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Cruel Adoration

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Entering the throne room of the Dark Lord was always the highest honor for the rider clad in all black. He was the Lieutenant of Barad-dûr and the mouth of Sauron himself. A sinister looking man in appearance. With priest-like vestments and a sharp, tall helmet, he cut a frightening figure, even among the ranks of Mordor.

The doors to the throne room were slowly dragged open to reveal the threatening grandeur. Ceilings of great height had been carved out of black stone, with sharp and jutting architecture. Within the cracks of the walls, molten metal had been poured, giving it the effect of veins of shining gold. The floor was glossy black and tiled with obsidian. Sinister looking lamps illuminated the chamber, which was nearly pitch black with no windows. Then, in the center of the room was the throne itself. Made of obsidian as well, the throne greatly resembled the king’s helmet, with a horned skull appearance.

On the throne sat the Lord of Mordor himself. With legs spread wide while he rested his chin against his fist, he watched his vassal slowly enter.

Going down on one knee, the man bowed his head. “My Lord, Sauron the Great. You have called upon me?”

“Ah, yes.” The king hissed. His voice was terrifying and deep. The power behind it slightly shook the tower room. “I must ask something of you.”

“Anything, My Lord.”

“You have submitted to worship me in every way. You have even cast away your human shape for me. Will you commit your body to me further?”

Without hesitation, the Lieutenant replied, “Yes, My Lord.” He couldn’t be sure what Sauron wanted, but no matter what was asked of him, he would do it eagerly. 

“Even lie with me?”

The man flinched with excitement and shock. It was too good to be true. “Your Excellency, it would be my honor.” 

“You do well.” Sauron reached up and lifted his lofty helmet from his head. As it revealed his face, his servant was a little surprised to see he had taken on a fair appearance. Long snowy hair cascaded around his face and shoulders. His skin was almost as pale, his lips a soft shade of grey. The thing that pierced his vassal to the core was the fiery gaze that seemed to bore into his very soul. The snake-like eyes burning with power and bloodlust like inextinguishable flames.

“My lord, please, do not trouble to conjure yourself a fair appearance!” He bowed his head low, his black helmet hanging heavy on his neck.

The Dark Lord set his fearsome helmet on the armrest of his throne. “You were a man once, yes? I know the desires of men. How long has it been since you have looked upon something so fair in Gorgoroth?”

It was true. The dark servant had long forgotten what fair beauty was. Everything in the accursed land was wrought with darkness and corruption. The Lieutenant himself had been corrupted by dark sorcery and the tainted language of Mordor. Even debasing himself to utter the words of the Dark Lord had disfigured his mouth.

After a moment, the man nodded. “If it pleases you, My Lord…” He kept his head low, afraid to anger his king. Despite his apprehension, even seeing such beauty had begun to wet his appetite for the soft flesh.

“It does for such a purpose.” A smirk playing at his lips, the lord of darkness descended the obsidian steps leading to his throne. He circled the man, studying him. Gently he reached out and let the tips of his sharp, armored fingers trail across the man’s shoulders. “Now then, arise and serve your master.”

A little too eagerly, the dark servant stood. He was tall in stature, but the Dark Lord was taller still.

“I am at your service, your Highness.”

Slipping his index finger under the man’s chin, he tilted it up, studying the horribly disfigured mouth. His bloodied and cracked lips were black, with scars and splits at every corner of his mouth. Such was the inevitable fate of a man who had been touched by darkness. An ardent follower who dared to utter the vile language of Mordor.

“Of course you are. You are my most loyal follower. This is why you are my favorite.” He smiled, deceptively sweet. The Lieutenant didn’t care if Sauron meant those words or not. He was ready and willing to serve his king in any and every way asked of him.

Taking his servant’s face in his hands, Sauron slowly leaned into his mouth. He pressed his lips to his in a chaste kiss. Pulling away, he studied the man’s sharp helmet before returning to his mouth, this time with more hunger. He tasted the blood on his vassal’s lips as his tongue parted them, slipping past sharp teeth into his mouth. The dark rider exhaled heavily through his nostrils as he willingly gave himself to his dark master.

Running his hands down the man’s shoulders and arms, Sauron could feel his battle hardened muscles tense from the touch. 

Without thinking, the servant slipped his gloved-hand up to caress the long pale hair spilling over his master’s shoulder. It had been so long since he had indulged in such pleasures. So long since he had felt the sensual touch of a being that wasn’t some corrupted, clawed beast. His master was anything but. He was terrifying and beautiful. The most powerful being in Middle Earth.

Smiling, amused by the soft gesture, Sauron tilted his head to the side to deepen the wet kiss. Unlike his servant, who was wearing black linen garments and robes, Sauron himself was wearing sharp, heavy armor. 

Breaking away from the kiss, slightly out of breath, Sauron caressed the man’s pale grey face.“Perhaps we should finish this in my chambers.”

“Yes…” The dark rider huffed, flashing a sharp, wide grin at the suggestion. Such an honor was rarely given to anyone.

Turning on his heels, Sauron exited the throne room, his vassal following behind eagerly.

 

The royal chambers of the Dark Lord were as extravagant as they were terrifying. More evil architecture carved from black stone. Black banners with the insignia for Mordor embroidered on them decorated the walls. Obsidian steps led to a large, four-post bed with black silk draped over it for privacy. The scent of black clove incense hung in the air and mingled with brimstone.

Once inside his chambers, Sauron summoned two servants in black hooded robes to come remove his hefty armor. He stood with his hands out at his sides as each piece was removed. 

The loyal vassal stood patiently to the side watching them strip his beloved master. Bit by bit, the king’s magnificent armor gave way to the body underneath. Robed in a finely detailed tunic of black and gold thread, his thick, muscular body seemed out of place in such garments. Whether or not his master used his true appearance, or one more fair, he did not care. Sauron was to be worshipped in any and all forms. 

The man held his breath a moment once the final piece of armor was carefully removed.  Sauron was a beautiful sight to behold. 

As one servant hung the armor upon its rack, the other brought in an ornate bottle and decanter carved from volcanic glass. The enslaved man poured a foul black liqueur into the glass and handed it to Sauron. Bringing the liquid to his lips, the Dark Lord sipped it casually as he waved away the slaves. 

“Come. It is time you undressed now.”

For a second the man hesitated. “My Lord, I am not worthy for you to look upon me. I Will remain cloaked.”

“Denying me?” Sauron shot him an annoyed look.

“No! No My Lord! Forgive me…” He begged, hastily pulling back his black hood to remove his helmet.

Setting the black glass of alcohol on an ornately carved table, Sauron stood up. Laughing cruelly, a thin smile spread across his face. “Perhaps you desire my punishment for such insolence?” He crossed the room and stood dangerously close to his follower. 

The man flinched slightly as Sauron raised his hand to him. But instead of striking, he merely brushed the exposed portion of his cheek with the back of his hand. 

“Does your king frighten you?” He whispered. 

“Of course, My Lord…” The Lieutenant happily admitted.

“Good.” Sauron seemed delighted at the fear he had brought to the surface in him. “Now, disrobe for me.”

“As you wish.” Nodding respectfully, he plucked his thorny helmet from his head. Tangled black hair tumbled to his shoulders. A blindfold of tattered black linen covered his eyes. Dark sorcery had eventually replaced his blinded eyes to see. Unbuttoning his collar, he slipped out of his black robes, revealing a scarred and pale body. 

The dark king watched with amusement as the man undressed. His shame and discomfort were especially enjoyable to him. He relished in having all the power in this exchange, caring not if this act pleased his vassal. Once the man was fully naked, he stepped forward and let his finger trail down his bare abdomen. 

“Get on the bed.” He ordered. Excitedly, the man bowed before ascending the steps. Following him, Sauron began to pull off his own kingly garments, tossing them carelessly to the floor. Walking up to where his vassal sat on the edge of the bed, he pushed him backwards, pinning him. “Now then, give your body to me.”

The king’s long white hair hung in the dark rider’s face, tickling him slightly. With a hungry look in his eyes, Sauron leaned down to kiss the scarred mouth of the man. Forcibly he spread his legs open, causing him to gasp. 

Kissing down the pale neck, Sauron hissed in his ear, “You belong to me…” This elicited a shudder from his servant. 

“Yes, My Lord…” 

Biting down on his neck hard enough to draw blood, the dark king lapped it up. His hands explored the man’s pale, muscular body. Sharp nails traced the deep scars that painted him. Scars he had long since forgotten their origins.

Finally, Sauron broke away from the intense make out session and gazed down at his temporary lover. “On your stomach.” He ordered. 

Huffing, the dark vassal turned over, ready to be used by his master. Spitting into his hand, the king stroked himself before entering. 

“Ugh…!” The man snarled low as he was forcefully penetrated from behind. It was painful and hardly pleasurable. However, the mere fact he was pleasing his Dark Lord with his own body was pleasure enough.

Letting his claws scratch at his servant’s back, Sauron began his rhythm. Painfully slow at first, but soon his movements became more violent and fast. He let a little laugh of pleasure escape his lips as he watched his follower groan and writhe in painful ecstasy. Giving into the desires of the flesh were not the king’s top priorities, but when he did he was sure to relish in them. 

Leaning down over the man’s back he kissed and nibbled at his pale flesh as he continued to thrust. His vassal moaned with pleasure at the touch of his lips. Finally, stifling a grunt, Sauron let himself release, spilling inside his servant. Pulling out, he rolled over onto his back next to the man.

Catching his breath, the king smirked at his partner who began to painfully recover. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

“My Lord?” The man looked at him surprised.

“I haven’t finished with you. Lay with me until I recover enough for another session.”

“Yes, sir!” The man didn’t bother to hide his elation at the thought of being used again. A little too eagerly he rolled over, into the powerful arms of his Lord. He would gladly suffer any act brought upon him by the Lord of Mordor.