Bondage

Disclaimer: The characters are Tolkien's, I make no profit but my own pleasure from using them. I promise to return them when I am done playing with them.

It is very late when you finally return home to Bag End on Tol Eressea. You planned on a quick outing, to gather wild herbs from the fields and meadows beyond the forest, but the warm sun and deliciously mild weather lulled you into taking a nap under the mighty arms of a grandfather oak. The sun had fully set when you woke, shivering in your light dress, and you were alarmed that you had slept so long. Surely, Frodo and your sisters would worry when you failed to return, and you are angry with yourself imagining the turmoil your long absence might cause.

You approach the house, and see that all is quiet; the light is on in the smial and in the little room by the door. You aren’t sure if you feel relief that you were missed and that someone has left the lights on for you, or embarrassment that that someone has had to worry over your foolishness. You slip quietly into the hole, hoping the door will not squeak as it sometimes does, and peer into the tiny study by the door to see if there is someone waiting there whom you must apologize to.

Frodo is there. He is asleep in his chair by the brightly burning fire. He has his coat draped over the arm, all ready to go out into the cold and look for you. You feel a blush coming to your cheeks, and chastise yourself for making him worry. You tiptoe into the room. You must wake him; reassure him that you are all right, but as you come nearer to him, you hesitate. In the firelight, his astonishing beauty takes your breath away. He rests his head on the back of the chair, the dark curls melting into the color of the fabric, his eyes are closed and his dark lashes lay peacefully on his fire lit face. His lips, so full and soft, are parted slightly and his breath is coming a little faster than you would have expected it to be in sleep. One elbow rests on the arm of the chair and his delicate hand twitches a bit in his dream. The other one, the injured right, lies calmly on his thigh. You have watched him sleep many times before; spent hours in delicious study of his cherished face, but you have never gotten enough of it. You marvel that this ethereal beauty, this creature of light loves you as much and as deeply as you love him. Again you wonder what fabulous thing you must have done in your life to deserve the joy that swells in you whenever you are near him.

He stirs, his dark brows frown and he calls out softly in his sleep. You listen and are astonished to hear him say something that sounds like your name. It strikes your heart. He is calling for you in his dream, sadly, longingly. You cannot bear to hear the sound of the heartbroken murmur. You lean forward and kiss him, tenderly and lovingly on his lips. He sighs and his lips respond to you, returning the kiss. His eyes open and you can feel the butterfly caress of his lashes on your face.

“I am here, beloved…” You whisper as you break from the kiss. “I did not mean for you to worry. I fell asleep! I didn’t mean to be so late.”

Frodo reaches up to touch your face. “You are home!” He whispers back. The sound of his soft voice and the joy in it sends a thrill up your back. “I thought I would wait a while before going out, to see if you returned on your own. I must have dozed off too!” You laugh softly and kiss him again.

“There is nothing evil on this island that could harm me, beloved! I am sorry I was so silly that I made you worry.” He smiles, contented. His eyes are half lidded, still foggy with sleep and when you gaze into their depths, made almost purple in the firelight, you cannot help kissing him again. His hand reaches up against your back and he presses you more tightly against his lips, tasting you deeply and lovingly. You feel once again the need you have always felt when he touched you. You wonder if he has any idea how much you delight in the feel of him, how much you ache for his caress and his smooth body, naked against yours. His kiss is not urgent, but loving, it asks for what you would never refuse him.

You lean against him and your fingers gently undo the buttons of his shirt. He shifts under you and brings his fingers up to the fastenings of your dress. You are finished undoing his garment before he has more than started on yours and you spread your palms across his smooth chest. His body is warm and soft, like his kisses, and you stroke his skin with a firm, insistent caress. His body tightens under you as he rouses and, still locked in his kiss, you giggle in unparalleled delight. You push the shirt, braces and all, off his shoulders and gently down his arms. You love the feel of his arms, especially when they are flexed as they are now, a rippling strength under his fair skin. He is still trying to unbutton your dress, but you push the shirt down, …and then further, till it well and truly has him bound. He can no longer reach your buttons. You laugh wickedly.

“Well, my lord, it seems you have fallen into my trap…” You say breaking off from the delicious kiss. “I have you right where I want you.” His eyes glitter, he is fully awake now and smiling at you with a wicked delight that matches your own. “Right where I can have my wanton way with you.” You slide down his lap, noting how hard he has grown and your fingers find the buttons of his trousers. You grin up at him and study his face as you slowly loosen the fastenings, one by one. His eyes glitter more brightly but he doesn’t move to either stop or encourage you. You have the panel undone and reach now for the last buttons that will free him. You cock an eyebrow at him inquiringly and his smile broadens. You daringly flick your finger, releasing the last button.

And then he moves. You know he is quick, and it is his quickness that has always delighted you, but this time it is a surprise. In one movement he has his shirt back up on his shoulders and his hands free. He grasps you and bowls you over onto the floor before the fire. You are pinned by the weight of him on top of you and quite taken aback that your captive has suddenly become your captor. He lifts the light dress you wear, working it up over your head. It is a tight fitting thing, with long sleeves and a snug bodice. As it comes off your head, your arms are still caught inside it. Frodo’s husky laugh thrills you and the feeling of him lying heavily on your body maddens you with desire.

He leaves your arms entangled and shrugs off his own shirt again. He slides his trousers off his hips and quickly, as if he fears you will escape him, lies back onto you. You feel him kicking his pants impatiently off his feet. Then he reaches for your simple undergarment and works it down your legs. You feel his knees pushing your thighs apart, the weight of his hips arching against you, and the stiffness of him searching your private most parts. As he enters you, your gasp becomes a groan of intense pleasure. He lays full against you, pressing his body down on top and within you, rocking your whole being with measured, deep, sensual thrusts. He has your hands bound above your head and he holds them there with one of his, trapped. His other hand reaches behind your shoulders and he uses this arm to pull himself deeper into you. His weight holds you down; escape is impossible. He lays so heavily upon you that you can feel every muscle of his stomach as he moves, every tensing of his arms, every press of his hips. The slow, circular, rocking thrusts that are driving into you are motions of his hips alone. He is deep within you and you can feel that too, a hardness and fury that overwhelms you. Although you are hardly aware of it, you are groaning with each rocking motion. He moves your whole body with him. It feels like you are one being, a part of his passion. You lift your knees and angle yourself against him so that his next slow thrust makes you gasp again. Oh, the sweet and tender fire of him! How is it that each and every time he takes you, you feel a higher level of passion than the time before?

You feel your own orgasm building. You cannot stop it. You whimper as he kisses your face, your neck, and your mouth. He is trailing fire in the wake of his lips. Sweat has built up between you and he slips against your body, rubbing his bare chest across yours. The sensation drives you even higher into bliss. You wrap your legs around his hips and arch up into him. It is hard with his weight on you, but your body is answering his will, not your own. The feeling of weight deep inside you is intense and you hunger for it. You want to pull him closer and as deep into you as you can get. You tighten your legs around his hips and rock with him.

You feel the change in him first inside you. It is as if he has grown harder and tenser from the exertion. He groans too, first softly and then with increasing volume. He grimaces, as if in pain, and his dark brows knit together. His eyes are rolling back, but he is fighting it. You note this all in some part of your brain but it has no place in your conscious thought. You drive your own hips up perfectly timed to meet his thrust, and you both groan in pleasure. He is losing his control. Sweat beads on his brow as his eyes roll back again and you feel the trembling of his tight hips against you. He thrusts again, harder than before and you can feel the warmth of him being driven deep into you. It is more than you can bear and the rush that swallows you cannot be denied. You don’t know if you cry out because the firestorm in your brain drowns out all sound. You become sensation and joy and heat and passion. It is a moment frozen in time; both of you locked in climax. You have become one and your bodies flow together like pools of honey warmed by the sun.

When at last you can discern one feeling from another amid the fireworks of your brain, you realize that he is trembling both within you and on you. You are trembling too, although you are so completely consumed by him this fact is not readily apparent to you. Sweat drips from you both and though the fire has dried it on one side of your bodies, the other side grows cool from it. You release a slow sigh, and relax your legs, slipping them wearily from around Frodo’s hips. You are spent, and satisfied beyond your wildest expectations. Frodo too seems weary and spent though you can still feel little spasms of him inside you.

Oh, you could lay like this with him forever! But now that your passions are easing you notice the fire is very hot and your side is starting to become uncomfortable from it. You smile with pleasure and tighten on him. His gasp and chuckle in your ear tickle, but he lifts himself on his hands and looks down upon you tenderly.

“And I thought I had you in my power.” He says softly. He kisses you again and slides out, making you gasp a little. “But you had me trapped good an proper after all, didn’t you?”

FIN...