Title: Pippin’s Punishment Author: SoundofHorns Author's Email: jls5v@mtsu.edu Pairings: Merry/pippin Rating: NC-17, Rape, BDSM Summary: Never would happen except in this story—Merry manipulates a young Pippin into allowing him to rape him as punishment. It’s rated Rape and not a Non-Consensual Sexual Situation because I feel Pippin doesn’t really understand what’s being done to him, even if he technically agrees to it; also because Pippin is roughly the hobbit equivalent of fourteen, while Merry is roughly twenty years old. Pippin turned twenty-three years old that night. He’d conveniently arranged to be at Brandy Hall when it happened, just so he would miss his sisters’ squeals and icky kisses. He’d just begun to blossom—all pink cheeks, rounded limbs, and chocolate curls that dangled in his green eyes. At his party he’d noticed several inviting looks from the friendlier lasses; none however, had had the fire of Merry’s eyes. His cousin had been drinking heavily that night, dancing and teasing the girls with brief kisses and tweaking hands, until suddenly, their eyes had met across the room and the younger cousin had realized what Merry truly wanted. Blue eyes, slightly bloodshot, fixed on Pippin’s and Merry gave him the same smile he’d favored every lass in the Hall with…only far more intense. Shocking, unknown heat had flared in Pippin’s stomach. He gasped, looking down at the table, fair face reddening. Pippin had just entered his tweens and was unprepared for this. Especially such a feeling directed at his cousin. Merry had been dancing and twirling one giggling lass after another, all of them delighted with the attentions of the handsome young Brandybuck, and they’d kept him from Pippin’s side for almost an hour now. Poor neglected Pip had been sipping a mug of ale, snuck to him by Merry himself, and watching. Merry was too courteous a hobbit, he had soon decided, he should simply tell the girls no and come and keep Pip company. It was his birthday, after all. And Merry had yet to come and collect his present. But now, after that look, Pippin wasn’t too sure. He fidgeted nervously, laughing and jesting with a few cousins that went by, and dreading/anticipating the end of the song. The Hall’s band was uncommonly good and he tapped his foot to the beat. Snagging another ale, grinning abashedly at the scolding lass, Pippin took a gulp. His plate still had a few goodies on it: cookies, and the crumbs of a large slice of cake. He nibbled at a cookie, trying not to think about the invitation in Merry’s eyes or what it could possibly mean. Finally unable to keep from checking Merry again, he was surprised not to see him. Pippin’s heart jumped in his chest. Had he gone off with a lass? Sometimes hobbits did that, Pippin knew, but he wasn’t exactly sure what they did. Jealousy flared; Merry was HIS. Pippin had half-risen, preparing to storm the Hall when a hand settled firmly on his shoulder and stuck him back down in his seat. It was Merry, of course. The older hobbit pulled another chair up close to Pip’s side and swung it around to straddle it, facing Pippin. He plucked up the mug, peered into it, and downed the contents in a series of long gulps. Pippin felt himself flush all over, as he watched. Merry’s throat was undulating, swallowing almost leisurely and then as his wet tongue slipped out to lick the last drops off the corners of his lips, Pippin felt a strange new sensation: excitement combining with heat rising in his groin. His heart raced; he was very confused and the ale he’d consumed wasn’t helping. Merry plunked the mug down on the table a trifle unsteadily. The older hobbit smiled slowly and leaned even closer, laying his head on arms folded over the back of the chair. Pippin avoided looking into his eyes. He was so close Pippin could feel the warmth of Merry’s body, his breath and his feet brushing his beneath the table. “mm…Pippin?” Merry’s voice was a little slurred. “Y-Y-Yes?” Pippin stammered, compelled to look up. “Don’t I get a present?” “No.” Pippin tried to be flippant, but it failed miserably. He was trembling inside, from fear or excitement or both as Merry reached out to touch his cheek. “No? What a naughty young hobbit.” His Brandybuck accent was more pronounced, the husky tones sending shivers down Pippin’s spine. “Am n-not.” He stuttered again as Merry’s thumb slid down his chin, fingers brushing fiery trails down his neck, as though he were savoring the soft skin. Pippin had no idea whatsoever what was going on. He managed to squeak out, “You haven’t spent any time with me. You don’t deserve a present” before his throat closed entirely under Merry’s caresses. Pippin’s eyes darted wildly around. The party was virtually over, lamps were being put out, servants were cleaning up the food and the room was being emptied rapidly. He and Merry were undisturbed in one of the corners Pip had chosen long ago for its good vantage point of the dance floor. “I have to earn it, is that right?” Blood surged into his young cock as Merry’s voice lowered into a soft growl. His hand moved up, thumb sweetly brushing Pippin’s quivering lower lip. “…Merry…” He began, confusion warring with a strong, uncomprehendable desire for Merry to never stop touching him. “I doubt you even got me a present.” Merry cut him off, abruptly straightening and moving away. His voice was almost curt, making Pippin’s hands twist in his lap. He hated when Merry was short with him. Guilt for deceiving his beloved cousin made his stomach churn. “I did too!” Pippin cried, desperate to prove it. “Well?” Merry had begun to rise, but he settled back into his seat. Pippin felt honored when he smiled again and asked, “Are you keeping me waiting for your pleasure, cousin?” Pippin squirmed, feeling his semi-hard member throb. Merry’s voice was low again and inviting; the vibrations went straight to his cock and made him feel strange. His eyes gazed into Pippin’s with an indefinable manner; he quickly bent his head to escape them. Merry was confusing him…what was he doing wrong? Merry never acted like this; Pippin was ashamed, even though he didn’t know why. “Hmm, cousin? You’d never forget me. I’ll bet it’s in your room.” Merry’s warm hands, tipping Pip’s chin up; his voice soothing now, more normal, though slurred from ale, “Do you want to bring it to me in mine?” Merry, son of the Master, had a wonderful room: large, with thick walls and luxurious furniture, including a huge, soft bed. They had played fortress on that bed many a time. It was a happy place for Pippin. He nodded, feeling the loss as the older hobbit brushed his face slightly with slender fingers and stood. Pippin began to lose his half- erection as Merry ruffled his curls and moved away. He was glad—he’d only ever been hard there a few times before, mostly after dreams he couldn’t remember and once when he’d been fortunate enough to spy on a few lasses swimming naked in a creek. He sat for a moment, silent, before trying to trot off down the honeycombed halls. He’d only gone a few steps before swaying dangerously and grabbing at the wall. He’d drunk more ale than he’d thought. Pippin blinked and shook his head, feeling woozy. Merry had been right, his present was in Pip’s room. Counting doors, the Took reached his and flung it open. Reaching under the bed, he grabbed the package and tucked it under his arm. Merry would love it, he thought jubilantly, all uncomfortable feelings left behind as Pippin walked carefully to Merry’s room. He didn’t want to wake any of the sleeping hobbits. The guest rooms, that Pip had been assigned, were several hallways down from the Master’s quarters. Pippin’s absence from bed would hardly be questioned; usually he ended up staying up late and then falling asleep with Merry anyway. “Merry?” he opened the door slowly. His cousin was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. Pippin quickly averted his eyes, head spinning, but not before he saw Merry’s chest. It was different from his immature one—broad and softly defined, nipples dark against pale skin. Funny, Pippin had been swimming with Merry many times and had never noticed how Merry looked. Merry pulled his arms out of the shirt, and turned to toss it in a basket. Pippin glanced up in time to watch the play of muscles across Merry’s smooth back. His lower arms were darker, and lightly freckled. Merry looked strong and well fed, what a hobbit should be. Pippin crossed his arm not holding the package over his front and looked down, feeling thin and small and pitiable. Who would want him? A moment later he was startled, “I said, are you going to wear those itchy clothes all night?” Merry’s voice was amused. He was holding a nightshirt out to Pippin. Pip looked up and gasped. The room seemed too small. Merry was very close to him; so close he could smell his skin, his breath, all musk, pipe smoke and ale. Did Merry expect him to undress in front of him? He was suddenly anxious, which confused and frightened him even more. He had done it plenty of times, why was it different now? “Nuh…No…” Pippin squeaked as he fumbled with his buttons with one hand. His shaking fingers slipped off them, all too aware of his bigger, older cousin’s eyes on him. Finally giving up, he sat the present on the bed. Merry stepped forward, grinning, and tossed the nightshirt onto the bed. Pippin’s heart raced at his nearness. “Come here, cousin.” He said softly and began to leisurely undo Pip’s many buttons one by one, nimble hands smoothing down the shirt and Pippin’s chest after each. Pip’s nipples hardened instantly and with each brush of cloth and skin caused electric pulses of pleasure/pain. He’d never been touched like this before; it was intense. “I…I can do it.” He blurted, jerking away. Pippin, mortified, was growing hard again. What would Merry think? “Yes, I suppose you can.” His cousin’s voice was cold again, making him feel ashamed. “You’re a big hobbit now, don’t need me to help you, right?” “No!” Pippin was near to sobbing. His head was whirling from ale and confusion. “No what?” “I need you, Merry. I do. I’m not a big hobbit. I’m very small and silly and I love you.” He whispered the last, eyes filling, salty tears trickling down his cheeks as he looked at the floor. Pippin hugged himself tightly, feeling miserable when Merry said nothing. “Do you?” The question was long in coming, the silence punctuated by Pippin’s shaking and soft weeping. “Yes…” Pippin sniffled. He shivered when Merry ran a finger down his narrow, bare chest. Then, “I believe you do.” his cousin’s voice, slow and considering, “I’ve been waiting on a very special present.” Pippin brightened, whatever Merry wanted, he would give him. Anything so that Merry would love him again. “Will you give it to me?” “Yes.” Pippin answered quickly. He wiped his eyes, trying to stop the tears. “Good.” Merry smiled warmly; Pippin rejoiced in it, still unsure of what he’d done wrong, but he’d obviously done something. His cousin stepped forward, his breath stirring the curls hanging above Pippin’s eyes. Pippin looked down, submissively, willing to do whatever Merry wished. He trusted Merry—he would never hurt him. Merry’s hands came up to cup Pippin’s face and lifted it. Pip closed his eyes, trembling. Merry won’t hurt me, he thought firmly, but he was frightened anyway. Their chests were almost touching, Pip’s heaving as his breathing got faster and faster. Merry was so near, so warm, too close. Pippin tried to shift backwards, appalled as his small, cock began to strain against his trousers. If Merry found out… Suddenly Pippin gasped, mouth parting in shock as Merry’s mouth touched his. Merry was kissing him, taking advantage of his surprise to slip his tongue briefly into Pip’s mouth before withdrawing it again. One of his big, strong hands cupped Pip’s chin, the other supported his neck as the kiss lingered. Merry’s lips were warm and soft. Pippin couldn’t breathe. Merry’s hand trailed from his neck to the small of Pip’s back, seemingly huge and hot—Pippin couldn’t think at all, he was so full of conflicting impulses— confusion, fear and a strange, overpowering need for something he couldn’t understand. As Merry pulled him close, his hand firm against his back, Pippin’s erection rubbed against his thigh. Pippin moaned softly into Merry’s mouth. “Ugh!” There was pure disgust in Merry’s eyes as he jerked away, though if Pippin were more experienced he would have seen something else glinting there. Poor Pippin, dizzy, fell on the floor. “You dirty little hobbit! I felt that!” Merry hissed, wiping his mouth. He was aiming a kick when Pip gained his voice. “Merry no, please don’t!” He sobbed, overwhelming shame strangling any other words. Merry was right. He was dirty and bad. “I’m sorry.” Pippin wept, curling onto his side, away from Merry. “I can’t believe you, Pip. You should be punished.” Merry was doing something, getting something from a drawer, but Pippin was too cowed by the vicious tone of his voice to dare look up or speak. “I should tell everyone about you. Don’t you think so?” “NO!” Pippin cried, no one could know about him. He was nasty, dirty. He was shaking hard when Merry grabbed him by the collar and threw him on the bed. “Then what? You have to be punished.” Merry’s eyes were alight, almost as if he were enjoying this. “You could punish me.” Pippin whispered, thinking that no one would have to know then. He was still trembling, avoiding eye contact. “I could.” Merry said slowly, then firmly, “Roll over, Pippin.” “What? Why?” Was Merry going to thrash him? “Do it or I’ll tell everyone how you liked it and got hard when I kissed you.” Pippin couldn’t argue with that. He rolled onto his stomach, hands pressed flat against the bedspread, heart beating hard, stomach roiling. He hated being beaten. He jumped, instinctively turning his head when Merry grabbed one of his arms. “What…” “Shut up.” Merry growled, using one of his belts to secure Pippin’s wrists to the bed frame. Pippin was getting more and more scared. He froze, icy terror spreading as Merry covered his eyes with his shirt, tying it around his neck. “Don’t make me gag you—if they hear you scream you’ll have to tell everything, understand?” Pippin nodded mutely. He didn’t think he could breath enough to scream. But he did give a small yelp as Merry jerked his pants down and off, the waist catching painfully on his softened member. Pippin’s small buttocks were bared now, goose bumps rising as the air moved against them. His only protection was his unbuttoned shirt. He was shivering in anticipation of the first blow and was stunned when Merry gently ran his hand up between Pippin’s thighs instead. Breath coming in uneven pants, he stared at the darkness, smelling Merry’s scent in the shirt wrapped around his eyes. Pippin yelped again when Merry’s hand stroked his buttocks, fingers slipping into the crack, brushing his tiny hole. He bucked and twisted against the belt, terrified. Merry punished him with a hard slap that stung his cheeks. “I told you, quiet!” His muscles spasmed uncontrollably as he attempted to obey his older cousin. Pippin held himself still; he had wanted Merry to punish him, after all, it was what he deserved. Merry’s weight depressed one side of the bed. His hands spread Pippin’s tense thighs, caressing roughly. They cupped his ass gently and squeezed. Pippin fought not to squirm as to his absolute horror he realized he was getting aroused again. His cock rubbed against the bed, pleasurable friction hardening it rapidly. He jumped when he heard Merry sigh and his hands stretched Pip’s buttocks apart. His small opening was circled with one suddenly slippery finger; Pippin was fully hard now and biting his lips not to moan. Terribly confused, was this supposed to be punishment?, he sucked in a breath as Merry pushed one finger inside him. Even slick, it hurt as it was thrust roughly, all the way to the knuckle, past Pippin’s tight ring of muscles. He whimpered into the shirt. Behind him he could hear Merry panting. Merry’s finger moved in and out of him, faster now, twisting and stroking his inner walls. Pippin whined low in his throat. He ground his teeth as another digit was forced into him. Fingers stretching and widening Pippin’s innocent opening, Merry’s breathing was becoming increasingly rough. Pip whimpered faintly, whatever Merry was doing, it hurt. “You want it, don’t you Pip?” He rammed another digit into Pippin’s ass, friction burning. Pippin thrashed briefly, frightened, but still aroused, his erection thrusting into the bed as Merry’s weight came down hard on his back, pinning him. “Hold still or I’ll make it last all night.” He threatened. Pippin froze, but not because of the threat—something hard and hot was pressed against his hip. He barely noticed Merry withdrawing his fingers, attention focused on this huge, slick thing rubbing against the crack of his buttocks now. Was Merry going to put that up him? Pippin tensed, moaning. It felt gigantic, whatever it was. “Quiet…ohhh yes, Pip. Just, be quiet…be a good lad…” Merry’s voice was eager, he was thrusting the hot, hard thing up and down Pippin’s crack, friction stinging and reddening his sensitive skin. Pippin choked on a whimper, feeling Merry rocking against him; his small cock was caught, rubbing between his belly and the bedspread. The desire for relief was strong; Pip had no idea what to do. Suddenly, horribly, the thing was pushed inside him. Pippin bit down hard on the shirt, muffling his screams as it stretched his tiny opening to the max, with tearing sensations and streaking pain as he was violated. It felt impossibly huge, like it would come ramming through his stomach and out; his insides felt like they were being pulped as it was thrust deeper. Pippin was keening, high pitched and breathless, blind eyes wide as it kept driving relentlessly into him. “stop…please…” he gasped. “Quiet, Pip…it’ll be over soon….” Merry groaned. Pippin felt Merry’s body press against his back, the older hobbits weight was behind the invader, forcing and widening as it inched past his resisting flesh. “Relax,” Merry murmured, breath puffing on Pippin’s ear, as he lay full on top of the smaller hobbit, crushing him to the bed. Pip’s erection was long gone in the wake of this horrible pain that lanced through his vitals; tears wetted the shirt that blinded him as he sobbed quietly. But the pain of entry was nothing compared to the fiery burn that branded his insides as Merry began to withdraw the huge thing. He bit the blanket as it was slowly pulled out, then screamed into the fabric as Merry grabbed his hips and cruelly rammed it back inside. Once more it was filling his tight hole, stretching it far beyond its limits, Pippin breathed rapidly, trying desperately to adjust as Merry revolved it; it felt like a sword thrust deep in his innards, expanding him and angling to slip a little deeper even as he sobbed. It was awful, this punishment. Pippin wept mutely, afraid if he made a noise Merry might subject it to him again and again. That thought was too horrible to bear as his cousin began to withdraw it slowly again. Pippin begged silently for it to be taken out, for it to end. But, instead, Merry began to thrust in once more, moaning as he filled him. “That’s good, Pip,” he whisper-gasped,” that’s a good lad, oh, oh, yes, take it,” he was grinding it brutally, already sunk to the hilt, but still grinding against Pippin’s trembling buttocks. Pip gave a muffled cry as Merry lifted his hips, and began to take it out again. He clenched his bound hands, anticipating the agony of being refilled. Hotter than fire, the thing Merry had shoved up him did not disappoint. It forced its way inside again, hard as steel, excruciatingly reshaping his innards to accommodate it. “I’m so sorry, Merry, please stop,” he whimpered. Merry did not respond, except to begin rhythmically thrusting in and out, violating him agonizingly fast and rough. Pippin shook with the force of it, eyes squeezed shut, unable to think anything but how horribly bad a hobbit he must be for a punishment such as this. Shame flooded him, he wept, rocking with Merry’s thrusts. Merry was panting, whisper-gasping, “yes, Pip, yes,” as he went faster and faster. Pippin’s tiny hole was on fire from the friction, his thighs were spread as far apart as possible to accommodate this invading thing, buttocks elevated to make Merry’s thrusts easier, he was trembling as he submitted to this terrible thing. Merry was thrusting faster and harder, shaking the bed. Suddenly he stopped, freezing, buried as deep as possible. Pippin ceased to breathe as he was crushed. Merry moaned loudly, the thing inside Pip pulsed, new warmth filled his innards, spurting in and flowing even deeper than the hard thing, which was not so huge anymore. Merry sighed, head slumping onto Pip’s shoulder as his body relaxed. “Mmm, it’s over,” he murmured. Pippin shuddered in relief as his cousin got off of him, removing the thing he had put inside him. It was several minutes, in which Merry moved around and did something, including wiping Pippin’s wet thighs and buttocks before he untied Pippin’s wrists and the shirt from around his eyes. Pippin lay facedown and didn’t move. He was terribly sore and ashamed. Merry stroked his tear-streaked cheek. “It’s over, cousin.” His voice was slow, tired. “You won’t do it again will you?” “No…no, I won’t.” Pippin turned his head into the caress, love for Merry filling his heart. Merry only did what was right for him. “I’m sorry I was bad.” “Shhh. We won’t tell anyone will we?” “No, Merry.” The older hobbit smiled and kissed his forehead. “You just lay here and rest.” “Okay,” he whispered, relaxing. “I love you.” “I love you, too.” Merry lay down beside him, hands gently stroking his sweat-soaked curls. “Sleep, Pip.” He pulled the covers over them and Pippin fell into oblivion.