger. He turned to glance down at Pippin with burning blue eyes and stormed out of the room, hauling James off in a huff, leaving Pippin alone in the room.
The young hobbit rose up, shaking in fear. He didn’t understand why Marroc had left in such a hurry. The ruckus laughter in the other room made him quiver even more. The stares he had gotten from Carl made him uncomfortable.
The door creaked open, making Pippin grimace in fright, and his eyes widened when Carl stepped inside, shutting the door quietly, smirking evilly at Pippin. The young hobbit began to back away as the hobbit stalked after him, trapping him in the corner.
“My, you really are a pretty thing,” Carl cooed, tracing his fingers along Pippin’s thighs.
Pippin pushed the roaming hands away. “Get away from me! Don’t touch— ”
He yelped as a harsh slap collided with his cheek, making his head whip to the side only to whip the other way as another blow was delivered. Pippin gripped at his cheek, rubbing to soothe the burning pain. The hard hands shoved him to the floor, tearing wildly at his trousers.
“You will not speak to me in such a manner, whore!” Carl snapped.
“I’m not a whore!” Pippin cried, struggling violently.
Another slap struck his lip, splitting the old wound open. Carl’s hands wrapped around his collar, shaking his head back and forth violently, ramming the back of his head into the wooden floor. Pain was bursting all over Pippin’s body. Carl’s body was pinning his legs, creating a terrible ache.
“Yes you are!” Carl snarled. “You’re Marroc’s whore, and for a brief time you’re going to be my whore!” His hand reached under and groped Pippin’s rear. “What a nice arse. Now I see why Marroc would want a worthless lad such as yourself. You’re only good enough to be a whore.”
“No!” Pippin wailed. “Leave me alone! Get off! Get off! Someone help me!”
“I said be silent you miserable harlot!” Carl roared.
He backhanded the young hobbit again, making Pippin break out into sobs. He was going to be raped again, and this time it was from a different hobbit. Sharp nails dug into his waist as his pants began to yank down, causing Pippin to clench his eyes shut.
A loud smack echoed in the air, and the overbearing weight was lifted off of him. Pippin’s eyes flew open to see Marroc standing over Carl, now unconscious from being smacked with the butt end of a sword. James was standing at the door along with Roddy, Ned, and Fred. Marroc waved his hand, motioning the three guards over, who dragged Carl out of the room. The enraged expression on Marroc’s face softened once he spotted Pippin’s wretched form.
There were bruises forming on both sides of his battered cheeks, and blood was dribbling down his chin. The older hobbit bolted to Pippin and firmly cradled him in his arms, kissing his head and repeating soothing words over and over. Despite his hatred toward Marroc, Pippin clung to him, sobbing hard and burying his face in the older hobbit’s shoulder, dampening the material with his tears. He needed comfort for the loss of his Merry, for the loss of his life, for the loss of his body, and the only one there to give him that comfort was the hobbit he despised most; Marroc. The older hobbit was rocking him delicately, and Pippin lifted his head to gaze into Marroc’s eyes. He was shocked to see tears falling as well, and he almost seemed in pain himself. It was the first time Pippin had ever seen a speck of kindness from him.
“He—tried—to rape—me,” Pippin stuttered between sobs. “He—called—me—worthless—and—a— whore —He—wouldn’t—stop— hitting—me—”
“Darling, no one harm you like that again,” Marroc murmured, tilting Pippin’s head back gently to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Rage flickered in his eyes. “He’ll pay for harming you, my jewel. He’ll pay. No one gets away with hurting the ones I hold dear in life.” He turned to face James. “Help him outside. He’s going to watch what happens to those who threaten his life. He’s going to see what I am willing to do for him and only him.”
(GORE SCENE STARTING....)
James knelt to the floor and took Pippin into his arms, slowly easing him up and leading him out the side door and into the backyard. Carl was tied to a tree, his arms tied above his head and his ankles secured to the trunk. He was still unconscious but the other seven guests were wide eyed with fright. Marroc had strolled pass Pippin, twirling the sword in his palm, leaning against the tree where Carl was tied.
“It seems that this hobbit beat and attempted to violate my precious Pippin,” Marroc growled. “I bring you hobbits into my home, offer my friendship and hospitality, and this is how you repay me? James overheard your conversation with Carl while I was busy with Pippin. He was kind enough to warn me that Carl was going to attempt to rape Pippin while you all laughed and encouraged him. I’m disappointed in all of you. I went looking for Carl, and when I went to you, you all told me he was taking a stroll out in the garden. You led me astray, and it caused my precious jewel to be hurt. I ought to slay the whole lot of you, but I’ll only release my anger on him, for he was the one touch Pippin.” He gazed over at Pippin, smiling warmly, but then scowling as faced the other hobbits again. “Anyone who harms this precious jewel will face a most—horrid end.”
He took the knife and traced the tip over Carl’s lax face. Grinning sadistically, he pressed the sharp tip against Carl’s closed right eye, slowly plunging in until a trickle of blood oozed down his face. Pippin gagged as the flow of blood grew when the knife sunk in deeper, creating a light squishy sound as the eye was impaled. Twisting his hand, the lid split open from the blade, giving everyone plain view of the mauled orb. As the knife swivelled, the eye went with it, creating a sucking noise as Marroc began to tug, gradually pulling the eye halfway out of the bleeding socket. Pippin felt light headed as the knife eased out, holding the seeping orb impaled on the tip, leaving an empty, red socket still dribbling blood. James held him tightly, giving him support.
“You may want to turn away,” James warned softly. “It’s going to get a lot worse.”
Pippin was far too petrified to move. Never in all of his life had he seen something so terrifying and disgusting. It was at this time that Carl woke up and he obviously woke to pain for his mouth opened in miserable screams of agony. Marroc grasped the eye and pulled it off, flinging it to the ground.
“Come help me,” Marroc ordered.
Roddy, Ned, and Fred quickly rushed over and held Carl’s head still, all ready knowing what their master had planned. Ned reached into Carl’s mouth, clamping his hand tightly around the bottom portion of the hobbit’s jaw while Fred secured the top jaw, forcing Carl’s mouth to spread further and further apart until a pop echoed. The screams only intensified, and Marroc plunged his hand in, gagging Carl for a brief time before gripping the hobbit’s tongue and yanking it out. He raised the knife and slowly cut into the tender flesh, causing dark blood to gush out, and a gurgling noise followed as Carl choked on the blood rushing to the back of his throat.
Once the tongue was severed, it plopped to the ground in a gnarled mess. Marroc was laughing wildly as were his guards, just as sadistic as their master in taking delight over the writhing hobbit. The other seven were watching in silence. None made the effort to overpower the four.
Pippin was trembling violently, and he clasped his hand over his mouth when Marroc began to yank the fastenings from Carl’s trousers. It occurred to Pippin what Marroc was going to do, and he didn’t want to witness it. Sobbing, Pippin spun around and buried his face in the crook of James’ neck. The servant hugged him firmly, rubbing the quaking back and whispering softly to the young hobbit, attempting in vain to drown out the awful wails.
The gurgled screams only grew, making Pippin cling to James desperately and grit his teeth as the tears spilled down. Something was being cut off and whatever it was, soon fell to the ground, causing Pippin to tilt his head despite the voice in his mind telling him not to. What he saw made him keel over and vomit.
Carl’s trousers were pooled around his ankles, and blood was oozing down his thighs and legs, staining the fabric below. His penis and testicles had been completely hacked off, lying on the ground in a bloody pool. Marroc was driving his hand and knife into the area where the hobbit’s member had once been, tearing and clawing his way inside the hobbit’s body. Carl was still violently thrashing and yelling when Marroc slowly pulled out a portion of his intestine and dangling it at the party guests while he and his guards laughed cheerfully. He continued to pull and tug, sliding out more of the intestine, letting it coil on the ground.
Carl’s face went stiff as blood spurted from his mouth, and his eyes closed. The only sound that was left was Pippin’s weeping and the tearing of flesh as Marroc went back to insanely hacking at the body, driving his hands in and ripping out what organs he could. In very little time, Carl’s chest and belly had been gutted, leaving a seeping, empty cavity. Portions of the rib cage were visible, and the bones gleamed in the moonlight. The ground was dark with blood and organs were scattered about. Blood was crusted on his entire body, and he turned to grin widely at Pippin. The young hobbit wondered how he could have become trapped with such a monster.
“Do you see what I would do for you?” Marroc stated, approaching Pippin with outstretched arms. “I promised that I would make him pay for hurting you. Do you see how much I love you?”
Pippin didn’t hear anything after that. All was becoming dark, and the last thing he recalled was falling and the darkness overtaking him. There was one hobbit in the distance; Merry. Pippin called out to him, darting after him.
(GORE SCENE END)
The young hobbit woke as warm water settled around his waist. He jerked and tossed in the water, attempting to get up and out, but a firm body was nestled behind him, keeping him still. Pippin tilted his head and gazed up at Marroc’s face. The blood was gone, and he was rubbing the washcloth along the young hobbit’s shoulders. Pippin squeaked when he realized that two of Marroc’s fingers were gliding in and out of his passage gently, scissoring several times to stretch him. There wasn’t as much pain this time for Marroc was gentle for once. However, his face was throbbing in agony from the blows he had received.
“What are you doing?!” Pippin whined. He was upset at being woken from his dream, upset of having to watch a hobbit be gutted alive, and upset that he was going to be taken again. “Please, let me go! Can’t you leave me alone for one day!”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Marroc murmured huskily, tracing his lips over Pippin’s neck, licking the racing pulse point. “I was interrupted before, and I intend to finish what I started.”
His eyes became blurry as fresh tears returned, trickling down his battered cheeks. “How can you do this after torturing that hobbit? It was horrid. Someone will come after they hear the atrocity you committed.”
“What do I care?” Marroc asked, pumping his digits harder, purposely brushing over Pippin’s pleasure spot. “He was a miserable leech that touched you, and I don’t like things that touch my possessions without permission. He got what he deserved. No one will miss him, and no one will tell if they know what’s good for them.”
“You’re a monster,” Pippin hissed, squirming hard to get away from Marroc. “I don’t want you touching me. Please, just let me be and don’t hurt me.”
“Oh, love, you’re frightened me, aren’t you?” Marroc inquired with a hurt tone. “Pippin, I would never do that to you no matter what. Surely, I have proven that to you already? I’ve never struck you nor do I plan to do that or anything else. You’re far too precious to me. If you died, I would kill myself. I was a fool before when I taunted Merry about giving you away. I’m never going to do that. You’re mine and only mine. No one else will have you. I’ll see to that.” He voice grew calmer. “But let us move on to other, more important things. I’m going to make love to you.”
Pippin sniffled as Marroc slid his fingers out and positioned his cock, nudging through the tight ring of muscle, slowly and gently sliding in. It was uncomfortable, but Marroc was allowing the young hobbit time to adjust, kissing and sucking on his shoulders while wrapping his fingers around Pippin’s limp cock, stroking it firmly. Despite everything that had happened, Pippin found his body reacting, and he grew even more disgusted with himself. Sweat broke out over his brow and his chest heaved from rising sobs.
“Please, please just let me go,” Pippin wept. “Oh, please, stop. I don’t want this. Let me go. Let me go.”
“Hush, my jewel,” Marroc whispered, kissing his cheek. “Just let me hear your moans. They’re like sweet music.”
“No,” Pippin gasped, clenching his eyes shut as Marroc rocked against him.
Marroc snaked his arm around Pippin’s chest, pulling him tighter against his sweaty chest, delicately flicking at Pippin’s hardening nipple. The older hobbit’s lips grazed over Pippin’s trembling cheek, parting his lips to slid his tongue along Pippin’s lips, making the younger hobbit twist his head away. The water splashed against the side of the tub as Marroc’s hips thrust upwards, brushing over Pippin’s sweet spot.
“Please, I beg of you, stop!” Pippin cried, griping the sides of the tub until the pressure caused pain.
He savored the pain over the pleasure growing in his body. He wished that Marroc were being more savage with him. The gentleness was awkward, and it shamed it for it caused him to become aroused.
“No sweet one,” Marroc murmured, goading his hips harder. “Ah, you’re still so tight. How I love you. Tell me how much you love me.”
“No!” Pippin screamed, bucking wildly to get free, splashing water onto the floor. “I hate you, you vile hobbit! I only love Merry!”
A cruel laugh came from Marroc as he tugged furiously at Pippin’s member. The young hobbit’s body stiffened, and he arched into Marroc’s touch as the pleasure mounted, creating a massive climax that left him trembling violently. Marroc shuddered and came as well, tangling his fingers in Pippin’s curls and twisting his head until he was able to fully reach Pippin’s lips, pressing a savage kiss on his mouth. Pippin broke free, Marroc’s fingers still entwined in his hair, and slumped miserably, sobbing uncontrollably.
“I hate you,” Pippin cried.
Marroc only placed a gentle kiss in his curls, smiling intently. “Mine.”
To be continued.
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