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Something Twisted

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The road back from Imladris never seemed quite as quick as did the road on the way there. I’d practically fallen into a trance on the back of my elk, the falling leaves of the Greenwood fluttering in and out of the moonlight weaving hypnotic patterns. We must have been but a short ride from the entrance to my halls when a cry rose up behind me. My nearest guard’s horse reared up in fright, whinnying as black-fletched arrows struck out at us from the trees.

I glanced back to see a small patrol of wretched Orcs in the beginnings of combat with my caravan. Captain Galawen shouted to me, “Flee, my king! Get yourself to safety, and we’ll meet you back at the Halls!”

Dread filled me, but I nodded to her and spurred the elk into action. He didn’t need to be told twice. Galawen’s battle cry faded into the distance. As we sprinted from the battle, I heard a sickening thud, then a noise of distress as the elk tried to run faster. I saw an arrow, same as before, sticking out from his flank. “Come on,” I urged him, “We’re not far now. You’ll be healed soon, I promise.”

It was a promise short-lived, as it turned out, because before he ever saw the gates, he was shot twice more - once in the leg, to which he stumbled, and once in the neck, to which he stopped entirely.  I was left with no time to grieve. I leapt from his back, which was shuddering in heavy and pained breath, and tried to orient myself in the moment.

Before I knew which way to run, three more Orcs had appeared before me. Two seemed regular enough, misshapen and grotesque as usual, but the third was a hulking, pale thing, the likes of which I’d never seen. He rumbled something in the Black Speech to his companions, and one of them let out a cruel, barking laugh. I drew my long knife, steeling for a fight.

They were decent enough fighters, the two smaller Orcs, though I knew I would have dispatched them quickly in single combat. The pale grey brute, though, hung back barking words out to his fellows as they clashed swords with me - or perhaps they were insults directed at myself. For one moment, I found myself distracted, glancing to where he stared hungrily at me. In that single moment, the two smaller Orcs moved as one, knocking my sword arm wide while the other barrelled into my side, making me lose my balance.

I grasped at nothing, crying out, and then twisted around, bracing myself for impact. I landed on a jutting rock in the leaves, the force of the ground rising up knocking my sword from my hand. Before I could truly react, a heavy and studded leather boot stepped down on my wrist. I looked up to see the great beast of an Orc smirking down at me, his pointed teeth bared in the bright moonlight. I swallowed hard.

I was pulled from my fear by his two cackling friends. They each were trying to grasp one of my legs, and I was trying to kick them off me. I was alone, unarmed, and prone, but I hadn’t given up yet. In my struggle, the pale Orc ground the heel of his boot into my arm, making me freeze up in pain. That was all they needed to get a solid grasp on my legs.

Up until then, all I was running on was a fear for my life and sheer adrenaline. But, when those two slimy Orcs put their whole body weight into making me spread my legs, the rest of my mind caught up with the situation. As the pale Orc gathered my arms and started tying my wrists together with some rough rope he had, tears began to sting at the corners of my eyes. One of them was clawing at my travelling clothes, slashing holes in my leggings and sending lines of sharp pain down my thigh. I was using every muscle in my body to try and get free, but it was all for nothing.

A soft prayer to Mandos left my lips, begging that it be over quickly and that I find his halls with my soul intact. As I spoke, the pale Orc chuckled - a deep, gravelly sound - as though he understood. He ran the back of a clawed finger down my cheek. I let out a sob.

One of the two Orcs holding my legs apart suddenly tore at the seam of my leggings, ripping through my underclothes as well and exposing me. I renewed my efforts to close my legs, the muscles in my thighs straining against them, but all I managed to do was draw my knees a few inches closer to each other. All it gained me was laughter from my captors. The pale one barked something out and switched places with one of his smaller companions, and he batted my leg aside like a fly. The other one let go of me, no longer needed.

The pale Orc closed the gap between his hips and mine, rubbing his clothed erection against my vulnerable sex. I shut my eyes, trying to think of Elbereth, but a hard grip across my jaw from a smaller Orc forced me to face him. Slowly, agonisingly, he moved his armour and loincloth to make way for his cock. He spit in his hand and stroked himself, and I could see the huge thing throbbing and glistening as he did. I tried to pull my hands free, but I was held firmly by the smaller Orc. He placed his member against me, slowly humping me. I started crying in earnest. He lined himself up with my entrance. I trembled. He slid into me with a solid thrust. I screamed.

Immediately, I felt my Fëa twisting and contorting, trying to escape my body. His penis, hot, throbbing, felt unbearable every second it was inside me. With each thrust into me, I tried to get away, hoping that this time, I’d move enough that he’d slip out. But he held me in place and each time he hammered forward, he hit home. His pleasured grunts made it all so much worse, and I could feel my passage growing slicker against my will, simply reacting to the intrusion.

My struggles faded as my energy left me, until I was practically limp in his grasp. The wet slap of his body entering mine, the blunt pistoning grew faster and harder and deeper, his grunts turning to sharp vocalisations as he gained more pleasure from violating me. My whole body budged and shifted with each of his harsh movements. I didn’t understand why I hadn’t yet died.

He was in the throes of ecstasy, that much was clear from his face. It was an expression I’d never seen on an Orc - some mix between rage and bliss. His pale grey skin glistened with sweat, his huge, scarred hands holding my hips in place as he continued to rape me. In a blank and dull kind of fascination, I noticed that the two Orcs that were aiding his assault were far more focussed on him than on me. As far as I could tell, they weren’t even hard.

It seemed like it took hours before he let out a loud bellow into the night and I felt his seed fill me. I could do nothing but simply lay there, all but lifeless, as he pulled out of me and stood, rearranging his clothing. I half-expected the other two to take their turns with me, but they just chatted and laughed with my assaulter, then the three of them slunk into the woods, leaving me shivering and defiled on the forest floor, only a few paces from my gleaming sword, and from my dead elk.