Lord of the Ring
by AgingAthlete
This is what one might call an 'epic' tale as I have written it like the classic epics, no real chapters, just pause points if you will--pauses that are delineated by (••••••). Since it is in the erotic genre, you may expect all sorts of eroticism that spans a large spectrum and as such, will not appeal to those who are either close minded or just seeking a quick cum.
There is no intent whatsoever to imagine characters younger than the age of consent in any of the erotic behaviors written of, and since this is fantasy, pretty much anything else goes. Lastly, any similarity to any persons living or dead is purely coincidence and unlikely anyway given the fantasy aspect of the piece, which also has nothing to do with Tolkein's masterpiece other than the clever title. Enjoy!
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The day was warm and pleasant as I set out from the castle of King Neferentian by following the western road that would eventually take me home. As I approached the boundary of the kingdom of Zar and the outer limit of the King's realm, I thought warmly of the year spent as an intern of Neferentian's court and my attainment of the rank of Warrior. My pace quickened at the thought of the pride that my father would have in me on reaching home.
I had been walking upwards of an hour and the road had narrowed and then begun to wind back and forth between the shallow foothills of the mountains that separated my father's kingdom from Zar. I realized too late that my musings had caused me to become careless. A slight sound behind me, the swoosh of a club, then sharp pain and silence.
I woke to a dull ache at the back of my head and the sudden realization that I was bound. A stout rope secured my wrists together and held my arms above my head as I lay on the ground. I gave a pull only to discover the rope was secured to a tree behind me. My legs were spread apart and secured by ropes to my walking staff. Looking down I could see that another rope was tied to the center of the staff and to a tree thus preventing me from pulling my legs up and keeping me stretched out.
The cackling laugh of a troll coming from behind me made my heart sink as I realized who it was.
"Well, Brake, if only the King's court could see you now!", the troll bellowed.
"Smegboon, if you release me immediately I may allow you to live", I growled with strained bravado.
"Ha ha, that is good. You think that I have forgotten so soon the play you had with me?"
Contrary to his observation, this would not be good. During a midnight patrol I had captured Smegboon trespassing on the King's land. The penalty was 20 lashes, which I applied with gusto in front of the entire court while the troll was hobbled in leg irons and wearing a heavy wheel. He swore revenge as my men dumped his bleeding body into the moat and now I was at his mercy.
"Let's see," he muttered as he came closer and began to loosen the leather thongs holding my codpiece in place.
"You perverted demon. Stop! I command you!"
"Oh no, we can't have you bellowing like this," the troll said.
Before I could yell again he had placed the heavy leather piece over my mouth and nose. The heady aroma of my own codscent and the acrid smell of old urine made me swoon. He had turned it upside down so that the curved and blunt base that normally cradles my stones now cupped my chin. The fur covering the inside now tickled my face and muffled my voice. He rapidly tied the leather thongs about my head, effectively securing the protector of the Bratanagain jewels to my face.
My great-great-grandfather had worn the piece, as did his son, then his son again, my father, and now me. My face warmed suddenly when I thought that this was probably the first time it had been worn this way and I stared with unbridled hate at the wrinkled troll.
"This is quite a unique garment," he said as he traced his finger across the crest embossed on the front of the piece, "but I have no use for such a scrap."
Trolls have no sex, or sex organs, they are neuters and abominations--borne from the unholy union of an elf and an ogre. His gaze drifted to my now exposed cods and again my face flushed and for the first time I felt the chill of early evening air.
He then moved to where the rope tied to my walking staff was anchored to the tree. He worked it free then quickly threw the coiled end up over a large branch that extended above us. With a grunt he hoisted my bound and stretched legs up from the ground by pulling on the end of the cord. My yells were muffled as he quickly wrapped the loose end around the base of my cods.
"Now then, Brake. We shall see how hard you trained at warrior camp. How long will your stomach muscles last before your royal stick and berries rip free?"
Already my body was straining as I fought to keep my legs up and the tension off my cods.
Smegboon cackled and danced beside me, then he produced a rough cloth sack, holding it in the air in front of my face.
"This Brake! This is my revenge!", he cackled.
I could no longer watch him and had scarce resource to wonder what horror was in the sack. Sweat poured from me as I grimaced from the pain in my legs, stomach and groin. My strained muscles had begun to twitch, but I suddenly felt a tugging at the legs of my britches. The filthy troll had slit the leather lacings to expose my arse.
I felt his gnarled hands on my cheeks and screamed through gritted teeth "You bastard!" into the now soaking wet codpiece.
His bony finger prodded at my private flower and I jolted. Then I felt something cold, smooth and wet press against me. Forcefully it entered me, pushing deeper into my bowel, then ended.
Before passing out I heard a loud animal growl and Smegboon's wild cackling stop suddenly. Then I felt myself being lifted as a warm darkness washed over me, ending my pain.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
I awoke again to pain. This time the pain was not sharp, but dull. A deep ache that stretched across my belly and thighs, circled my cods and settled at the base of my spine. My arms and legs were free and my codpiece rested next to my head, no longer tied to my face. I was naked from the waist down and covered by a coarse blanket. A fire crackled to my left and night had fallen. Then I smiled as I recognized the massive figure sitting across from me at the other side of the campfire.
"Leonor!", I croaked, my mouth and throat dry and parched from my horrible exercise.
"Ah, the warrior wakes!" he said with a sharp toothed smile, "I am just now repairing your britches. Luckily I had some rawhide and a bone needle in my pack. Wait, you must be hurting."
He put my leggings down and stood, stretching his seven hand frame lithely, like the huge cat that he was.
Leonor was a Leonide, a male of the race of great cat-people. His body was part cat, part man. He wore only a heavy cape secured at his neck and a swordbelt that sported a huge metal codpiece, twice the size of mine.
The light brown fur that covered his body was ample protection from the chill night air and the thick folds of the cape gave a regal bearing to his catlike form. The codpiece, like mine, was a symbol of rank and ancestry. His was fashioned from silver and worked in a complex filigree pattern. A black velour pouch cradled his cods behind the open metal lace. The last time I had seen him without the piece was when his father, Lantron, King of the Leonides, marked him.
Like me, he was also a prince. Where I was sent to intern for a year at King Neferentian's court, the Leonide custom for completing warrior training was different.
He stood before his clan naked, arms and legs spread wide. His father stood before him, holding his jewels in one hand and a red-hot iron in the other. Slowly he pressed the glowing brand into the base of his son's huge left nut. I smelled the burning hair and flesh as the clan mark was indelibly set into Leonor's manhood.
As his father intoned over and over, "You are the clan, the clan is you", a blissful smile spread across Leonor's face.
I had known him all my life, we were joined as blood brothers when I left the Amazon jungle of my mother, Brackatta, to learn the warrior way in the kingdom of my father.
Back then I was a boy of twelve years, while Leonor was a cub of only five, but already ten in the accelerated time of the Leonide. Our fathers were blood-brothers, like our grand-fathers three generations before. The peace between the Sebs and Leonides had not been broken for a hundred years because of the blood pact.
At eighteen I was interned to King Neferentian for the final year of my warrior training. Before leaving for the kingdom of Zar, I had attended the branding ceremony of Leonor as one of the few men permitted to observe it. Now Leonor had taken something from his pack and came to my side.
"Here, drink this," he said as he held a small glass flask to my lips.
I drank the clear green fluid greedily and as I did, a pleasant warmth sped through my body. As the warmth touched my aching muscles, the pain vanished. As quickly as it spread, the warming sense ended and I sat up, invigorated, as if I slept long and rested well.
"A restoration potion," Leonor explained as he returned the flask to his pack.
"Thank you, dear friend", I replied.
Now he resumed the repair of my clothes.
"I was hoping to meet you on the road as your sire had told me that you were leaving Nerferentian's court today. I came too late to stop the bastard troll. He ran off as I untied you."
"You saved my life, Leonor, and more importantly, my cods!", I chuckled, "Thank Gor that you arrived when you did. The filthy scum was pushing something up my arse."
A look of great sadness came over him as he looked deeply into my eyes and said solemnly, "I'm afraid I came too late, Brake."
"What do you mean?", I asked, a hint of fear creeping into my voice.
"He put a stool snake into you."
"What? Leonor, what in Gor's name is a stool snake?"
"One of the worst abominations known, my friend," Leonor began, "Just a short while ago I was on a hunting trip with my father and a few of his court warriors. We brought down a stag rather quickly and as we approached the carcass, Catren, who as you know is my fathers most trusted advisor, yelled out, 'Stool snake!' and held his arms out to keep us back.
As he spoke we saw the snake slither out of the mouth of the dead animal. It was pure and ghostly white, with no eyes. Catren fell upon it with his axe and killed it before it could gain the safety of the brush. Then we built a fire to burn the remains. As the flames leapt about we saw many smaller snakes writhing out from the body of the stag to be consumed by the fire.
As we watched in horror, Catren told us that a stool snake invades the body of it's victim by entering the arsehole. It then travels up the lower and upper gut, resting at the base of the stomach. From there it consumes most of the food of the hapless host eventually causing them to die from starvation. This explained the gaunt appearance of the stag and the fact that we caught it so quickly!
The snake also lays eggs in the victim and these hatch and feed on the dead carcass after the parent has left the body."
I suddenly felt nauseous, then asked weakly, "How can I remove this curse?"
"My friend, you can't", the huge cat-man said matter-of-factly, "without help, of course. Catren told us that only a wizard of the 5th rank possessed the knowledge of how to remove a stool snake without killing the host."
"Great, just great. Now all I have to do is find a frocking wizard!"
"As it stands, Brake, the palace of the wizard Zanff is rumored to be here in the Western Mountains. Only a warrior of noble birth and fearless courage may find the entrance to his abode. You just might qualify," he grinned.
My relief must have been obvious, for Leonor smiled broadly as he spoke of the wizard Zanff.
Then I said "I must set out at daybreak and seek out the wizard's abode. I would ask that you accompany me, but I know of your fear...I mean distaste of all things magic."
I had caught myself too late and Leonors broad smile dissolved instantly into a dark scowl.
