Melkors punishment Lotr

"Look at her. See how prettily she moans for me. I wonder, do you draw the same pleasure from her lips?"

Sauron looks on, chains pulling at his neck, his cock straining, impossibly hard, the ring at its base keeping him ready and waiting.

Failing to present you to his master was a mistake. He knew that now. But watching you squirm on his own anvil was a special kind of torture, one that he could never admit was as sweet as it was painful.

Lying on the massive metal anvil in your beloved's forge, chains wrap around your limbs, keeping you in place for Morgoth to have his way with you, his magic holding them against your flesh. They lie loose across your skin until you strain against them, pulling tighter the more you struggle.

At first he delighted in seeing you pull and strain against your bonds, mocking you for your efforts to reach your beloved as the metal bit into your sensitive skin.

"Oh charming girl, would his touch soothe you? Do you need his silver tongue in your ear? He does have a way with words, does he not?"

You whimper as your bonds tighten to the point of pain, constricting your lungs, as Sauron growls deep in his chest.

"Leave her out of this… please."

His master ceases teasing your overstimulated flesh, turning just slightly to regard Sauron with a glare, a look that cows you both into submission.

You can't raise your head enough to look at him, but you can feel his distress, his longing to take you in his arms and make you forget your current torment.

As time drags on, and you remain naked and bound on Sauron's anvil, Morgoth discovers a new pleasure.

Watching you give into him, watching you cease your struggle and take what he gives you, watching you submit.

Your struggle was satisfying, but childsplay; your submission is everything he craves.

"Good girl, you know to whom you belong. You might be bound to my servant in fëa, but he is bound to me. Tell me, what does that make you? Use your words, sweet thing."

It takes you many attempts, your tongue heavy and unwilling to cooperate.

And your lover's gaze only humiliates you further, as you realise the true meaning of his master's words.

"You… my lord- yours… his… and yours." Drifting in and out of consciousness, those few words take all of your strength, tears falling from the corners of your eyes, body writhing under Morgoth's power.

He pauses, looking you up and down. For a second you can breathe freely, satisfied in the knowledge you'd pleased Him.

The chains tighten once again, freezing cold metal links digging into your skin so painfully you'd scream if you had any air left in your lungs.

"His… and mine." Morgoth runs a long, pale finger up your torso, slicing the flesh with his fingernail.

You'd wince if you could move.

"One is correct. Let me teach you which."

With no warning, he sinks into you, impaling you on a cock that frankly no hole should ever have to suffer.

He's massive, inhumanly so, forced into you by his sheer will, bending your cunt to fit him. You wonder how much you can bend before you break.

He has the audacity to gasp.

"Oh Mairon, I can see why you like her. Or perhaps, I can feel why you're obsessed with her."

Sauron snarls but the tightness of the collar around his neck reminds him of his place.

You've never felt so full, could never have imagined feeling as if your insides have no place within your skin, as his cock takes up every inch of space and then some.

You can't move, can't even think to move, as the colossal length inside you keeps you pinned to the cool metal anvil soothing your back. Even blinking feels like a trial, so you allow your eyes to drift closed, but a sharp slap to your cheek reminds you to stay alert; the Dark Lord requires his servants to be obedient, and how can one be obedient if they are unaware of every stretch and pull inside them?

His hands encircle your hips, his long skeletal fingers forming a grotesque belt of flesh and bone, as he attempts to ease his passage inside you. There's still so much more of him to go, and he wants to feel all of you, has to know what Sauron has been keeping from him.

"Isn't she so pretty like this, Mairon? Oh, those tiny moans as I rearrange her insides, can you hear them? Come now, speak up, my sweet, let him hear you."

And you do; choked moans that make his cock bob, even as he watches you undergo torture even he can't fathom.

The Dark Lord pauses in his conquest, your cunt overstuffed and unwilling to cooperate further.

"To take you wholly, I must make some changes to you, my dear."

He laughs, a cold bitter noise that you wish never to hear again, when he sees your eyes widen in terror.

"Oh, sweet darling girl. To make you perfect, I must remake you. And the only way to remake you…" he leans down to whisper in your ear, "is to break you."

Your heart races as you search for your beloved. Surely now he will prove his strength, and overcome his master for you, to save you from this fate?

But he hangs his head, hair falling in his eyes, defeated.

You're on your own.

"Now if you're to take me, this-" he gropes at your hips and ass, his massive hands easily dwarfing your frame, "needs to be bigger. More room for me to ravish you as you deserve."

You can't help the whine that escapes you. It started as a pitiful noise of terror, but as Morgoth's magic does its work, and you feel yourself begin to fill his hands, arousal pools in your core, heat filling you as your hips pop and creak as you grow wider and more pliable, your ass more soft and plush, ready for him to sink into at a moment's notice.

It's only when you can feel how heavy you've become, your centre of gravity shifting, that you begin to panic.

"Shh, shh, that's a good girl, there's so much more to come, hush now." His deep cold voice never ceases to send a shiver down your spine.

He thrusts further inside you, rolling his hips to sink into your wet heat, hands grasping cruelly at your hips, dragging you up his length.

"What an impressive hole you are. See how she writhes for me, see how I fill her like you can't."

His large hands clutch at your ass, arching your back into his cold embrace.

"There is something missing though." His tone of amusement should terrify you, but at this point you're so out of your mind, so overstimulated, that any new terror is just a bonus.

He chuckles, a sound that resembles dragging metal over broken glass.

"What do you think, Mairon? She's beautiful, but there is always room for improvement? Wouldn't she be just perfect if I gave her more for us to enjoy?"

Sauron looks on, helpless against his Master's power, his cock drooling precum, pooling on the stone between his knees.

"Pathetic, isn't he, darling? He can't even find the words to tell you how much he'll enjoy you once I'm done with you. Because that's all he's good for. The scraps from my table."

His attention back on you, he thoughtfully traces a finger around each nipple.

"Mairon, get up." He startles you both with his command, but Sauron is on his feet before you can blink, his bonds released with a snap of his master's fingers.

"Pliers. And a sleever bar.* I think I have a use for those worthless trinkets you were working on."

He rolls his hips into yours, ceaselessly fucking you while your eyes roll back in your head, gasping, unable to worry about whatever is coming next, thinking only of the unbearably delicious stretch in your cunt.

One moment you're pressed against his master, the next, Sauron is pulling your nipple taut with blunt pliers, the pressure almost unbearable.

"Look at me, look at me!" Morgoth traces your jaw before gripping it hard to look you in the eye. "Now be a good girl and don't forget to scream."

Before you can fruitlessly protest, a hot metal rod skewers your nipple.

You can hear someone screaming, a hideous piercing shriek. Why are they screaming, you're the one suffering?

It's you, you realise, a guttural scream that would curdle the blood of any who heard it, but Morgoth relishes it; it might be the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

You don't remember blacking out, but you come round to a burning pain in your breasts.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision, but Morgoth forces your head back, constricting the chains around your neck.

"Ah, ah, stay right there, sweet girl, your beloved is at work." That dark laugh rips through you again, as you strain to see what he means.

Sauron works to avoid your gaze, threading two shining rings through your nipples. Morgoth looks on in amusement; how ready your beloved is to ruin you, to make you everything his Master desires.

You're still so fucking full, still impaled on a cock too large to contemplate; the burning at your chest ebbs and flows with his thrusts, his magic working to wring the most pain and pleasure from you. He fingers the rings, tugs at them to test just how sensitive you'll be to his direction; you can't control the moans that escape you as your clit throbs with each tug.

Just when you think your torture is waning, Sauron draws a long slim chain between the two rings, tying them together effortlessly, the links seamless in a twisted show of his craft.

"Now that is something worth my attention." His Master almost sounds impressed. Almost.

Unfortunately, that's not the end. A final ring lies in wait on your abdomen, glimmering dangerously.

"One more, sweet hole. One more."

His cock slips from you easily as he pushes you back onto the anvil and steps aside.

Sauron steps between your legs, letting his impassive expression fall just a moment, anguish written into every line on his perfect face.

"Spread your legs, love." You'd forgotten what it is to be spoken to softly, and your heart melts a little.

You do so, limbs shaking, and he places a comforting hand on your abdomen. You instinctively try to reach for him, forgetting your bonds, which tighten and gnaw at your skin.

"Hold still," he says for his master's benefit, before adding a soft apology under his breath.

He pulls the hood of your clit from your body, and that burning pain is back, as he skewers your most sensitive flesh.

Trying not to writhe under him is the most torturous thing you've ever had to do, but every time you move, it hurts like fresh hell.

When his work is complete, and his master finally takes in his prize, you see a smile tug at his lips, the first you've ever witnessed. You can't say it's a pretty sight, for nothing about Morgoth is pretty.

The chain between your breasts connects to one ending at your clit, giving Morgoth the perfect way to manipulate your flesh.

"A power over flesh." He does smile at this, his lips drawing back over sharp teeth.

A few powerful words of healing, and you're ready to do as he wills, the holes in your flesh soothed but permanent. And oh so sensitive.

He unceremoniously yanks the chain, whimpers falling from your lips like a prayer, as waves of pleasure overwhelm you.

"Is she finished?" Sauron's voice breaks the spell, and Morgoth rolls his eyes at the interruption.

"What business is it of yours yet, what I do with my little plaything?"

He regards your worn-out body, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, your cunt gaping and quivering around the absence of his cock.

"One more thing. Well… perhaps, two." Like nails on a rockface, his laugh penetrates you to your core, freezing cold and biting.

His hands run up your body, tugging at the chain that connects your most sensitive places, grasping your newly plush ass, ending at your breasts.

"This will make you the perfect toy. So perfect for me."

He's not really speaking to you, but about you; why would he need to acknowledge a needy set of holes with words?

He clutches at your breasts, savouring them before he remakes them.

Pulling you to sit in his lap, his cock pressed against your abdomen, the head pushing insistently at your chest, Morgoth takes his sweet time.

It starts slowly, an unfamiliar sensation in your breasts that you can't explain, an expanding heat that quickly makes you feel like you ought to burst.

But instead the flesh on your chest grows, slowly ripening in his hands, growing to fill them.

"I thought perhaps my first spell would perfect you. But you were out of proportion, sweet girl. What is a sumptuous ass like yours without the tits to match?"

You're beyond noticing such vulgarity, his words washing over you as the chain pulls taut, drawing your nipples together, forcing your chest up and out, the flesh jiggling under strain.

The chain pulls at your clit, making you gasp, heat flooding your core as slick drips down your thighs.

"Look at her, Mairon, look how she enjoys my touch, look how needy she is for me."

Your lover remains knelt, in the perfect position to witness your rebirth, aching to take you for his own but locked in waiting for his master to have his fill.

Your chest grows to fill his palms and beyond, soon fit to burst his hold, straining impossibly against the chain that constricts you so. The metal bites into your skin, your expanding flesh giving no respite to the delicious pull of the chain on your nipples.

You think he'll stop soon, surely you're big enough now, how will you possibly stand if you grow much bigger?

But he keeps going, just to see how far he can push you.

He cups your heavy breasts, testing their weight and finding them wanting, pushing more magic into you to see you swell and moan. They push out against his chest, his cock encompassed in them, the head rising to meet your lips.

Purely out of instinct, perhaps blind lust, you take it into your mouth, tongue swirling, tasting him oh so sweetly.

From somewhere behind you, Sauron lets out a strangled moan, taking you in as you freely give yourself to his master at last.

You'd forgotten he was there.

Morgoth chuckles in your ear, turning you both so Sauron can see the results of his efforts.

The woman he adores, clinging to his master, her body ruined for anyone but him, and ever growing to match the intensity of his desire.

"Such a needy thing, aren't you? Have you earned it yet? Do you deserve everything I'm willing to give you?"

You moan, throwing your head back, baring your throat in submission and arching your back for him, flaunting your new endowments. Gorgeous heavy tits, capped with plump nipples begging to be sucked, and an ass that would make anyone weak at the knees.

He would never admit, even to himself, that you broke his control then. But despite himself and his desire to tease you senseless, he picks you up and drops you on his cock, knocking the air out of your lungs.

How can you take him so well? It was not so long ago when you could barely look at it, but now you're taking his monstrosity like you were born for it.

He wraps his hands around your waist and drags you up and down his shaft, milking himself, giving barely a thought to you or your pleasure. You feel so damn good wrapped around him, a worthy prize for a Dark Lord, a pathetic set of holes to be used as he sees fit.

When he comes, you're not ready for the fullness, the massive stretch as his cock swells inside you, plugging your cunt as his seed fills you, nowhere to go but inside your needy womb.

"Good fucking slut, Mairon, you should feel how she tightens around me, what a lovely whore you've brought me."

As his shaft expands inside you, his cum threatens to leak from your cunt, but he keeps you full, your belly growing to accommodate the sheer volume.

"I bless you with my seed, so don't spill a fucking drop."

You clench tight as the coil in your abdomen finally springs, heat engulfing you as you finally reach your orgasm. You're not even sure if you're allowed to cum but it's too late, as you shake and moan and writhe, your newly swollen flesh quivering, slicked with sweat.

It's only when he pushes you off his cock and you stagger back against the anvil, grasping at any solid surface to stay standing, that you notice your beloved.

Sauron kneels in a pool of his own cum, cock still hard and swollen and needy for your touch. Not that he'll get it.

"Pathetic. And you've made such a mess? Now I have to decide who deserves to clean it up. And who gets to clean me."

You exchange a look with your beloved, both still ravenous for each other, lust blinding you to the shame to which you'd normally succumb.

But he cuts you both off as if sensing you were about to speak.

"Mairon, here. At my feet. And you, pretty whore, I want that floor sparkling."

You nod, on your knees before your brain can interfere.

You've tasted him before, but licking his seed from the cold stone floor is a new level of depravity that you'd have never thought possible. But you do it, because you know who you belong to.

"Watch, slut, as I take my favourite servant's pretty mouth, perhaps you'll learn a thing or two."

Sauron's mouth around his master's cock feels like something you shouldn't be privy to. But you can't look away as he so thoroughly cleans your slick from his shaft, the remnants of his seed dripping from the head, caught by his deft tongue.

"Come. Take your lesson up close, there's a good girl. So depraved, both of you, how lucky I am you brought her to me, Mairon."

So close to Sauron once more, you can't resist pressing your lips to his as he sucks at the massive cockhead in front of him. He is surprised, but the moan from his master tells him to continue.

He kisses you back with fervent passion, careful not to neglect his master, alternating between you before pressing Morgoth's cock to your lips.

A deep chuckle from above you tells you both it's time for you to prove your worth once more.

"Now. Remind me who you belong to."

On your knees with his cock between your heavy breasts, mouth greedily working at his head while your hands roam his shaft, you only have to look up at him, cock-drunk and out of your mind with lust, and he knows your answer.

But he needs you to say it.

As gently as Morgoth has ever done anything, he pulls your head off his cock with a pop, wrenching your hair and yanking at the chain adorning your body, sending a lightning bolt from your clit to your brain.

"Who do you belong to, my adoring little slut?"

You can't help but rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of stimuli to keep your mind from fracturing. It almost keeps you grounded, if not for the desperate pleas from your lover that threaten to break you.

"You, my Lord. Only yours." You sigh, unable to look away from Mairon, who rocks in euphoric agony, a hair's breadth from you but unable to touch you.

Morgoth's seed splatters your face, as he marks you as his own, dripping onto your heavy, perfect breasts. You think briefly of taking him back in your mouth, but if he wanted to finish inside you, he'd have done so, you reason, so you sit and let him do as he wishes, like the obedient canvas you are.

When his master finally leaves you both to recover, however briefly, Sauron takes you in his arms, attempting to avoid where you're most tender.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" Your beloved cradles you, rocking you with soft murmurs in your ear to soothe you.

You're not sure why he's apologising.

You had to be broken to be made perfect.