Many Desertions
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Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
882
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Many Desertions
Title: Many Desertions (Ring Around the Merry Universe) alternate slash chapter
Author: Celandine Goodbody
Email: CelandineG@aol.com
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash content, some nonconsensual situations, strong language, violence, angst
Pairing: M/F,
Category: Slash, AU, angst,
Feedback: Yes
Summary: Merry completes the breaking of Frodo during a post-cellar confrontation
Disclaimer: The author claims no legal rights to the characters, settings, situations, or other characteristics that are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, their licensees, or others and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money or other remuneration is sought or received.
Copying: This fanfiction is available only for the private enjoyment of RATM readers. Please ask permission before copying or re-posting elsewhere.
A/N: This chapter was my first attempt at slash and was inspired by Emma’s early-on request for ideas. It is a stand-alone chapter hypothesizing another technique that Merry might have used to break Frodo (weakened by his sensory deprivation in the root cellar). Although not integral to the main story line, it is posted for everyone’s interest.
*Please note that this is not a sequel to my previously posted alternate slash chapter, Final Desecration, and it is meant to stand independently as a totally different method of "Frodo-breaking".*
This work includes strong language, sexual scenes involving hobbit slash pairings and some non-con. Please don’t read it if this offends you. Many, many thanks to Emma, my light of Earendil, for her wonderful support and encouragement throughout this process—and for letting me *play*. –Celandine
RATM
Many Desertions
By
Celandine Goodbody
Merry laid Frodo down on the soft bed and removed the ropes that had long held his cousin prisoner—deprived of his senses, cold and hungry, lonely and desperate. He stood back in silence, watching for a long time as Frodo lay fully conscious, unclothed, and motionless on the bed, waiting submissively for someone else to act. His face was pallid under the blindfold and his limbs were striped with welts where he had struggled against the bonds until rage and reason were forgotten things.
Nodding in satisfaction, Merry leaned over and removed the waxy plugs, gently caressing the outline of his cousin’s pointed ears. “Frodo,” he whispered softly, “it’s your Merry.”
So long in silence, Frodo jumped at the sounds but he made no attempt to move; instead, he let out a series of small whimpers, his breath coming in ragged spurts.
“I have given you back your hearing,” said Merry, “and now I will let you see.” He removed the thick blindfold, simultaneously covering Frodo’s eyes with his hand. “All right, love, open your eyes now, very carefully.” Merry’s hand hovered protectively, shading the light.
Frodo’s black lashes fluttered and his eyes, so long in darkness, were dilated and teary. He blinked several times as his pupils slowly constricted and he began to focus on the one thing his cousin wanted him to see after so many days of sensory deprivation.
Hunger and thirst forgotten, Frodo reached up for Merry, his weakened hands slipping and grasping at his cousin’s arms. “M…er…ry…M..erry…Merry… Merry…Merry…Merry,” his long-disused voice repeated his cousin’s name hysterically, faster and faster, his dry throat rasping and gagging with the effort to speak.
“Hush, love,” Merry whispered, sitting down on the bed. He picked Frodo up and held him in his arms. “I’m here. I’m here, my sweet.” Merry finger-combed his cousin’s soft curls, speaking to him as if he were a child. “Hush.”
Frodo was hyperventilating as he curled in closer, nuzzling himself deep into Merry’s chest, feeling his warmth, entwining his fingers tightly in his clothing. “Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry…” He kept repeating the name that was now his mantra, his only link to sanity.
Merry took a deep breath, planning the next step in a carefully orchestrated plan. He rocked Frodo back and forth, singing a soft lullaby—the same childhood song Frodo’s mother had sung to him. “Listen, sweetheart,” Merry said. “You didn’t want me to sing it, remember? You were quite angry with me, saying it was only for you and your mother. You hurt your Merry, you know. You made me cry.”
“No.” Frodo looked up at Merry with swirling pools of tears in his eyes. He buried himself in Merry’s shirt. “No, no, no…ours, Merry, ours.” Frodo’s voice rose frantically, desperate to please the one who had saved him from the darkness.
“Hush, child.” Merry continued to rock his cousin, pressing Frodo’s face to his chest, blocking his voice for a minute. “Hush.” He hummed more of the pretty tune, enjoying it, savoring this moment of peace before the final storm.
“So…now you understand,” he whispered into Frodo’s ear. “Good. Your time in the cellar must have helped you. This song is ours, because I love you.”
“You love me.” Frodo repeated tonelessly, his head still buried in Merry’s clothing.
Merry lifted Frodo’s chin so he was forced to look him in the eyes. “Your mother didn’t love you Frodo.” He spoke slowly, in his most serious voice. “You must understand that too.”
Frodo’s expression was confused and disoriented but his eyes showed that he had understood well enough.
“She left you all alone!” Merry said harshly. “To go begging to the Brandybucks for sustenance!”
Frodo turned away but Merry grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up as he spat out the words. “A poor relation we had to take in, a bloody beggar that nobody wanted!”
Frodo stared at him blankly.
“You idiot!” Merry held his cousin out at arm’s length and backhanded him across the mouth. “She left you ALONE.”
“NO!” Frodo screamed. “I don’t want to be alone!” He grabbed Merry in desperation and his cousin once again enveloped him, murmuring soft, soothing sounds. After a time, Frodo looked up into Merry’s relentless gaze, his eyes large with realization. “She didn’t love me.” Frodo’s voice was stronger and there was inflection in his tone.
Merry held his smile in check. “No, my sweet, she didn’t. Finally, you understand. You are an odd, strange little hobbit that nobody wanted. Even my mother didn’t want you! Why do you think she sent you to Bilbo? Even he couldn’t stand you. He left Hobbiton to get away from you, and he was an old man who should have been happy at home.”
“Bilbo?” Frodo’s weakness precluded any self-control. He began to cry like a baby.
Merry held him close. “Hush, hush…I love you, Frodo, you don’t need anyone else.” He whispered the words softly in his cousin’s ear, making the moment intensely intimate. In spite of himself, Merry was touched by the pitiful emotions, almost believing his own words as he held his sobbing cousin close to his chest.
He took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Calm down now, love, everything will be all right.” Merry caressed the tear-stained face, his own vision also blurred by tears. “Look at us, Frodo, this is no time for weeping but a time for celebration...of your new life.”
Frodo’s chest was heaving as he stared at Merry like a drowning hobbit would a life preserver. He clung to his cousin even harder, as if he would never let him go.
Merry sniffled a few times and fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Just a minute, love.” He gently laid Frodo down on the pillows but his cousin sprung up and grabbed onto him, whimpering unintelligible sounds.
“Lie down!”
Frodo immediately let go and fell into the pillows. “Yes, Merry,” he said quietly, his chest rising and falling with quick, rapid breaths.
Almost there, Merry thought, smoothly bringing his emotions into check as he rubbed his swollen eyes. He leaned down and used the handkerchief on Frodo’s teary face. “I have some nice things for you, Cousin. Are you hungry?”
Frodo’s jaw dropped and his eyes danced at the thought of food after so many days.
Merry reached over to the nightstand and poured a glass of water. He held Frodo in his arms and put the glass to his lips. “Just a small sip, love.”
His hands at his sides, Frodo sighed with pleasure as he drank what Merry would allow, choking a bit as the glass was removed. He looked up at his cousin with love and gratitude. “Thank-you, Merry.”
“You’re very welcome, love.”
As Merry turned and put the glass down, his eyes were caught by the gleaming, golden Ring with its silver chain, lying on the table. He stared at it with a mixture of fear and hunger, knowing its power and longing to be part of it. That will come, he thought, but for now it can stay there. For he would not brook any complications or take any chances. He was too close to his goal.
Forcing his eyes from the Ring, Merry turned to a dish of fancy chocolates and picked one up. He slowly brought the sweet to Frodo’s lips, allowing the overwhelming richness to assail his senses. Frodo’s eyes grew larger but, much to Merry’s satisfaction, he didn’t move.
“You may eat it, Frodo.”
Frodo opened his lips and Merry fed him the chocolate, bit by bit, slowly pushing it into his mouth, pressing it onto his tongue. Frodo closed his eyes in ecstasy as he tasted the lush, buttery chocolate. His hands closed into tight fists and his feet stretched out as if his whole body had been struck by lightening.
“Hmmm, so good, Frodo,” purred Merry as he rubbed the chocolate around in Frodo’s mouth with his finger. “Relax, Cousin, enjoy. You deserve it, you’ve been sooooo good.”
Frodo’s eyes remained closed as he sunk more deeply into the pillows, murmuring small sounds of pleasure. Merry swirled the sweetness around, letting the confection break apart and spread throughout his mouth. Frodo sighed with delight as he swallowed but Merry’s finger stayed inside, exploring, caressing the sensitive, moist depths. Frodo curled his tongue around the finger, sucking it like a babe, extracting the last of the sweet, sugary taste.
Merry moved his finger in and out, sensuously rubbing Frodo’s lips, letting him fondle and suck it as he relaxed further into the pillows, sighing with a primordial kind of delight. Absentmindedly, Merry gazed over Frodo’s nude body, lying unbound and quiet on the bed. He marveled at the sheer, alabaster beauty of his weakened cousin—a stark, glowing, inner beauty—ethereal almost, only enhanced by deprivation. His eyes were drawn to the brand on Frodo’s hip, nicely healed and permanent. B is for Brandybuck, he thought. Frodo is mine.
Merry leaned down, breathing into Frodo’s ear. “You are soooo beautiful, so sweet and lovable.” He gently pulled his finger from Frodo’s mouth and immediately followed with a soft, lingering kiss. Frodo fell deeper into the goosedown, his rich, full lips, soft and yielding.
The whole sensation gave Merry unexpected goosebumps. Striving to control himself, he caressed Frodo’s lips with his own, gently kneading them, nipping and sucking lightly on the sweet skin, tasting the remnants of the chocolate. Finally, he parted them gently with his tongue.
Frodo’s eyes sprung open. “Merry?” He pulled away in confusion, licking his lips, as if he had just awoken from a disturbing dream. “What are you doing?”
Merry leaned back, weighing his words carefully. “I want to show you…how much I love you.”
Frodo sat up further and leaned against the headboard. He looked down at his body as if noticing his nakedness for the first time. There was a crumpled sheet by his side and he pulled it up to his waist.
Merry angrily grabbed the sheet and tore it from the bed, tossing it onto a nearby chair. “Frodo, for Eru’s sake, I’ve seen every inch of you a dozen times over.” He kissed his cousin lightly on the lips. “Besides, you’ve not yet earned the privilege to cover yourself. It will be granted when you are obedient to my touch.”
“But,” Frodo’s eyes teared up again, “I’ve never done anything like…I mean, we’re cousins, Merry, I don’t want…”
Merry reached back and slapped him across the face. “If I want to touch you, you will submit,” he shouted harshly, “and have no opinion about it!”
Frodo grimaced at the sensation of pain, abnormally intensified after so many days of sensory deprivation. He made a small sound, full of tension.
“Trust and obedience will make you happy,” continued Merry, his voice soft again. “In all things.” He leaned back and slapped Frodo again, harder this time, his eyes calculating his cousin’s reaction.
“Ooww!” Frodo yelled loudly, a shade of anger in his voice. He lifted his hand and rubbed his cheek.
Merry frowned, pushing the hand down to his side. “Too much will, Frodo, you are not yet accepting.”
“But it hurts, Merry. Why…”
Merry hit him again, cracking his lip. This time Frodo was silent, his only response, a single tear trickling down his cheek.
Merry smiled as be bent over and wiped the tear away. “Better, Cousin.”
Frodo started to say something but Merry put his finger to his cousin’s mouth, silencing him. Then his fingers began to trace over Frodo’s bleeding lips, slipping inside them, softly caressing their moist, internal surface. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned into the affectionate touch; it was so much better than pain and hitting.
Smiling, Merry moved in closer, whispering soft, soothing things. He gently licked the outside of his cousin’s ear, slowly making his way up to the exquisitely sensitive tip. He lingered there for a long time, tantalizing, nipping and licking, sending helpless shivers of pleasure through Frodo’s body.
Merry wrapped his arms around his cousin affectionately, pulling him onto his lap, treating his other ear to the same delicious sensations. Then he wrapped his fingers deep into Frodo’s ebony curls and guided his head, pressing their lips together, controlling every nuance of the sensual kiss. He couldn’t help moaning himself as Frodo finally opened up a little, allowing him inside. After some gentle exploration, Merry withdrew and feathered little kisses on Frodo’s eyes, nose, and cheeks, moving his fingers down and teasing his cousin’s ear tips again, ever so lightly. Frodo sank into Merry’s arms, breathing heavily.
“Now isn’t that nice?” said Merry, straightening up.
“Yes…yes, Merry…” Frodo’s voice was shaking and his eyes were dark and troubled. “But I…I still don’t think it’s...”
Merry backhanded him hard, causing Frodo to fall against the headboard. “Thinking is my job. Not yours. Mine!” Merry grabbed Frodo’s arm and dragged him angrily off the bed. His cousin staggered on weakened legs but Merry held him up, pulling him by the waist into a tight embrace. “Now, you will do as I say!”
Merry licked his lips with anticipation as he reached around the back of Frodo’s head, drawing him closer. But Frodo turned away from his cousin, frowning and closing his lips tightly.
“DAMN YOU!” Merry screamed at him, losing control. “I give up!” He shoved Frodo backward onto the bed. “You worthless, ungrateful little twit…and…and…after all I’ve done for you!” He walked a few steps away and turned back to Frodo. “No wonder everyone has deserted you, you sorry excuse for a hobbit!”
Frodo lowered his head. “Not Sam,” he whispered to himself, his voice almost inaudible.
“I heard that!” yelled Merry, not bothering to hide his irritation. “You flatter yourself, Cousin. That stupid gardener doesn’t give a…” Shaking his head in disgust, he walked back toward bed.
Frodo cringed, covering his face with his hands.
“No, Frodo.” Merry lowered his voice but the menace remained, the rage, palpable. “I won’t bother to hit you. You’re just not worth my time anymore.” Merry grabbed Frodo’s arm and pulled him off the bed.
“Pippin!” Merry shouted for his younger cousin as he dragged Frodo, stumbling and falling, across the room. When they reached the doorway, he pulled Frodo’s arms behind his back and held his wrists together. “You’re going back to the cellar and then the rest of us...”
“NO!!”
“…Are going home to Brandy Hall…for good.”
“NO, NO, NO, NO!!!” Frodo was screaming hysterically. He fell limp to the floor. “No, please, Merry, I’ll be good.” Frodo grabbed Merry’s legs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t think, I won’t do anything, I love you, please, Merry, please don’t. I couldn’t BEAR IT.” With that he collapsed, hyperventilating, sobbing and babbling against Merry’s hairy feet.
Merry Brandybuck was hyperventilating himself as he smiled down at his cousin. Very close now. He dragged Frodo back to the bed, sitting him down on the edge. As Frodo continued to sob, Merry hauled back and slapped him as hard as he could. “Stop it!”
Frodo shuddered as he looked up, but he managed to stop crying.
Merry carefully observed his passive expression. Good. Then he knelt down and took Frodo in his arms. He gently wiped his tears away and kissed his cousin with all the love and tenderness he could manage. This time Frodo opened up to him, slowly at first but then willingly and without restraint. Merry explored him relentlessly and as their passion increased, Frodo timidly stretched his own tongue into Merry’s mouth. Merry broke the kiss and stood up. Very good.
“Frodo,” he said, his arms folded across his chest, “I don’t know why I’m so soft when it comes to you but I’ll give you one more chance.”
Frodo’s reddened eyes followed him as Merry stepped back, gazing lovingly at his cousin. Then he slowly began to unlace his shirt.
***
Pippin ignored Merry’s shout as he had been told to do. He sat nervously in the parlor watching the noisy old clock tick off the minutes. Twenty minutes, Merry had told him to wait.
The young hobbit stood and began to pace up and down, stirring up dust with each step. How he wished this was over, that they could just live happily together, right here at Crickhollow. No shouting, no beatings, no more tying up poor Cousin Frodo or Sam. Pippin prayed that Frodo would understand soon but he didn’t think Sam would ever get it straight. He shivered, thinking what more might happen to them and he was glad it wasn’t up to him. His job was to help Merry. He fingered the ridges of the small brand on his shoulder. B is for Brandybuck. Merry had chosen him, claimed him as his very own. Pippin smiled with pride. He would obey Merry in all things, no matter how hard or distasteful. Soon they would be a family, just like Merry said.
Pippin went over to the coffee table and checked the soft, padded material that he and Merry had carefully prepared and practiced with. And Sam’s wide brimmed, gardener’s hat. That was very important. Merry would certainly punish him if he forgot the hat. He looked back at the clock. Fifteen more minutes.
***
Like a fly in a trap, Frodo watched Merry pull his shirt over his shoulders. Looking at Merry’s bare chest, he became acutely aware of his own nakedness and moved his hands protectively over his groin.
“No,” said Merry softly and pulled his cousin’s hands back to his sides.
Frodo then sat without moving, eyes closed, terrified to commit any offense that would land him back in the cellar. After a time, he opened his eyes to see that Merry had removed the rest of his clothing. He swallowed hard.
Merry leaned over and ran his fingers slowly through Frodo’s hair. “You are mine, Frodo Baggins, body and soul,” he whispered as he twisted Frodo’s dark curls until he yelped. Then Merry sat down beside him, pulling him close until Frodo could feel his hot, rapid breathing. Unable to help himself, Frodo gazed into Merry’s beautiful ashen eyes, bright with desire. He was faltering, falling into them, down and down on a slippery slope with no purchase or lifeline. Frodo leaned into Merry’s kiss, let Merry’s warm hands trail down his naked body into his most private regions. Boneless, Frodo melted against his cousin, resigned now, to his fate.
Merry took Frodo’s hand and kissed his fingertips, one by one. In a single motion he licked them moist then moved them in hard circles over Frodo’s own pale nipples. Chills erupted down Frodo’s spine as he felt the sensations, both from his own fingers and from his tender nubs, now pink and upright. Merry leaned in to kiss Frodo’s nipples, expertly pulling, sucking, and licking them erect. Frodo moaned helplessly with pleasure. Merry smiled as he dragged Frodo’s fingers slowly down his cousin’s stomach to the pink, tender brand on his hip.
“B” whispered Merry. “What does it stand for, Frodo?”
Frodo’s mind was swirling out of control as his body betrayed him more and more. He could feel his arousal growing and his cheeks flushed scarlet, knowing that Merry could see it too. His head swam in passion and hormones. He couldn’t think anymore. He had promised Merry he wouldn’t think, he didn’t want to think, he had to please Merry. He had to.
“What does it stand for, love?” Merry’s voice was soothing and patient as he guided his cousin’s moist fingertips over the smooth ridges.
“Br…Br…Brandybuck,” whispered Frodo, his voice shaking. “B is for Brandybuck.”
“And what does that mean to you, Frodo?”
“I…I don’t know.” Frodo’s fingers trembled.
Merry squeezed them hard, causing Frodo to wince. “Yes, you do. Branding means…?” He raised his eyebrows. His voice was in a lower register, barely under control.
Frodo was breathing raggedly. “Ah, I…Ah…Oh, Merry, I don’t…” His eyes squinted in pain. “Wait, wait…possession, yes. Branding…means…” He smiled up at Merry. “Ownership.”
“Very good.” Merry returned the smile, relaxing his grip. “You understand, now, that I own you.”
Frodo was silent
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND!” Merry let go of Frodo’s hand and raised his arm up high.
“Yes, yes, yes, Merry.” Frodo answered hysterically. “Don’t, please. I do…I…understand. Just…don’t…hurt me anymore.”
“Whether you get hurt is up to you, Frodo,” said Merry evenly. “It always has been.”
Merry bent down and kissed him tenderly on the shoulder. “I only want to love you, to worship your beautiful body.” He ran his fingers slowly along the graceful line of Frodo hip, causing him to inhale sharply.
“Your job is to submit, Cousin,” he whispered sensuously, “without thought or hesitation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Merry,” said Frodo, his breathing rate increasing.
“And will you submit?” Merry asked him, kissing Frodo slowly and lovingly, this time on the other shoulder. Without waiting for an answer, he kissed his way down Frodo’s damaged back, licking and nipping at the whip marks, exciting shimmering sensations of pain and pleasure.
Frodo sighed heavily, closing his eyes and savoring the affection so missing in his life. His heart was beating fast, his skin, moist with sweat. He was dizzy from hunger and a longing for love so deep he could barely stand it. So deep that when it came to Merry, he could no longer separate pleasure and pain. It was all just Merry. He was branded, owned, it was no longer his decision anyway.
For the last time, deep within the cobwebs of Frodo’s damaged soul, a small voice quivered in defiance. But like a wisp of smoke spread on a windy highway, it swirled slowly into widening circles and dissolved into nothingness.
“Yes, Merry,” Frodo said finally, his voice a whisper, “I will submit.”
***
Merry reached out and caressed Frodo’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “That was the right answer, love.” He spoke softly, smiling into Frodo’s eyes.
Then Merry grabbed Frodo by the waist, turning and bending him over. He spread his cousin’s legs wide and lightly ran his fingernails along the soft skin of Frodo’s inner thighs, finding all the right places to give pleasure. Frodo gasped over and over, trying to control himself, trying not to move or displease his cousin. Merry’s hands continued to explore, up and down, between his legs, finally running over Frodo’s pale, unmarked buttocks.
Frodo twisted around, his eyes growing larger. “Please….”
Merry laughed at the look on his face. “Come, my love,” he said, grabbing Frodo and pulling him backward onto the bed. “It’s time to learn the joys of obedience.”
They tumbled over each other, their arms and legs intertwining. Frodo’s body tingled with helpless passion as Merry encircled him with his strong arms, kissing and nipping at his neck.
“Don’t move, Fro,” whispered Merry, breathing heavily into his sensitive ears.
In sensuous foreplay Merry explored his cousin, relentlessly, mercilessly with his knowledgeable fingers. Frodo lay still, fearful of punishment yet trapped nonetheless in his own reactions; and soon he knew nothing but Merry’s touch. His fingers were everywhere, between Frodo’s thighs, caressing his genitals, running over his buttocks, separating him from reality. There was no hunger, thirst, or pain anymore, only acceptance. Merry was his whole world now; he belonged to Merry. There was no reason to worry. Frodo sighed. It felt so good.
But Merry was not interested in Frodo feeling good. This was a test of obedience and it was time to up the ante. Merry propped himself against the pillows and pulled Frodo over his lap, holding him down with one hand. “Now, just do as I say,” he whispered. “I’m going to show you some things.”
Frodo was hyperventilating as he grabbed the bedclothes with his hands. Yes, Merry. He could only mouthed the words.
Merry began to rub his cousin’s scarred back, scratching apart the soft scabs, watching the gooseflesh rise on Frodo’s arms and feeling his arousal growing against his skin. “Pain and pleasure,” Merry said, breathlessly, “can ride on each other, Fro, feel it.” He pulled and tore at the healing welts until Frodo cried out but even he didn’t know which one he was crying for.
“Hush, love,” Merry whispered soothingly as one hand traveled lower, its strong fingers seizing his cousin’s buttocks and squeezing hard while the other continued ravaging his back.
“Spread your legs.”
Frodo inhaled, moving his legs apart.
“More, love.” Merry squeezed his back hard.
Frodo yelped, moving his legs again.
Still dissatisfied, Merry moved one leg over Frodo’s thighs, shoving him even further apart and tight to the mattress. Then Merry reached up and ran his fingers slowly across Frodo’s lips, feeling his cousin’s, hot, helpless breaths coming faster and faster. “Lick them, Frodo,” he ordered.
Frodo timidly stuck out his tongue and licked his cousin’s fingertips. Then Merry thrust them into Frodo’s mouth and, without being told, Frodo sucked on them as if they were the sweetest fruit in Buckland. Merry shifted position slightly and bent down, kissing Frodo on each cheek of his buttocks, licking and nipping, listening to his cousin’s stifled moans. Without warning, Merry withdrew his moist fingers and trailed them down the small of Frodo’s back and into his cleft. Frodo stiffened and his eyes enlarged as he gasped, suddenly terrified at what was coming.
Merry’s able fingers soon found their small, soft target. “Ah, very nice, Fro,” he said, letting out his breath. “Very nice indeed.”
Frodo squirmed helplessly. Oh, by Eru… “No,” he whimpered, wiggling free of Merry’s hand.
“Yes!” Merry hissed, his tone low, dark, and guttural. He was panting hard with excitement as he knelt up and pushed Frodo firmly against the pillows. Ignoring Frodo’s cry, he dug his fingernails into his cousin’s buttocks, drawing rivulets of blood as he parted his cheeks viciously. “Don’t you dare move, slut!”
This time it really hurt but Frodo lay still, clutching at the sheet, too afraid to do anything but submit as Merry prepared to take his pleasure. And it was then that he knew that Merry had been right all along. Frodo Baggins was a worthless slut, spread out and submitting, unworthy of any decent hobbit’s love. He was glad his parents were dead and Bilbo was gone so they would never know what he had become.
Suddenly, a loud gasp came from the hall outside the open door. Frodo raised his head, twisting out of Merry’s hands and knocking him over. The two of them were painfully aroused, flushed and breathing hard, a tangle of naked legs and arms. Frodo grabbed on to Merry and stared, wide-eyed and horrified, at the hobbits in the doorway.
***
Pippin’s face was scarlet as he stood holding Sam’s arm. He hadn’t been expecting anything like that. Merry had told him to take Sam outside exactly twenty minutes after he called out Pippin’s name, and then he was to…but he…oh, this was awful.
Sam’s face was just as red and his ears were burning as he stood in the open doorway, his hands tied behind his back. He stared at Frodo, eyes wide, shock and disgust, the first things on his face. Well, they’re sure havin’ a good time while I’m tied up in the dark like a sack o’taters. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
If Sam had been more aware and less shocked, he would have seen the pain, humiliation, and abject shame in Frodo’s eyes, the look of helplessness and despair. But before he could register that or even think about it, Pippin shoved him down the hall and out the door, just as Merry had told him to.
***
Merry straddled his cousin’s abdomen, holding him down on the bed amid flailing arms and legs. He clamped his hand hard over Frodo’s mouth to keep him from screaming. In his weakened condition, Frodo was no match for his cousin, so there he stayed until Sam and Pippin were well outside.
“Listen to me!” Merry shouted at Frodo, who was struggling senselessly under him. “Stop it this minute!”
Frodo stared up at him, screeching impotently under Merry’s hand, his eyes wet with tears and his face stricken in horror.
“Listen to me, just listen.” Merry panted with the effort as he squeezed his cousin harder against the bed.
Exhausted, Frodo finally stopped struggling but Merry kept his hand over his mouth. “Did you see his face, Frodo, my little fuckhobbit?” Merry grinned, raising his eyebrows. “Sam was really disgusted with you, wasn’t he? I wonder how long he was there, just watching us.”
Frodo screamed silently under Merry’s firm hand and started struggling again.
“Well,” said Merry, barely containing his laughter. “I may as well let Sam go, now that he finally understands what you are all about. Easy enough to find work elsewhere, I imagine. One master’s the same as the next to those people.” Gingerly, Merry lessened his pressure on Frodo’s mouth. “Are you going to behave?”
Frodo nodded and Merry carefully lifted his hand. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss where it had been. “We don’t need the likes of him, do we, love.”
Frodo closed his eyes as more tears ran heedlessly down his cheeks. “Sam,” he whimpered, almost inaudibly. “I can explain.”
“I don’t think so.” Merry chuckled. “You’re my whore, Frodo, even your stupid Sam could figure that one out.”
Merry left Frodo in a weeping heap and crawled off the bed. He pulled on his breeches with a sigh, wishing that Pippin had waited ten more minutes. He walked over to the window and shoved it open. “Pippin! You can let Sam go…if he wants to leave, that is. Or he can stay here with Mr. Frodo. It’s up to him.”
He turned back to Frodo, who was sitting up in bed, looking at him. “Frodo-love,” said Merry cheerfully, “you’re a mess.” He crossed the room and took Frodo by the arm, dragging him to the side of the bed. Using the discarded sheet, he dried Frodo’s body and swollen, teary face, removing the remnants of crusted blood. Then he pulled a comb out of his pocket and smoothed out the tangles in his cousin’s silky hair.
Finally, he leaned down and embraced Frodo with a gentle hug. “Don’t cry any more, Fro,” he said, gazing into his beautiful cornflower eyes. “Merry is here and he loves you so much.” He rubbed his cousin’s cheek gently with the back of his hand. “And I will never leave you.”
Frodo slumped in his arms, feeling the world swirling around and around, growing smaller and smaller. “Oh, Sam,” he whispered, stifling another sob.
“Now, we’ll have no more of that,” said Merry. “He doesn’t care about you. Come and see.”
Merry half carried Frodo over to the window where they both saw Sam walking slowly down the path that led to the road. He carried his backpack with all his possessions, including the noisy cooking utensils, and he was wearing the same large brimmed hat that Merry had given him when they first arrived.
“SAM!” Frodo screeched through the open window, his eyes a blur of tears. “I’M SORRY, SAM!! PLEASE COME BACK, I NEED YOU, SAM, DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEEEASE!!”
Sam raised his hand in a gesture of contempt as he kept walking down the path, faster and faster. Frodo continued to scream and plead, becoming more incoherent and hysterical. Finally, the gardener disappeared without looking back, through the gate and onto the road.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” said Merry, closing the window with a thud.
Frodo sunk slowly to the floor, his legs twisted underneath him. “Sam,” he whispered under his breath.
“Sam has deserted you, too, Frodo,” said Merry, harshly. “Just like everyone else. Of course he’ll blab it all over the Shire, now.” He laughed out loud. “Merry and his little Frodo-slut. We won’t be able to show our faces anywhere after this.” He laughed again. “But who cares, we don’t need any of them, we have each other.”
Frodo didn’t respond. His head bent lower as he sunk into the floor.
Merry stood still, watching him for a minute, then he walked back and sat down wearily next to the nightstand. He stared at the golden Ring with apprehension and a bit of self-satisfaction. It seemed so small and harmless, sitting quietly there on the table. Merry took a deep breath and his whole body shuddered.
Shaking his head, he picked up a chocolate and pressed it against his lips, inhaling the intoxicating scent. His eyes were bright as he pushed it into his mouth, savoring it slowly, chewing, sucking, watching his cousin’s lifeless form on the floor underneath the window. Finally, he stood and walked over to the spot where Frodo lay unmoving.
“And now,” said Merry, as he knelt down beside his cousin, “the final exam.”
***
Merry lifted Frodo’s head and saw at last what he had longed to see all these many days. The once beautiful eyes were clouded and unfocused, not a trace of defiance remained. Merry grinned with delight and kissed Frodo on the forehead. Then he picked him up in his arms, feeling the exhaustion of the complex interrogations, the draining anger, and the stress of Frodo’s stubborn resistance. Merry summoned his remaining strength and carried his cousin back to the bed, sitting him down once again on the edge. He stood in front of him in silence.
Finally Frodo looked up, although his eyes were not clearly trained on his cousin. Merry reached out and backhanded him viciously across the face, drawing fresh blood. “YOU ARE AN IDIOT!” He screamed in Frodo’s face. “LOOK AT ME, MY LITTLE WHORE!”
Frodo did not react to the pain. He looked calmly at Merry, his eyes devoid of tears, fear, or emotion.
“Look at me,” Merry whispered, a grim smile on his face.
Frodo’s eyes sharpened, their focus returning. He stared at Merry as if he were the only thing in the room…or in the world.
“It’s always been you and me,” Merry continued softly. “Ever since Brandy Hall, we were meant to be together; ever since we were children, stealing apples from Farmer Maggot, or mushrooms from Tom Goodbody, we were a team, Frodo. Your parents got rid of you, my parents got rid of you, Bilbo didn’t want you, Gandalf used you and tricked you and,” he grinned, “Sam obviously doesn’t like sluts.”
Frodo continued to stare at him, unblinking.
Merry smiled. “Finally, you are listening. I repeat. I am the only one to take pity on you, to love you, to care for you. I am the one hobbit who will never leave you.” So intense was Merry’s voice that he had to stop for a moment, panting with exhaustion and emotion.
Then Merry pulled Frodo up off the bed. He wrapped his arms tightly around his cousin, kissing him hard, thrusting his tongue into Frodo’s mouth with wild abandon and hunger. He grabbed Frodo’s buttocks, pinching them without mercy, running his fingers inside his cleft. Frodo accepted everything, standing passively, without protest.
His eyes glinting, Merry reached down into Frodo’s groin and fondled him carelessly, watching for any sign of defiance or resistance. Frodo’s lower lip trembled slightly but he never moved; his blue eyes were downcast, dull with acceptance and resignation.
“Excellent.” Said Merry as he reached for Frodo’s breeches, folded over the back of the chair. He bent down and helped Frodo put them on, buttoning up the buttons himself. Merry picked up the chain with the Ring and placed it around Frodo’s neck. Then he gave his cousin a loving kiss. “You have earned these privileges, my dearest Frodo. Now, with our sweet Pippin, we can be a real family. And I will be its head, to be obeyed in all things.”
Merry sighed, holding Frodo out at arm’s length. “Frodo-love, will you cast off your former life of sorrow and embrace happiness in your new, loving family?”
Frodo stared at Merry, his vision clearing. There was nothing else in his worthless world or his hopeless life—all he had was the hobbit before him—all he would ever want or need. Merry. He smiled lovingly at his cousin.
“Good,” said Merry, warmly returning his smile. “But I want you to say it, love.”
Merry’s will was relentless now, unassailable, his eyes searing into Frodo’s. “Do you trust me, Frodo Baggins, and will you obey me in all things?”
Frodo reached for Merry’s hand as he slipped to the floor on his knees. He brought the hand to his lips and kissed it with such sweet submission that Merry’s eyes welled up with tears. Seeing the ringbearer on his knees to him, with the sparkling, golden Ring against his bare chest, was almost more than Merry could endure. His groin swelled against his breeches and for a minute he couldn’t breathe, so strong was his lust for everything this vision represented.
Then Frodo looked up at him in adoration, his cornflower blue eyes dry and fully focused. “Yes, Merry,” he said, with all the sincerity in his heart, “I trust you and I will obey you...in all things.”
***
Merry knelt down, weeping with joy, and embraced his cousin. “At last, at last,” he whispered, “I have you.” He picked Frodo up off the floor and laid him gently on the bed. “And I will build a new Frodo from these terrible ashes.”
Frodo turned over and smiled, closing his eyes. “I love you, Merry,” he murmured, almost too quietly to hear.
Merry picked up the sheet and laid it lovingly over his cousin, then he tumbled into bed beside him. “I love you too, Frodo,” he whispered, placing his arm around Frodo’s shoulder. He snuggled up close, lying contentedly against Frodo’s back, his face lost in his beautiful curls.
***
And that was how Pippin found them later as he marched Sam down the hall, hands tied behind his back, clad only in his underwear. Sam’s head was aching, having been knocked out a second time by the young hobbit. Pippin was wearing Sam’s clothes and a good deal of specially sewn padding to fill them out. On his back he carried Sam’s backpack and on his head was Sam’s large, wide-brimmed, gardener’s hat.
Author: Celandine Goodbody
Email: CelandineG@aol.com
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash content, some nonconsensual situations, strong language, violence, angst
Pairing: M/F,
Category: Slash, AU, angst,
Feedback: Yes
Summary: Merry completes the breaking of Frodo during a post-cellar confrontation
Disclaimer: The author claims no legal rights to the characters, settings, situations, or other characteristics that are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, their licensees, or others and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money or other remuneration is sought or received.
Copying: This fanfiction is available only for the private enjoyment of RATM readers. Please ask permission before copying or re-posting elsewhere.
A/N: This chapter was my first attempt at slash and was inspired by Emma’s early-on request for ideas. It is a stand-alone chapter hypothesizing another technique that Merry might have used to break Frodo (weakened by his sensory deprivation in the root cellar). Although not integral to the main story line, it is posted for everyone’s interest.
*Please note that this is not a sequel to my previously posted alternate slash chapter, Final Desecration, and it is meant to stand independently as a totally different method of "Frodo-breaking".*
This work includes strong language, sexual scenes involving hobbit slash pairings and some non-con. Please don’t read it if this offends you. Many, many thanks to Emma, my light of Earendil, for her wonderful support and encouragement throughout this process—and for letting me *play*. –Celandine
RATM
Many Desertions
By
Celandine Goodbody
Merry laid Frodo down on the soft bed and removed the ropes that had long held his cousin prisoner—deprived of his senses, cold and hungry, lonely and desperate. He stood back in silence, watching for a long time as Frodo lay fully conscious, unclothed, and motionless on the bed, waiting submissively for someone else to act. His face was pallid under the blindfold and his limbs were striped with welts where he had struggled against the bonds until rage and reason were forgotten things.
Nodding in satisfaction, Merry leaned over and removed the waxy plugs, gently caressing the outline of his cousin’s pointed ears. “Frodo,” he whispered softly, “it’s your Merry.”
So long in silence, Frodo jumped at the sounds but he made no attempt to move; instead, he let out a series of small whimpers, his breath coming in ragged spurts.
“I have given you back your hearing,” said Merry, “and now I will let you see.” He removed the thick blindfold, simultaneously covering Frodo’s eyes with his hand. “All right, love, open your eyes now, very carefully.” Merry’s hand hovered protectively, shading the light.
Frodo’s black lashes fluttered and his eyes, so long in darkness, were dilated and teary. He blinked several times as his pupils slowly constricted and he began to focus on the one thing his cousin wanted him to see after so many days of sensory deprivation.
Hunger and thirst forgotten, Frodo reached up for Merry, his weakened hands slipping and grasping at his cousin’s arms. “M…er…ry…M..erry…Merry… Merry…Merry…Merry,” his long-disused voice repeated his cousin’s name hysterically, faster and faster, his dry throat rasping and gagging with the effort to speak.
“Hush, love,” Merry whispered, sitting down on the bed. He picked Frodo up and held him in his arms. “I’m here. I’m here, my sweet.” Merry finger-combed his cousin’s soft curls, speaking to him as if he were a child. “Hush.”
Frodo was hyperventilating as he curled in closer, nuzzling himself deep into Merry’s chest, feeling his warmth, entwining his fingers tightly in his clothing. “Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry…” He kept repeating the name that was now his mantra, his only link to sanity.
Merry took a deep breath, planning the next step in a carefully orchestrated plan. He rocked Frodo back and forth, singing a soft lullaby—the same childhood song Frodo’s mother had sung to him. “Listen, sweetheart,” Merry said. “You didn’t want me to sing it, remember? You were quite angry with me, saying it was only for you and your mother. You hurt your Merry, you know. You made me cry.”
“No.” Frodo looked up at Merry with swirling pools of tears in his eyes. He buried himself in Merry’s shirt. “No, no, no…ours, Merry, ours.” Frodo’s voice rose frantically, desperate to please the one who had saved him from the darkness.
“Hush, child.” Merry continued to rock his cousin, pressing Frodo’s face to his chest, blocking his voice for a minute. “Hush.” He hummed more of the pretty tune, enjoying it, savoring this moment of peace before the final storm.
“So…now you understand,” he whispered into Frodo’s ear. “Good. Your time in the cellar must have helped you. This song is ours, because I love you.”
“You love me.” Frodo repeated tonelessly, his head still buried in Merry’s clothing.
Merry lifted Frodo’s chin so he was forced to look him in the eyes. “Your mother didn’t love you Frodo.” He spoke slowly, in his most serious voice. “You must understand that too.”
Frodo’s expression was confused and disoriented but his eyes showed that he had understood well enough.
“She left you all alone!” Merry said harshly. “To go begging to the Brandybucks for sustenance!”
Frodo turned away but Merry grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up as he spat out the words. “A poor relation we had to take in, a bloody beggar that nobody wanted!”
Frodo stared at him blankly.
“You idiot!” Merry held his cousin out at arm’s length and backhanded him across the mouth. “She left you ALONE.”
“NO!” Frodo screamed. “I don’t want to be alone!” He grabbed Merry in desperation and his cousin once again enveloped him, murmuring soft, soothing sounds. After a time, Frodo looked up into Merry’s relentless gaze, his eyes large with realization. “She didn’t love me.” Frodo’s voice was stronger and there was inflection in his tone.
Merry held his smile in check. “No, my sweet, she didn’t. Finally, you understand. You are an odd, strange little hobbit that nobody wanted. Even my mother didn’t want you! Why do you think she sent you to Bilbo? Even he couldn’t stand you. He left Hobbiton to get away from you, and he was an old man who should have been happy at home.”
“Bilbo?” Frodo’s weakness precluded any self-control. He began to cry like a baby.
Merry held him close. “Hush, hush…I love you, Frodo, you don’t need anyone else.” He whispered the words softly in his cousin’s ear, making the moment intensely intimate. In spite of himself, Merry was touched by the pitiful emotions, almost believing his own words as he held his sobbing cousin close to his chest.
He took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Calm down now, love, everything will be all right.” Merry caressed the tear-stained face, his own vision also blurred by tears. “Look at us, Frodo, this is no time for weeping but a time for celebration...of your new life.”
Frodo’s chest was heaving as he stared at Merry like a drowning hobbit would a life preserver. He clung to his cousin even harder, as if he would never let him go.
Merry sniffled a few times and fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. “Just a minute, love.” He gently laid Frodo down on the pillows but his cousin sprung up and grabbed onto him, whimpering unintelligible sounds.
“Lie down!”
Frodo immediately let go and fell into the pillows. “Yes, Merry,” he said quietly, his chest rising and falling with quick, rapid breaths.
Almost there, Merry thought, smoothly bringing his emotions into check as he rubbed his swollen eyes. He leaned down and used the handkerchief on Frodo’s teary face. “I have some nice things for you, Cousin. Are you hungry?”
Frodo’s jaw dropped and his eyes danced at the thought of food after so many days.
Merry reached over to the nightstand and poured a glass of water. He held Frodo in his arms and put the glass to his lips. “Just a small sip, love.”
His hands at his sides, Frodo sighed with pleasure as he drank what Merry would allow, choking a bit as the glass was removed. He looked up at his cousin with love and gratitude. “Thank-you, Merry.”
“You’re very welcome, love.”
As Merry turned and put the glass down, his eyes were caught by the gleaming, golden Ring with its silver chain, lying on the table. He stared at it with a mixture of fear and hunger, knowing its power and longing to be part of it. That will come, he thought, but for now it can stay there. For he would not brook any complications or take any chances. He was too close to his goal.
Forcing his eyes from the Ring, Merry turned to a dish of fancy chocolates and picked one up. He slowly brought the sweet to Frodo’s lips, allowing the overwhelming richness to assail his senses. Frodo’s eyes grew larger but, much to Merry’s satisfaction, he didn’t move.
“You may eat it, Frodo.”
Frodo opened his lips and Merry fed him the chocolate, bit by bit, slowly pushing it into his mouth, pressing it onto his tongue. Frodo closed his eyes in ecstasy as he tasted the lush, buttery chocolate. His hands closed into tight fists and his feet stretched out as if his whole body had been struck by lightening.
“Hmmm, so good, Frodo,” purred Merry as he rubbed the chocolate around in Frodo’s mouth with his finger. “Relax, Cousin, enjoy. You deserve it, you’ve been sooooo good.”
Frodo’s eyes remained closed as he sunk more deeply into the pillows, murmuring small sounds of pleasure. Merry swirled the sweetness around, letting the confection break apart and spread throughout his mouth. Frodo sighed with delight as he swallowed but Merry’s finger stayed inside, exploring, caressing the sensitive, moist depths. Frodo curled his tongue around the finger, sucking it like a babe, extracting the last of the sweet, sugary taste.
Merry moved his finger in and out, sensuously rubbing Frodo’s lips, letting him fondle and suck it as he relaxed further into the pillows, sighing with a primordial kind of delight. Absentmindedly, Merry gazed over Frodo’s nude body, lying unbound and quiet on the bed. He marveled at the sheer, alabaster beauty of his weakened cousin—a stark, glowing, inner beauty—ethereal almost, only enhanced by deprivation. His eyes were drawn to the brand on Frodo’s hip, nicely healed and permanent. B is for Brandybuck, he thought. Frodo is mine.
Merry leaned down, breathing into Frodo’s ear. “You are soooo beautiful, so sweet and lovable.” He gently pulled his finger from Frodo’s mouth and immediately followed with a soft, lingering kiss. Frodo fell deeper into the goosedown, his rich, full lips, soft and yielding.
The whole sensation gave Merry unexpected goosebumps. Striving to control himself, he caressed Frodo’s lips with his own, gently kneading them, nipping and sucking lightly on the sweet skin, tasting the remnants of the chocolate. Finally, he parted them gently with his tongue.
Frodo’s eyes sprung open. “Merry?” He pulled away in confusion, licking his lips, as if he had just awoken from a disturbing dream. “What are you doing?”
Merry leaned back, weighing his words carefully. “I want to show you…how much I love you.”
Frodo sat up further and leaned against the headboard. He looked down at his body as if noticing his nakedness for the first time. There was a crumpled sheet by his side and he pulled it up to his waist.
Merry angrily grabbed the sheet and tore it from the bed, tossing it onto a nearby chair. “Frodo, for Eru’s sake, I’ve seen every inch of you a dozen times over.” He kissed his cousin lightly on the lips. “Besides, you’ve not yet earned the privilege to cover yourself. It will be granted when you are obedient to my touch.”
“But,” Frodo’s eyes teared up again, “I’ve never done anything like…I mean, we’re cousins, Merry, I don’t want…”
Merry reached back and slapped him across the face. “If I want to touch you, you will submit,” he shouted harshly, “and have no opinion about it!”
Frodo grimaced at the sensation of pain, abnormally intensified after so many days of sensory deprivation. He made a small sound, full of tension.
“Trust and obedience will make you happy,” continued Merry, his voice soft again. “In all things.” He leaned back and slapped Frodo again, harder this time, his eyes calculating his cousin’s reaction.
“Ooww!” Frodo yelled loudly, a shade of anger in his voice. He lifted his hand and rubbed his cheek.
Merry frowned, pushing the hand down to his side. “Too much will, Frodo, you are not yet accepting.”
“But it hurts, Merry. Why…”
Merry hit him again, cracking his lip. This time Frodo was silent, his only response, a single tear trickling down his cheek.
Merry smiled as be bent over and wiped the tear away. “Better, Cousin.”
Frodo started to say something but Merry put his finger to his cousin’s mouth, silencing him. Then his fingers began to trace over Frodo’s bleeding lips, slipping inside them, softly caressing their moist, internal surface. Frodo closed his eyes and leaned into the affectionate touch; it was so much better than pain and hitting.
Smiling, Merry moved in closer, whispering soft, soothing things. He gently licked the outside of his cousin’s ear, slowly making his way up to the exquisitely sensitive tip. He lingered there for a long time, tantalizing, nipping and licking, sending helpless shivers of pleasure through Frodo’s body.
Merry wrapped his arms around his cousin affectionately, pulling him onto his lap, treating his other ear to the same delicious sensations. Then he wrapped his fingers deep into Frodo’s ebony curls and guided his head, pressing their lips together, controlling every nuance of the sensual kiss. He couldn’t help moaning himself as Frodo finally opened up a little, allowing him inside. After some gentle exploration, Merry withdrew and feathered little kisses on Frodo’s eyes, nose, and cheeks, moving his fingers down and teasing his cousin’s ear tips again, ever so lightly. Frodo sank into Merry’s arms, breathing heavily.
“Now isn’t that nice?” said Merry, straightening up.
“Yes…yes, Merry…” Frodo’s voice was shaking and his eyes were dark and troubled. “But I…I still don’t think it’s...”
Merry backhanded him hard, causing Frodo to fall against the headboard. “Thinking is my job. Not yours. Mine!” Merry grabbed Frodo’s arm and dragged him angrily off the bed. His cousin staggered on weakened legs but Merry held him up, pulling him by the waist into a tight embrace. “Now, you will do as I say!”
Merry licked his lips with anticipation as he reached around the back of Frodo’s head, drawing him closer. But Frodo turned away from his cousin, frowning and closing his lips tightly.
“DAMN YOU!” Merry screamed at him, losing control. “I give up!” He shoved Frodo backward onto the bed. “You worthless, ungrateful little twit…and…and…after all I’ve done for you!” He walked a few steps away and turned back to Frodo. “No wonder everyone has deserted you, you sorry excuse for a hobbit!”
Frodo lowered his head. “Not Sam,” he whispered to himself, his voice almost inaudible.
“I heard that!” yelled Merry, not bothering to hide his irritation. “You flatter yourself, Cousin. That stupid gardener doesn’t give a…” Shaking his head in disgust, he walked back toward bed.
Frodo cringed, covering his face with his hands.
“No, Frodo.” Merry lowered his voice but the menace remained, the rage, palpable. “I won’t bother to hit you. You’re just not worth my time anymore.” Merry grabbed Frodo’s arm and pulled him off the bed.
“Pippin!” Merry shouted for his younger cousin as he dragged Frodo, stumbling and falling, across the room. When they reached the doorway, he pulled Frodo’s arms behind his back and held his wrists together. “You’re going back to the cellar and then the rest of us...”
“NO!!”
“…Are going home to Brandy Hall…for good.”
“NO, NO, NO, NO!!!” Frodo was screaming hysterically. He fell limp to the floor. “No, please, Merry, I’ll be good.” Frodo grabbed Merry’s legs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t think, I won’t do anything, I love you, please, Merry, please don’t. I couldn’t BEAR IT.” With that he collapsed, hyperventilating, sobbing and babbling against Merry’s hairy feet.
Merry Brandybuck was hyperventilating himself as he smiled down at his cousin. Very close now. He dragged Frodo back to the bed, sitting him down on the edge. As Frodo continued to sob, Merry hauled back and slapped him as hard as he could. “Stop it!”
Frodo shuddered as he looked up, but he managed to stop crying.
Merry carefully observed his passive expression. Good. Then he knelt down and took Frodo in his arms. He gently wiped his tears away and kissed his cousin with all the love and tenderness he could manage. This time Frodo opened up to him, slowly at first but then willingly and without restraint. Merry explored him relentlessly and as their passion increased, Frodo timidly stretched his own tongue into Merry’s mouth. Merry broke the kiss and stood up. Very good.
“Frodo,” he said, his arms folded across his chest, “I don’t know why I’m so soft when it comes to you but I’ll give you one more chance.”
Frodo’s reddened eyes followed him as Merry stepped back, gazing lovingly at his cousin. Then he slowly began to unlace his shirt.
***
Pippin ignored Merry’s shout as he had been told to do. He sat nervously in the parlor watching the noisy old clock tick off the minutes. Twenty minutes, Merry had told him to wait.
The young hobbit stood and began to pace up and down, stirring up dust with each step. How he wished this was over, that they could just live happily together, right here at Crickhollow. No shouting, no beatings, no more tying up poor Cousin Frodo or Sam. Pippin prayed that Frodo would understand soon but he didn’t think Sam would ever get it straight. He shivered, thinking what more might happen to them and he was glad it wasn’t up to him. His job was to help Merry. He fingered the ridges of the small brand on his shoulder. B is for Brandybuck. Merry had chosen him, claimed him as his very own. Pippin smiled with pride. He would obey Merry in all things, no matter how hard or distasteful. Soon they would be a family, just like Merry said.
Pippin went over to the coffee table and checked the soft, padded material that he and Merry had carefully prepared and practiced with. And Sam’s wide brimmed, gardener’s hat. That was very important. Merry would certainly punish him if he forgot the hat. He looked back at the clock. Fifteen more minutes.
***
Like a fly in a trap, Frodo watched Merry pull his shirt over his shoulders. Looking at Merry’s bare chest, he became acutely aware of his own nakedness and moved his hands protectively over his groin.
“No,” said Merry softly and pulled his cousin’s hands back to his sides.
Frodo then sat without moving, eyes closed, terrified to commit any offense that would land him back in the cellar. After a time, he opened his eyes to see that Merry had removed the rest of his clothing. He swallowed hard.
Merry leaned over and ran his fingers slowly through Frodo’s hair. “You are mine, Frodo Baggins, body and soul,” he whispered as he twisted Frodo’s dark curls until he yelped. Then Merry sat down beside him, pulling him close until Frodo could feel his hot, rapid breathing. Unable to help himself, Frodo gazed into Merry’s beautiful ashen eyes, bright with desire. He was faltering, falling into them, down and down on a slippery slope with no purchase or lifeline. Frodo leaned into Merry’s kiss, let Merry’s warm hands trail down his naked body into his most private regions. Boneless, Frodo melted against his cousin, resigned now, to his fate.
Merry took Frodo’s hand and kissed his fingertips, one by one. In a single motion he licked them moist then moved them in hard circles over Frodo’s own pale nipples. Chills erupted down Frodo’s spine as he felt the sensations, both from his own fingers and from his tender nubs, now pink and upright. Merry leaned in to kiss Frodo’s nipples, expertly pulling, sucking, and licking them erect. Frodo moaned helplessly with pleasure. Merry smiled as he dragged Frodo’s fingers slowly down his cousin’s stomach to the pink, tender brand on his hip.
“B” whispered Merry. “What does it stand for, Frodo?”
Frodo’s mind was swirling out of control as his body betrayed him more and more. He could feel his arousal growing and his cheeks flushed scarlet, knowing that Merry could see it too. His head swam in passion and hormones. He couldn’t think anymore. He had promised Merry he wouldn’t think, he didn’t want to think, he had to please Merry. He had to.
“What does it stand for, love?” Merry’s voice was soothing and patient as he guided his cousin’s moist fingertips over the smooth ridges.
“Br…Br…Brandybuck,” whispered Frodo, his voice shaking. “B is for Brandybuck.”
“And what does that mean to you, Frodo?”
“I…I don’t know.” Frodo’s fingers trembled.
Merry squeezed them hard, causing Frodo to wince. “Yes, you do. Branding means…?” He raised his eyebrows. His voice was in a lower register, barely under control.
Frodo was breathing raggedly. “Ah, I…Ah…Oh, Merry, I don’t…” His eyes squinted in pain. “Wait, wait…possession, yes. Branding…means…” He smiled up at Merry. “Ownership.”
“Very good.” Merry returned the smile, relaxing his grip. “You understand, now, that I own you.”
Frodo was silent
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND!” Merry let go of Frodo’s hand and raised his arm up high.
“Yes, yes, yes, Merry.” Frodo answered hysterically. “Don’t, please. I do…I…understand. Just…don’t…hurt me anymore.”
“Whether you get hurt is up to you, Frodo,” said Merry evenly. “It always has been.”
Merry bent down and kissed him tenderly on the shoulder. “I only want to love you, to worship your beautiful body.” He ran his fingers slowly along the graceful line of Frodo hip, causing him to inhale sharply.
“Your job is to submit, Cousin,” he whispered sensuously, “without thought or hesitation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Merry,” said Frodo, his breathing rate increasing.
“And will you submit?” Merry asked him, kissing Frodo slowly and lovingly, this time on the other shoulder. Without waiting for an answer, he kissed his way down Frodo’s damaged back, licking and nipping at the whip marks, exciting shimmering sensations of pain and pleasure.
Frodo sighed heavily, closing his eyes and savoring the affection so missing in his life. His heart was beating fast, his skin, moist with sweat. He was dizzy from hunger and a longing for love so deep he could barely stand it. So deep that when it came to Merry, he could no longer separate pleasure and pain. It was all just Merry. He was branded, owned, it was no longer his decision anyway.
For the last time, deep within the cobwebs of Frodo’s damaged soul, a small voice quivered in defiance. But like a wisp of smoke spread on a windy highway, it swirled slowly into widening circles and dissolved into nothingness.
“Yes, Merry,” Frodo said finally, his voice a whisper, “I will submit.”
***
Merry reached out and caressed Frodo’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “That was the right answer, love.” He spoke softly, smiling into Frodo’s eyes.
Then Merry grabbed Frodo by the waist, turning and bending him over. He spread his cousin’s legs wide and lightly ran his fingernails along the soft skin of Frodo’s inner thighs, finding all the right places to give pleasure. Frodo gasped over and over, trying to control himself, trying not to move or displease his cousin. Merry’s hands continued to explore, up and down, between his legs, finally running over Frodo’s pale, unmarked buttocks.
Frodo twisted around, his eyes growing larger. “Please….”
Merry laughed at the look on his face. “Come, my love,” he said, grabbing Frodo and pulling him backward onto the bed. “It’s time to learn the joys of obedience.”
They tumbled over each other, their arms and legs intertwining. Frodo’s body tingled with helpless passion as Merry encircled him with his strong arms, kissing and nipping at his neck.
“Don’t move, Fro,” whispered Merry, breathing heavily into his sensitive ears.
In sensuous foreplay Merry explored his cousin, relentlessly, mercilessly with his knowledgeable fingers. Frodo lay still, fearful of punishment yet trapped nonetheless in his own reactions; and soon he knew nothing but Merry’s touch. His fingers were everywhere, between Frodo’s thighs, caressing his genitals, running over his buttocks, separating him from reality. There was no hunger, thirst, or pain anymore, only acceptance. Merry was his whole world now; he belonged to Merry. There was no reason to worry. Frodo sighed. It felt so good.
But Merry was not interested in Frodo feeling good. This was a test of obedience and it was time to up the ante. Merry propped himself against the pillows and pulled Frodo over his lap, holding him down with one hand. “Now, just do as I say,” he whispered. “I’m going to show you some things.”
Frodo was hyperventilating as he grabbed the bedclothes with his hands. Yes, Merry. He could only mouthed the words.
Merry began to rub his cousin’s scarred back, scratching apart the soft scabs, watching the gooseflesh rise on Frodo’s arms and feeling his arousal growing against his skin. “Pain and pleasure,” Merry said, breathlessly, “can ride on each other, Fro, feel it.” He pulled and tore at the healing welts until Frodo cried out but even he didn’t know which one he was crying for.
“Hush, love,” Merry whispered soothingly as one hand traveled lower, its strong fingers seizing his cousin’s buttocks and squeezing hard while the other continued ravaging his back.
“Spread your legs.”
Frodo inhaled, moving his legs apart.
“More, love.” Merry squeezed his back hard.
Frodo yelped, moving his legs again.
Still dissatisfied, Merry moved one leg over Frodo’s thighs, shoving him even further apart and tight to the mattress. Then Merry reached up and ran his fingers slowly across Frodo’s lips, feeling his cousin’s, hot, helpless breaths coming faster and faster. “Lick them, Frodo,” he ordered.
Frodo timidly stuck out his tongue and licked his cousin’s fingertips. Then Merry thrust them into Frodo’s mouth and, without being told, Frodo sucked on them as if they were the sweetest fruit in Buckland. Merry shifted position slightly and bent down, kissing Frodo on each cheek of his buttocks, licking and nipping, listening to his cousin’s stifled moans. Without warning, Merry withdrew his moist fingers and trailed them down the small of Frodo’s back and into his cleft. Frodo stiffened and his eyes enlarged as he gasped, suddenly terrified at what was coming.
Merry’s able fingers soon found their small, soft target. “Ah, very nice, Fro,” he said, letting out his breath. “Very nice indeed.”
Frodo squirmed helplessly. Oh, by Eru… “No,” he whimpered, wiggling free of Merry’s hand.
“Yes!” Merry hissed, his tone low, dark, and guttural. He was panting hard with excitement as he knelt up and pushed Frodo firmly against the pillows. Ignoring Frodo’s cry, he dug his fingernails into his cousin’s buttocks, drawing rivulets of blood as he parted his cheeks viciously. “Don’t you dare move, slut!”
This time it really hurt but Frodo lay still, clutching at the sheet, too afraid to do anything but submit as Merry prepared to take his pleasure. And it was then that he knew that Merry had been right all along. Frodo Baggins was a worthless slut, spread out and submitting, unworthy of any decent hobbit’s love. He was glad his parents were dead and Bilbo was gone so they would never know what he had become.
Suddenly, a loud gasp came from the hall outside the open door. Frodo raised his head, twisting out of Merry’s hands and knocking him over. The two of them were painfully aroused, flushed and breathing hard, a tangle of naked legs and arms. Frodo grabbed on to Merry and stared, wide-eyed and horrified, at the hobbits in the doorway.
***
Pippin’s face was scarlet as he stood holding Sam’s arm. He hadn’t been expecting anything like that. Merry had told him to take Sam outside exactly twenty minutes after he called out Pippin’s name, and then he was to…but he…oh, this was awful.
Sam’s face was just as red and his ears were burning as he stood in the open doorway, his hands tied behind his back. He stared at Frodo, eyes wide, shock and disgust, the first things on his face. Well, they’re sure havin’ a good time while I’m tied up in the dark like a sack o’taters. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.
If Sam had been more aware and less shocked, he would have seen the pain, humiliation, and abject shame in Frodo’s eyes, the look of helplessness and despair. But before he could register that or even think about it, Pippin shoved him down the hall and out the door, just as Merry had told him to.
***
Merry straddled his cousin’s abdomen, holding him down on the bed amid flailing arms and legs. He clamped his hand hard over Frodo’s mouth to keep him from screaming. In his weakened condition, Frodo was no match for his cousin, so there he stayed until Sam and Pippin were well outside.
“Listen to me!” Merry shouted at Frodo, who was struggling senselessly under him. “Stop it this minute!”
Frodo stared up at him, screeching impotently under Merry’s hand, his eyes wet with tears and his face stricken in horror.
“Listen to me, just listen.” Merry panted with the effort as he squeezed his cousin harder against the bed.
Exhausted, Frodo finally stopped struggling but Merry kept his hand over his mouth. “Did you see his face, Frodo, my little fuckhobbit?” Merry grinned, raising his eyebrows. “Sam was really disgusted with you, wasn’t he? I wonder how long he was there, just watching us.”
Frodo screamed silently under Merry’s firm hand and started struggling again.
“Well,” said Merry, barely containing his laughter. “I may as well let Sam go, now that he finally understands what you are all about. Easy enough to find work elsewhere, I imagine. One master’s the same as the next to those people.” Gingerly, Merry lessened his pressure on Frodo’s mouth. “Are you going to behave?”
Frodo nodded and Merry carefully lifted his hand. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss where it had been. “We don’t need the likes of him, do we, love.”
Frodo closed his eyes as more tears ran heedlessly down his cheeks. “Sam,” he whimpered, almost inaudibly. “I can explain.”
“I don’t think so.” Merry chuckled. “You’re my whore, Frodo, even your stupid Sam could figure that one out.”
Merry left Frodo in a weeping heap and crawled off the bed. He pulled on his breeches with a sigh, wishing that Pippin had waited ten more minutes. He walked over to the window and shoved it open. “Pippin! You can let Sam go…if he wants to leave, that is. Or he can stay here with Mr. Frodo. It’s up to him.”
He turned back to Frodo, who was sitting up in bed, looking at him. “Frodo-love,” said Merry cheerfully, “you’re a mess.” He crossed the room and took Frodo by the arm, dragging him to the side of the bed. Using the discarded sheet, he dried Frodo’s body and swollen, teary face, removing the remnants of crusted blood. Then he pulled a comb out of his pocket and smoothed out the tangles in his cousin’s silky hair.
Finally, he leaned down and embraced Frodo with a gentle hug. “Don’t cry any more, Fro,” he said, gazing into his beautiful cornflower eyes. “Merry is here and he loves you so much.” He rubbed his cousin’s cheek gently with the back of his hand. “And I will never leave you.”
Frodo slumped in his arms, feeling the world swirling around and around, growing smaller and smaller. “Oh, Sam,” he whispered, stifling another sob.
“Now, we’ll have no more of that,” said Merry. “He doesn’t care about you. Come and see.”
Merry half carried Frodo over to the window where they both saw Sam walking slowly down the path that led to the road. He carried his backpack with all his possessions, including the noisy cooking utensils, and he was wearing the same large brimmed hat that Merry had given him when they first arrived.
“SAM!” Frodo screeched through the open window, his eyes a blur of tears. “I’M SORRY, SAM!! PLEASE COME BACK, I NEED YOU, SAM, DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEEEASE!!”
Sam raised his hand in a gesture of contempt as he kept walking down the path, faster and faster. Frodo continued to scream and plead, becoming more incoherent and hysterical. Finally, the gardener disappeared without looking back, through the gate and onto the road.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” said Merry, closing the window with a thud.
Frodo sunk slowly to the floor, his legs twisted underneath him. “Sam,” he whispered under his breath.
“Sam has deserted you, too, Frodo,” said Merry, harshly. “Just like everyone else. Of course he’ll blab it all over the Shire, now.” He laughed out loud. “Merry and his little Frodo-slut. We won’t be able to show our faces anywhere after this.” He laughed again. “But who cares, we don’t need any of them, we have each other.”
Frodo didn’t respond. His head bent lower as he sunk into the floor.
Merry stood still, watching him for a minute, then he walked back and sat down wearily next to the nightstand. He stared at the golden Ring with apprehension and a bit of self-satisfaction. It seemed so small and harmless, sitting quietly there on the table. Merry took a deep breath and his whole body shuddered.
Shaking his head, he picked up a chocolate and pressed it against his lips, inhaling the intoxicating scent. His eyes were bright as he pushed it into his mouth, savoring it slowly, chewing, sucking, watching his cousin’s lifeless form on the floor underneath the window. Finally, he stood and walked over to the spot where Frodo lay unmoving.
“And now,” said Merry, as he knelt down beside his cousin, “the final exam.”
***
Merry lifted Frodo’s head and saw at last what he had longed to see all these many days. The once beautiful eyes were clouded and unfocused, not a trace of defiance remained. Merry grinned with delight and kissed Frodo on the forehead. Then he picked him up in his arms, feeling the exhaustion of the complex interrogations, the draining anger, and the stress of Frodo’s stubborn resistance. Merry summoned his remaining strength and carried his cousin back to the bed, sitting him down once again on the edge. He stood in front of him in silence.
Finally Frodo looked up, although his eyes were not clearly trained on his cousin. Merry reached out and backhanded him viciously across the face, drawing fresh blood. “YOU ARE AN IDIOT!” He screamed in Frodo’s face. “LOOK AT ME, MY LITTLE WHORE!”
Frodo did not react to the pain. He looked calmly at Merry, his eyes devoid of tears, fear, or emotion.
“Look at me,” Merry whispered, a grim smile on his face.
Frodo’s eyes sharpened, their focus returning. He stared at Merry as if he were the only thing in the room…or in the world.
“It’s always been you and me,” Merry continued softly. “Ever since Brandy Hall, we were meant to be together; ever since we were children, stealing apples from Farmer Maggot, or mushrooms from Tom Goodbody, we were a team, Frodo. Your parents got rid of you, my parents got rid of you, Bilbo didn’t want you, Gandalf used you and tricked you and,” he grinned, “Sam obviously doesn’t like sluts.”
Frodo continued to stare at him, unblinking.
Merry smiled. “Finally, you are listening. I repeat. I am the only one to take pity on you, to love you, to care for you. I am the one hobbit who will never leave you.” So intense was Merry’s voice that he had to stop for a moment, panting with exhaustion and emotion.
Then Merry pulled Frodo up off the bed. He wrapped his arms tightly around his cousin, kissing him hard, thrusting his tongue into Frodo’s mouth with wild abandon and hunger. He grabbed Frodo’s buttocks, pinching them without mercy, running his fingers inside his cleft. Frodo accepted everything, standing passively, without protest.
His eyes glinting, Merry reached down into Frodo’s groin and fondled him carelessly, watching for any sign of defiance or resistance. Frodo’s lower lip trembled slightly but he never moved; his blue eyes were downcast, dull with acceptance and resignation.
“Excellent.” Said Merry as he reached for Frodo’s breeches, folded over the back of the chair. He bent down and helped Frodo put them on, buttoning up the buttons himself. Merry picked up the chain with the Ring and placed it around Frodo’s neck. Then he gave his cousin a loving kiss. “You have earned these privileges, my dearest Frodo. Now, with our sweet Pippin, we can be a real family. And I will be its head, to be obeyed in all things.”
Merry sighed, holding Frodo out at arm’s length. “Frodo-love, will you cast off your former life of sorrow and embrace happiness in your new, loving family?”
Frodo stared at Merry, his vision clearing. There was nothing else in his worthless world or his hopeless life—all he had was the hobbit before him—all he would ever want or need. Merry. He smiled lovingly at his cousin.
“Good,” said Merry, warmly returning his smile. “But I want you to say it, love.”
Merry’s will was relentless now, unassailable, his eyes searing into Frodo’s. “Do you trust me, Frodo Baggins, and will you obey me in all things?”
Frodo reached for Merry’s hand as he slipped to the floor on his knees. He brought the hand to his lips and kissed it with such sweet submission that Merry’s eyes welled up with tears. Seeing the ringbearer on his knees to him, with the sparkling, golden Ring against his bare chest, was almost more than Merry could endure. His groin swelled against his breeches and for a minute he couldn’t breathe, so strong was his lust for everything this vision represented.
Then Frodo looked up at him in adoration, his cornflower blue eyes dry and fully focused. “Yes, Merry,” he said, with all the sincerity in his heart, “I trust you and I will obey you...in all things.”
***
Merry knelt down, weeping with joy, and embraced his cousin. “At last, at last,” he whispered, “I have you.” He picked Frodo up off the floor and laid him gently on the bed. “And I will build a new Frodo from these terrible ashes.”
Frodo turned over and smiled, closing his eyes. “I love you, Merry,” he murmured, almost too quietly to hear.
Merry picked up the sheet and laid it lovingly over his cousin, then he tumbled into bed beside him. “I love you too, Frodo,” he whispered, placing his arm around Frodo’s shoulder. He snuggled up close, lying contentedly against Frodo’s back, his face lost in his beautiful curls.
***
And that was how Pippin found them later as he marched Sam down the hall, hands tied behind his back, clad only in his underwear. Sam’s head was aching, having been knocked out a second time by the young hobbit. Pippin was wearing Sam’s clothes and a good deal of specially sewn padding to fill them out. On his back he carried Sam’s backpack and on his head was Sam’s large, wide-brimmed, gardener’s hat.