Chapter 11: Injuries

[ Setting the scene: Éowyn commands the Rohirrim who’ve retreated to the refuge of Dunharrow.]

5 March 3019 (Third Age), Dunharrow

Were she infinitely patient her wait might well have been eternal, for he stood rooted to the floor, looking increasingly anxious.

I guess I’ll have to grasp these reins.

Sidling up to him, she delicately pressed her fingertips to his glistening chest. Stroking. Circling. Teasing. With her other hand she traced the sharper angles of his jawline. “Is there really nothing at all you’d like to do with me? Or to me?” He was trembling to the point of flinching under her touch, and his mouth worked without sound.

She stepped behind him, fingers trailing across the smooth skin of his shoulders, gently raking his back with her nails until she was arrested by the waistline of his breeches. Pressing herself into his back, the hard peaks of her arousal boring into his flesh, she slid her palms around to his chest, rubbing and massaging. Nibbling at an ear, she breathed, “nothing at all?” One hand moved lower to caress his stomach, and she felt and heard his sharp inhalation of breath.

Kissing the across back of his neck, lapping at the crest of his spine along the way, she captured his other earlobe between her teeth, biting down and whispering, “or maybe there’s something you’d like me to do to you?” As she said this her other hand abandoned his chest to brush against his manhood. He practically convulsed, straining towards her now-absent hand. “Well, if you can’t bring yourself to answer, I’ll have to provide my own. Some parts of you speak quite clearly, even if your lips cannot.”

Nimbly undoing his buttons, she pulled his pants down his hips and peered over his shoulder. His swollen cock quivered with anticipation, a glistening white drop already bobbing from the tip. He looked to be about Théo’s size, a measurement she confirmed by taking it into her hand and gently stroking its length. He was quaking with arousal, his breath coming in shaky gasps and starts. He’s already on the edge.

“Perhaps I’d better leave this alone for a moment,” she whispered, releasing his prick and circling back to face him. She leaned in for a kiss, careful to avoid contact with his straining penis. He accepted the kiss with the same frozen fear he’d thus far exhibited in response to everything else, and though she attempted to encourage him to broaden their contact, he remained immobile with shock. Grabbing his hand, she placed it over her breast, her nipple straining to meet his palm through the wet cling of her shirt, but he still seemed afraid to move or respond in any way.

Maybe what I actually need to do is release his tension. She broke their kiss and licked her way down his chest, tasting the spicy salinity of his sweat. Her tongue danced around his abdomen, and he stopped breathing as she moved lower still, rubbing her lips down his thighs as his tumescence nudged her ear. With a strained choking noise, his previously stilled breath returned, short and fast. Despite my limited experience, I’m pretty sure that if I don’t take action soon the next few moments are going to be as messy as they are unsatisfying.

Pursing her lips near the end of his cock, she looked up. He was sweating, staring at her through eyes wide with abject terror. When she extended her tongue to capture the expanding pearl of cream at the end, he responded with a strangled yelp even before she made contact. She knew, then, that this was his first time with a woman ... and that she might claim the entirety his innocence suffused her with a thrill of conquest. But there were immediacies to deal with before she could enjoy the rewards of her triumph. There will be an opportunity to make this more memorable for both of us later, but he’ll never be able to relax until I take care of this.

Gripping his shaft at the root, she wrapped her lips around him, tongue caressing his glans as she descended. One shallow stroke. Two. Three.

That was all it took.

She’d no idea how recently he’d masturbated, or if even if he ever did, but at the moment it seemed he’d stored up an entire lifetime of semen and was releasing every bit of it into her overwhelmed mouth. Gush after searing gush scalded her tongue. She swallowed as quickly as she could, but she was unable to keep up with the torrent, and some leaked past her lips and ran down her chin. She cupped her other hand beneath the point of their union, feeling his warm ejaculate pooling in her palm, yet still he geysered his essence with no end in sight. She pulled him inward closer to her throat, hoping to accept his seed more directly, and he started awkwardly pumping, sliding his cock through the tight seal of her lips as she desperately attempted to consume his tribute. Her palm filled until it, too, was nearly overflowing.

At long last he seemed spent, though his organ continued to pulse and throb in her mouth. With a wet smack she pulled her lips away and looked at her hand, shaking her head in disbelief at the quantity she held in reserve. I’m under no obligation to do this, but I want to. His flavor isn’t all that pleasant, but it somehow seems wrong to waste the gift of his innocence. And why not take advantage of my greed to tease him back to full arousal? For I certainly intend to take much greater advantage of him before we’re done. With a sexy smile, she tilted her head back and let the thick white fluid flow onto her outstretched tongue. When it slowed to a trickle, she noisily slurped the rest from her fingers, all the while looking directly into his eyes. Suddenly they closed tight, and he groaned as his hips started to oscillate wildly.

Surely he can’t be...

She glanced down.

Helm help me, he is.

Matter-of-factly, for his frenetic gyrations made sensual artistry impossible, she sucked his spear back between her lips as he once again poured seed into her mouth. This time the rate was more manageable and she was able to swallow with ease, pausing to consider the taste with intermittent swirls of her tongue. His first load had been bitter and acrid, but the second was creamier and vastly more appealing, as if it imbued with the sweet essence of innocence.

When he was finished the second time, she leaned back on her haunches and licked her lips, amazed at him ... and herself. I feel so full I might not need to eat for days. Is it possible to exist on a diet of semen? Perhaps I shouldn’t be so selfish...

With a wicked glint in her eyes, she rose back to her feet and forcefully planted her tongue inside his mouth. He only resisted for a moment, and then his tongue moved against hers, as eager as it was unskilled, heedless of the residue borne by hers.

Breaking their kiss, she glanced behind her. Gréor hadn’t moved, and his expression was unreadable. Meanwhile, the older of the trainees had fully divested himself of his remaining clothing, and stared at her with undisguised lust. Her own grew in response, further hardening her nipples and accelerating the damp flow between her legs while she studied his body in turn. He was more developed than his companion, his expression more rakish, and as for his cock...

Though it seemed about the same size as the one she’d just abandoned, what captured her fascination was its clear upward curve. I’ve only seen its like in dreams, she mused before exasperatedly reminding herself that, until today, she’d only ever seen two adult penises in person.

As soon as she faced him he practically rushed forward, bending her head backward with an enthusiastic kiss, gripping her ass with both hands and pulling her wet center her against his prod. Their tongues engaged in a vastly more pleasurable swordplay than they’d practiced earlier, and she didn’t resist when he started sliding her up and down against his rampant hardness. It was, in a way, an erotic reenactment of their earlier grappling, but this time they possessed neither clothing nor resistance.

After a few minutes of rapidly building arousal, he let her go and eagerly tugged at the bottom of her shirt, lifting it in one impatient motion and tossing it aside, his attention immediately compelled downward by the bared swells of her breasts. She waited, wondering what he’d do, and as before he moved swiftly to the attack, mauling one with a strong grip as he latched his lips to the other’s nipple and sucked aggressively. She moaned with pleasure — and intermittent pangs of discomfort — as he passionately but unskillfully devoured her breasts with hands, fingers, lips, tongue, and teeth.

Pausing to catch his breath, he examined the result of his clumsy advances. Her entire chest was slick with his saliva, and just below one nipple was a tiny bruise he’d left with a particularly forceful bite. She barely noticed, content (for now) to let him chart their course, finding his youthful exuberance thrilling despite its lack of grace. It also gave her time to wonder just how far he’d take things if she let him.

The answer wasn’t long in coming, for now he was impatiently pulling at her tights, peeling them down her long legs. He followed them to the floor, kneeling, and as they reached her ankles she nimbly stepped from their clinging imprisonment, kicking off her shoes in the process. His kisses returned the way they’d came, trailing along her calves and rising inexorably upward, not lingering for long at any single place, until his face was level with the growing swamp between her thighs. Uncharacteristically tentative, he reached out with a finger to prod her swollen folds.

Trembling with anticipation, she kept waiting, eager to see what his next move would be. He circled her vulva with gentle deliberation, yet without any clear aim. Finally, he looked up. His unexpected vulnerability caught her by surprise.

“My Lady, I’ve done this before, but it’s not the boast it might seem, for,” he continue, looking pained, “I was told, in the aftermath, that I was inadequate to the task. Could I beg your indulgence, and ask that your thus far patient education might extend into this and other realms?”

Oh, you sweet young man. She lifted one leg over his shoulder, steadying herself by entangling her fingers in his hair, knowing they’d soon be wrapped all the way around his head anyway. Her sex unfolded, burning with desire. “Show me what you did.”

His face crashed into her cunt, his tongue unceremoniously worming deep into her channel. Unable to suppress a shriek of surprised laughter, she yanked him away, trying — and failing — to be stern in her remonstrance. “You’re not spearing a wild boar, you’re making love to the most sensitive part of my body. There’s a time for strength and aggression, but there’s also a time for gentleness. This is the latter. Nor is there any need to hurry.”

Nodding, he leaned forward. His tongue slipped back inside, this time more gingerly than before. He began to thrust, lips mashing against her vulva. It was pleasurable but monotonous, and when he failed to vary or add to the motion she pulled him away again.

“Have you never received a lesson in female anatomy?”

To her delight, he blushed. It was an adorable moment of weakness, especially in contrast to his usual confidence, and her heart melted. “Only in a sense, my Lady, via whispered words from my older sister as I prepared to meet the woman of whom I spoke. I understood little, as there was obviously no visual component to the lesson.”

I should introduce you to someone else’s sister. She’d gladly teach you everything you need to know, and her demonstrations would be both visual and tactile.

Éowyn reached between her legs and spread her lips. “While the prodding of a stiff tongue in mimicry of intercourse is often welcome — especially as an occasional counterpoint — other parts of your body are much better suited to repetitive thrusting.” There was a low groan from somewhere behind her. I hope he’s not about to ejaculate again. I need a few more minutes to digest. “Your tongue is capable of much more. And though there’s no part of my sex that won’t respond positively to its caress, this bit of flesh right here...” she squeezed her fingers inward, revealing and extending the pulsing bud of her clitoris, “ ... is the center of a woman’s pleasure. No matter what else you do, sooner or later you need to make that the focus of your efforts. But not too forcefully, at least at first.”

He stared, wide-eyed, with wonder and eagerness. “Is that the clitoris?”

“Indeed it is.” And this will be the most useful lesson of your life, if you pay attention.

He shook his head, sighing. “I understand, now. I was so confused I assumed it was somewhere inside.”

Under her careful tutelage his fingers replaced hers, spreading her lips wider so he could examine her complex peaks, valleys, ridges, and folds. Eventually her own impatience grew, and with an insistent tug on the back of his head she compelled him to put his newfound knowledge into practice.

While he remained far from skillful — she did her best to forget the identity of her previous benchmark, though the comparison was inevitable — with practice and careful attention to her responses (especially the aural ones) he learned how to excite her. He seemed to take particular satisfaction in squeezing her ass until his fingers left indentations while randomly flicking at her clit, and then ... for a few seconds ... pounding his stiff tongue deep inside her channel. Her moans and shudders encouraged him in this. She taught him how and where to introduce his fingers, and he enthusiastically rooted around the steaming depths of her pussy while lapping away at her clitoris. Along the way she taught him how to curl his fingers upward, and with a sudden groan she gripped his head with both hands, bracing him against her sex.

“Right there. Yes. Yes!“ With a rush of fluid she came on his tongue and all over his face, her cunt rippling around his penetrating fingers. It was a very different sort of climax than any she’d previously experienced; more about the satisfaction of accomplishment than raw, abandoned pleasure, and she recovered quickly, bringing him to his feet and kissing him with great passion, reveling in the deliciously musky scent of her own juices.

“Well done, at least for now. And a successful lesson deserves a reward.” His smile of satisfaction widened as his hands moved down her chest to take confident possession of her breasts, and she moaned while he skillfully manipulated her turgid nipples.

Éowyn looked to the side. Gréor remained on the bench, watching but yet to move or speak since his earlier warning. He isn’t even touching himself. Is he hard? Is he turned on at all? Will he refuse my seduction? Wicked notions filled her mind. Perhaps we’ll see how strong his resistance really is...

“Come here,” she said to the younger of the pair, crooking a finger. “You were paying close attention to the lesson, right?” He nodded vigorously. “Good. Lie on the floor.”

Without hesitation he complied. Éowyn stepped over his head and knelt down, lowering her dripping sex to his mouth, and he immediately busied his tongue in and around her wet snatch. His overall approach was more delicate than his companion’s, yet he seemed to have a more intuitive sense for what did and didn’t arouse her. She considered encouraging greater aggression, decided that she liked the slow build, and let him proceed as he would while excitement rose in her loins.

“You,” she commanded the other, “stand before me.” His firm shaft slipped into her hand and she stroked it, fascinated by its shape, tracing its upward curve and delicately running her fingertips back and forth along its length. But as the tongue beneath her drummed harder at a particularly sensitive spot and she opened her mouth to gasp her pleasure, he pushed forward and slid his cock through her lips. It was no shallow or tentative thrust, and the head rammed into the roof of her mouth.

One’s too timid, the other’s too aggressive. I guess equilibrium falls to me.

Suddenly, a nebulous vision flitted through her imagination; an unfamiliar erotic tableau beyond anything she’d ever considered. It was gone before she could capture or identify it, but the lurid memory of its presence remained, causing a precipitous spike in her arousal.

What was that? My entire body trembles with desire, but I’ve no idea for what exotic new pleasure it yearns. She shook her thoughts clear. I should focus. Isn’t there more than enough decadence to occupy me here?

Pulling his rod downward to improve the angle, she began sucking. Her tongue was busy around his tip, her lips greedy as they stretched around his circumference, her mouth a hot, wet cavern in which he could take his pleasure. His hands wound through her hair, trying to push himself deeper into her welcoming heat. But it was futile; his upward curve repeatedly jabbed and poked into the increasingly tender tissues above the entrance to her throat.

I can’t take him any deeper, she realized, frustrated. At least, not at this angle. She paused, considering. But what if... ?

She released his cock, stood, turned, and leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and bidding his companion to stand as well. Despite his confusion, he obeyed. Stretching one leg as high as it would go, with a small leap she swung it over the other’s shoulder, using it to elevate her body, rest her other leg on his other shoulder, then wrap and lock them behind his head to draw him back to her sex. He quickly grasped her intent, and her thighs pressed into his neck as his tongue quested into her dripping hole. Loosening her hold his companion’s neck, she slithered downward until her mouth was again level with the rigid object of her lust.

The moment she parted her lips he slid back into her mouth, slotting his entire length straight down her throat. Momentarily caught off-guard she held him motionless, swallowing rapidly to stave off the instinct to gag and choke. Each pulse of her throat muscles sent jolts of ecstasy through his glans. As before, with both Wormtongue and Théo, her inexperience kept her from realizing just how unusual her ease with such deep penetration truly was. To her it not only seemed natural and necessary, but she experienced an intense thrill — whether of power or submission she couldn’t decide — when swallowing a hard cock to the root. Finally, she put down the urge to repel his shaft and held him deep for a time, focusing on the activity between her legs.

Pushing against his pelvis, her tongue swirled around his retreating shaft as he quivered in ecstasy. Then, wrapping her hands around his muscular buttocks, she opened her mouth as wide as she could and silently urged him to start thrusting; slowly at first, then with more aggression as his arousal grew. His balls slapped against her face and his fingers clawed at her breasts while he forcefully pounded his manhood through her supple lips. The riot of sensations in and around her sex spiked, and she felt the imminent arrival of her own orgasm. Circling her legs more tightly around the head they bound, forcing his thrusting tongue deeper into her spasming sex, she shrieked around the cock that plunged, always deeper and ever harder, into her throat. In an extremity of passion, she gripped his ass and pulled him all the way in, her lips flattening against his flesh, his manhood probing as far as it could.

And then he exploded.

The first few spurts raced directly into her gullet. She pushed him backward, eager to taste rather than just gulp his seed, and the rest filled her mouth before she swallowed. His issue was muskier, sweatier, and saltier than his companion’s. My sudden interest in comparing the taste of mens’ semen should be a matter of shame, shouldn’t it? Well, it’s too late to deny that I’ve come to crave it, strange as that may seem. She kept suckling as his ejaculate flowed into her mouth, swallowing hard to force it upward into her somewhat sore throat, until finally he gasped and wrenched his staff away, sensitivity overwhelming his desire to stay lodged inside her greedy maw.

The absurdity of her position and the conflict of using and being used in turn combined in a whirlwind to bring on her climax. An explosion of fluid flowed across her lover’s chin and ran down his chest. Though at first he wasn’t sure what to do with the excess liquid, nor if he should be consuming it at all, as it ran across his tongue he found himself compelled by the subtle salinity and eagerly drank as much as he could ... until she too yelped with overstimulation and released her hold on his neck, collapsing to the floor and quivering with aftershocks.

After a few restorative minutes, feeling rather than seeing them loom above with yet-unsatisfied rods, she put her feet beneath her, ready for more. Giving the younger of the two an encouraging smile, she lowered him to his knees, pulling his head into her swollen pussy and persuading him without words to continue servicing her. Which he did, eager to drive her to another peak.

Reaching around her body, his companion forcefully squeezed and pinched her nipples. Even though she’d just finished sucking him to completion, his ramrod-stiff prick poked against the taut flesh of her buttocks. Wicked inspiration struck, and she leaned back to whisper, “I want you to do something else. Something unusual. I promise the reward will be worth it. Kneel behind me.” He immediately obeyed, intrigued but confused.

“Use your tongue on me.”

“But he’s...”

“Not there.” She reached back, cupping her cheeks and spreading them ever so slightly. “Here.”

For a tense moment, she wondered if he’d recoil. He didn’t. Instead, he bent to his task with frenzied intensity, kissing and nipping at her tender buttocks, gradually moving inward, then applying himself with fearless vigor to an oral exploration of her anus, fluttering his tongue against it just as he had her clit, circling the entrance until it was nearly as wet as her cunt.

Meanwhile, Éowyn cast a curious glance at Gréor. He stared, unmoving and seemingly unmoved. She boldly squeezed and milked her nipples, licking her lips and sucking on a finger with the sultriest look she could conjure, but there remained no sign that he even acknowledged her teasing.

Let’s raise the stakes.

“Push your tongue inside.” The memory of Wormtongue’s illusory namesake probing her rear entrance made her cunt flood with arousal, despite its source. Again her young lover complied without hesitation, forcing his tongue straight through her tight ring and into her ass. She groaned at the delicious wrongness, yet her pleasure was undeniable. I tried to believe this particular decadence was forced upon me; no more than a perverse accompaniment to my defilement. But Elfi’s teasing reenergized a secret fantasy that, in the aftermath, I’ve had far too many times to ignore or deny. Here, too, is a truth I must now face: I want this. Sooner or later, I want one of them in my ass. One of them, or maybe even...

The same bizarre sexual vision she’d experienced only minutes ago teased her imagination once again. She still couldn’t bring its choreography into focus, still couldn’t grasp what it meant, but it somehow involved the three of them, moving in tandem...

She shunted the thought away as she cried out, shuddering with pleasure. Meanwhile, the majority of her attention remained locked on Gréor, her eyes glittering with challenge.

Nothing.

“Use your finger.”

She hadn’t been specific, so when both men pressed digits into their respective orifices she gasped at the unexpected dual penetration. Involuntarily, her hips thrust back and forth, sawing against their invading fingers, her orgasm clearly at hand. Her mysteriously elusive vision seemed to be on the verge of coalescing into form.

“More.”

Two fingers in her squelching cunt she took with ease. Two fingers worming their way into her ass were a stretching she’d not experienced since Wormtongue’s persistent assault, yet the discomfort was its own form of pleasure. She imagined herself a queen whose every sexual whim was satisfied by devoted supplicants, then a helpless damsel surrendering herself to erotic forces beyond her control, and the tension between the two buoyed her across a seemingly horizonless sea of indulgent, consequence-free sexuality.

All my choices are, at last, my own. Even the choice to give up control, if that’s what I desire.

Manipulated and manhandled by a pair of virile young men, pinned fore and aft by the relentless thrust of fingers and tongues, she crashed into a powerful climax. Yet even as she groaned and wailed, her eyes never left Gréor. Sweat beaded his brow, and his body was rigid with tension, but otherwise...

She bade her young lovers stand and kissed them both. In unspoken simultaneity they bent to her breasts, and she felt the contrast of their styles as they licked, suckled, and nipped; one tender and considerate, the other aggressive and sloppy. Orchestrating a quartet of busy hands, she soon had one working her pussy, another plundering her ass, while both of her own stroked their rigid cocks. Then she sank to her knees, taking each into her mouth, bringing them close to one another and fluttering her tongue across the space between. Despite much effort and silent pleading, however, she couldn’t get them to make contact with each other and thus fulfill her deviant fantasy of fellating both at the same time.

As before, the younger reached his orgasm first. Again his load was copious, and she marveled at his seemingly endless reserves while her mouth filled to overflowing. As she drank from his shaft, she held the other on the brink. Then, with a final swallow, she turned her head and sucked another prodigious ejaculation down her gullet, reveling in the decadence.

If only that loathsome pig Wormtongue hadn’t forced me to do this, he might have been surprised at my willingness. Some friends used to speak ill of the taste, but I’m coming to crave it above all other nectars.

Though she continued to stroke, lick, and suckle, to her disappointment neither of the young men seemed to be responding to her ministrations as they had before. If anything, their erections were slowly deflating. They can’t possibly be spent already, can they? Whence the storied stamina of the young? I’m not even close to done with them, nor do I wish them to be done with me.

Rolling the younger of the two to his back, she dropped to her hands and knees and diligently applied herself to the task of reenergizing his shaft. She stroked his organ, laved his testicles, sucked his entire scrotum into her mouth, worked every kind of tactile magic she could on and around his pole, but nothing stayed the gradual collapse of his manhood.

Desperate to regain control of the situation and sate her unmet desire, she demanded that the other position himself between her legs and rub his half-flaccid spear through the slippery folds of her labia. With more grim determination than enthusiasm he complied, grasping her upthrust hips and rubbing his semi-erect cock against her wet center.

This is most unsatisfying.

Despite all her efforts, all her most thorough manual and oral exertions, she was unable to revive the younger of the two. She’d hoped to explore the myriad possibilities of two — or perhaps even three — men long into the evening, a decadence she’d never have conceived of attempting without the protective mystical forgetfulness provided by Wormtongue’s mind-altering powder. But now, to her dismay, she realized she’d been too greedy, too soon. And I foolishly discount how much effort they expended in non-sexual pursuits on this very training floor. Yet my need still burns, and even one will be better than none ... that is, unless the eternally stoic Gréor can somehow be urged into participation. She turned her head, begging her lone active companion to satisfy her desires.

“Are you ready? Take me.”

Indeed, the shaft between her legs was just rigid enough to attempt penetration. She was desperate to feel his hard spear thrusting into her soaked channel, impatient for her long-delayed impalement to finally begin in earnest.

He stared at her sodden gash, rapt, and his shaft surged with arousal at the thought of what — and who — he was about to do.

“Please, just fuck me. Fuck me now!”

He took hold of his incredibly sensitive rod, edging the head just inside her drenched entrance, and paused, overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment. He’d been with a few women who’d allowed certain liberties, but none had offered this. And yet here was the devastatingly beautiful Lady Éowyn on her hands and knees, pleading for him to fill her.

He could barely breathe. His balls swelled with anticipation.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed forward. Her slick channel offered no resistance, and her only response was a throaty groan. The silky, gripping heat of her passage was unfathomably stimulating.

Two inches. Three. Four. And then, far too soon, he felt it: the imminent earthquake in his loins. “No, no,” he stammered, “Lady Éowyn, I’m sorry, but I ... I...”