Nudity before others was nothing new to Frodo. He had bathed with Sam and the others during their journey, washed with Bilbo in his youth, and skinny dipped with friends in the Brandywine River. But this, being laid bare before Sauron's gaze, was intimidating. Humiliating. He felt the Maiar's eyes trace every inch of his body, head to toes. He was cold. Frodo attempted to shrink into himself, but was stopped by Sauron's hands taking his own and holding them above his head with ease, his eyes recording every pace of the Hobbit's body.
Sauron mumbled an unintelligible phrase under his breath, words in Black Speech that Frodo didn't recognise.
''What did you say?''
''Vanya…'' The Lord repeated, this time in Elvish. ''Beautiful. Do not attempt to conceal your body from me again, Ring Bearer. I will look away when I grow tired of you. And you'll notice I haven't looked away once.'' He will bend and bow to you quickly. Patience, Sauron. Patience. Sauron watched at him with hooded eyes, searching for any trace of fear or hesitation he could exploit, transforming into arousal and submission. He was determined to force a metamorphosis of the Halfling, from humble Hobbit into a confident, majestic Maiar in miniature. Sauron himself enjoyed the game a transformation could be; adopting the veil of Elven form had become second nature to him, and he rarely strayed from it. An Elf's enchanting beauty was too easy to weaponise, an important addition to his arsenal. It was decided. Frodo would become dependent on him. Desperate to impress and please and pleasure his Lord. Beg for him to claim his body and soul, to reward him with rapture and the irreplaceable sensation only Sauron could provide with his words, his lips, his tongue, his cock. And when he was thoroughly seduced and mollified, Sauron would take him apart slowly. Delicately. Like forming pottery or carving fine wood, every move had to be delicate. It would take time, but Sauron didn't care. Every day would be a game. And one day, he would have his true goal. The One Ring would once more sit neatly beneath his knuckle. And after that? Well… He had to sample the wine before committing to the whole barrel.
Frodo looked up at Sauron, wincing as Sauron's grip on him tightened and his weight was applied to his thinned wrists. Pleading with his eyes, Frodo spread his legs a little wider, attempting to distract his captor enough for his grip to loosen. He attempted to stroke his captor's backside and spine with his feet, but couldn't reach, merely spreading himself further in the process, exposing his virgin hole to the cool night air. The sensation made him tremble, and he moaned softly. ''Are you that keen for me already, pet?'' Sauron murmured, stroking the pulse points of Frodo's wrists with his thumbs. ''You're opening yourself up so sweetly, offering yourself so readily, but I want to savour you. To take my time preparing you, tasting you, bringing you to the edge again and again until your body is near exhaustion and the only relief you can seek is in me. I want to see your body glisten with sweat, with your own nectar, to hear your breathing quicken in desperation and despair as you are overstimulated. You'll think me a wretch, I am sure. But you will be grateful, my daring Traveller, of the exquisite exertion I put you to.''
The Hobbit keened under him, his wrists taking on marks from where he had been restrained too long. He turned his head to avoid Sauron's gaze, but no matter which way he looked, Sauron seemed to follow. Finally, Frodo looked up at his captor, thick eyelashes softening his eyes. His cheeks flushed with colour, body grew warmer, his cock hardening. ''I want you.'' He whispered, barely audible. ''I want you to… to take me. I'm ready. Please…'' His pleading roused Sauron further, but the man did not demonstrate any emotion, save for his curiosity about the boy beneath him. ''Please Sauron!'' Frodo's begging turned to whines; he attempted feebly to raise his hips enough to meet his Lord's, but was still unsuccessful. ''Why won't you take me? I'm… I'm ready! I want you on me, in me. Please! Please…'' He choked in frustration.
Seeing his inaction paying off, Sauron released the Hobbit's arms, and sat back, enjoying his exasperation, his torment. It was easy amusement. Provide his captive with just enough attention, just enough affection, physical contact, emotional engagement, to hook him, then deny him when he wanted it most. It would ensure his obedience later. A tried and tested practice, based in seduction and refusal, a dance to which only he knew the steps. ''I told you, cormalindo, I wish to savour you. You can't expect me to take you every which way, and all tonight, surely? You are an ambitious vénë, aren't you… How can I possibly placate you?'' He knew exactly how far he wished to take things tonight; Frodo would find himself enraptured by Sauron's fingers and tongue, and perhaps use his own, begin his oral ministrations upon the Maiar's body. If he proved himself, of course. But no more. He would not couple with the Hobbit until much later. His body would need training, naturally, to accommodate Sauron's size and strength. He had promised not to harm Frodo, after all - and if he was ever to obtain the Ring, it was an oath to keep.
''Sit on the edge of the bed'', Sauron commanded, descending to the floor to kneel upon a fine blue pillow. ''I will tend to you with my mouth tonight.'' He crossed his arms slowly, waiting for Frodo to follow his order. Tapping his fingers patiently, the blond man took note of Frodo's intimidation, his body language, his obvious arousal… And his fascination with his arms. When he finally fucked the Hobbit, he decided, he would make a show of his strength, have Frodo focused on the sinew and muscle beneath his olive skin. Yes, it would be an easy distraction, and reinforcement of the very real physical danger (and pleasure) the Halfling might face at the hands of his Master. ''Come now. I swore an oath not to harm you, did I not? I'm hardly going to ruin your first time being touched. Sit before me.'' Frodo moved cautiously in obedience, draping his legs over the side of the bed. He was still far thinner than when he left the Shire, easily manoeuvred, positioned. Looking up from between his knees, Sauron smiled cooly, slowly bringing his hands to his Hobbit's thighs, stroking them gently from knee to just shy of his wanton flesh. His fingers easily enclosed the majority of Frodo's thighs. Useful. He moved to caress his partner's stomach, his chest, arms, rousing and calming him all in one motion. ''You're small, for a Hobbit. This adventure has wasted you away.''
Frodo shuddered, flushing with shame. He was aware of how the journey had taken its toll on his body as well as his mind. He didn't like how small he was. How his tummy didn't have its usual pliability, how his thighs were too far apart. His cheeks didn't carry their usual dimpled demonstration of Hobbit health. ''I know. I'm small.'' His face dropped, eyes closed bashfully.
''That doesn't mean you're not still beautiful, Ring Bearer. Now,'' he continued, tenderly kissing a bruise on the inside of Frodo's right leg, ''I would like to taste you.'' Sauron worked his way up and down the lengths of Frodo's legs, brushing them with his lips, thumbs, fingertips, running neat lines across them with the very tip of his tongue. Every action was observed, every reaction recorded. This first encounter was research for future coupling; the Maiar enjoyed watching his playthings, noting what was effective. In tandem with screening their thoughts, he could manipulate how he moved, perfecting his strategy. His ministrations rose further along Frodo's body, following the hollows of his malnourished collarbones, across his arms and chest, descending his downy-haired stomach, finishing in a tantalising lick down his shaft, lapping at the clear nectar gathering at his cock-tip. Frodo choked back a sob, his hands shooting to his mouth quickly to repress the moan; Sauron brought his small hands down to his hair, so as for Frodo to entangle his fingers in the platinum locks. He'd follow along with Frodo's tugs, intensifying his actions accordingly. ''How sweet you taste, Frodo Baggins…'' He smirked, Frodo's humble member growing to its full length before his lips. He licked at the tip once more, making the velvet flesh glisten and twitch. Frodo winced, the temperature variations proving a difficult adjustment on such a sensitive organ. A cool breath passed Sauron's lips before the flat of his tongue was pressed firmly to the underside of Frodo's eager cock, a long, agonising drag from the base to tip. ''You know, your colouring is very evident here…'' Sauron gestured to the gleaning gland, ''and here…'' His fingers were tracing rings around Frodo's nipples, a dusky pink, two small rosy discs of potential pleasure. ''All perfectly paired to your lips'' He continued, drawing a thumb over Frodo's cock slit before wetting the Halfling's mouth with his own limp. The boy could have fainted from embarrassment or arousal as it happened. ''It makes me wonder whether your other morsels match.''
The Hobbit blushed again, and wriggled his hips a little further over the edge of the bed, now resting the back of his soft thighs on Sauron's imposing shoulders. How humiliating. How liberating. He felt charged, emboldened, knowing his body was desired, and by one so well-versed in pleasure. The shame of being brought to rapture by so dangerous a figure only fuelled the fire in his belly.
''Will you continue, please? Please… Sauron.'' He asked politely, remembering the promise made earlier. So long as he used his captor's name, he would be safe. Frodo caressed a lock of blonde hair in his left hand, looking pleadingly through his thick lashes. A dark chuckle emanated from Sauron's chest. ''I hoped you'd ask soon.''
Sauron's lips wrapped neatly around Frodo's unpresuming cock, forming a hot, tight, wet seal that he immediately rebelled against. ''N-No, wait! I thought you were licking! Like when no-one's looking and you've the last of the strawberry jam on the knife, and you… you…''
His words were beyond formation. He remembered lapping at the jam knife at many a picnic, a party, even lunch with Samwise or Bilbo, savouring the sweetness on his lips, feeling the cool thickness warming in his throat. Yet now he could only focus on the smooth, repetitive motions of Sauron's perfect mouth along his pretty Hobbit cock. Sauron's eyebrows fell into a knowing smirk; he had heard Frodo's memories, his enjoyment of his servicing. Frodo's feet curled, his fingers digging furrows in Sauron's hair. The larger man continued still, taking Frodo fully in his mouth, thereafter sliding his tongue out 'neath his cock and teasing the Hobbit's agonised balls. This intensity was too much, too quick; Frodo trembled, bucking his hips and finishing in Sauron's mouth embarrassingly quickly.
Savouring the taste of the Ring Bearer's first orgasm, Sauron sucked even tighter, stroking a curled finger across Frodo's groin before pulling away with a satisfying small 'pop'.
''You didn't last long at all, Sweetling. I was very taken by the image of your little tongue licking greedily at that jam knife, as I'm sure you can tell.''
Frodo looked down between Sauron's legs and was taken by a myriad of emotion: arousal; envy; intimidation; curiosity; fear; and hunger. He craved the unknown, the sensation of the Lord's length caressing his throat or insides in a tortuously pleasurable way. Sauron's own cock eclipsed Frodo's in every way, and, like the rest of the man, was aesthetic perfection. The Hobbit stilled a little; perhaps this was what Sauron anticipated Frodo sought in a lover. A pathetic virgin, who had never been opened by another man, unsure of what an acceptable member actually looked like. And the size of an Elf or Man's anwas was beyond the knowledge of a Hobbit, lying solely in his imagination.
''This is the body I chose for myself, Frodo. You needn't worry about your lack of experience. Rather, I am enjoying it. I am touched by it. Each experience for you, I relish, knowing I am the one to deflower you again and again.'' For a brief moment, Sauron smiled at him, a seemingly genuine expression. ''And I'm going to continue that… Although, if you would like to examine me more closely, you may do so. Perhaps once I finish seeing to your needs first.'' A gentle tug on his thighs sent Frodo tumbling onto his back, legs still hooked by his knees atop Sauron's shoulders. He found his legs being raised higher, humiliatingly so, and held together until Sauron's vision met with the peachy cleft of Frodo's backside. He could scarcely see his Lord appraising his arse, yet he knew. He just knew that the sight of his hole stirred his Enemy further.
''Beautiful…'' Sauron whispered once more, pulling Frodo by the thighs even further off the edge of the bed, until he was only resting on the covers by his own shoulders. ''I would like to taste you here, too.''
''But-''
''You can't expect me to open you here eventually without having sampled you, surely? Foolish Hobbit. Now come, I wish to feel you wriggle and press against my tongue, to have it inside you and hear you squeal.''
Frodo hesitated once again, and ultimately relented. He wasn't even aware this was an act the people of Middle Earth would enjoy. It seemed so shameful, so dirty. He thought differently upon feeling the firm flatness of Sauron's thick tongue once more pressing against his virgin hole, effectively soaking the knot of nerves before he switched to the point of the fleshy member, drawing runes and symbols, spelling letters and painting pleasures unimaginable hitherto to the Hobbit. The smaller male jerked and squirmed, keen to have his backside pressed as firmly as possible against Sauron's noble chin. He felt his hand reaching for his own cock unconsciously, as though it were a perfectly natural response. And it was. Sauron lapped and teased and tormented Frodo's tight little ring for an agonising period, for what seemed like an hour, until he was mumbling incoherently, pleading for another release.
''You're so greedy, especially for one so Green'', the Lord chuckled, blowing cooly against the now-relaxed, reddened flesh of his Hobbit. ''I won't take you tonight, I'll tell you once more. However, I might be persuaded to try another act.'' Sauron stood, spreading Frodo's legs and presented two fingers before mouth. Locking eye contact with the Halfling, he issued another simple command: ''Suck.''
Frodo did not hesitate, and eagerly took the perfect digits in his small mouth, gagging halfway between his knuckles. He was sure he knew what was to come next. He was keen to impress his Master. To show he could do it, he could do… that… and more, when asked. His sweet mouth suckled hungrily, lubricating the slender fingers. Yet still he could not reach Sauron's second knuckle.
''If you can't manage the length of even my fingers, Little, Hobbit, perhaps you'd be as likely to taste steel as my cock. It may be time for you to give up your futile efforts,'' Sauron teased. ''But, do remember, I have sworn not to harm you. I will be lenient… For now. Your attempts are admirable. But now I wish to bring you release once more.'' In a swift action, Sauron swept up Frodo in his arms, holding his legs apart with ease, and carried him to a basin of water, used as a mirror, in the Lord's bedchamber. ''Now, brace your legs comfortably, here. Very good. You're so obedient. It's charming.'' Frodo had a perfect view of his own body; he had never seen himself from this angle before, and almost broke free of the bewitching arousal. He looked thin. Too thin. He had never been a particularly plump Hobbit, but now he barely recognised himself. ''You really think I'm beautiful?'' he whispered, scarcely audible in the silent room.
''I think you are breathtaking. Your skin is so clear, perfect even when mottled with scars and bruises. Every lock of your varnë hair glistens against the candlelight. Your lips, your cock, your chest, and yes, your sweet, tight hole'' (Frodo squirmed in embarrassment) are an enchanting shade of rose. Truly, though I have never seen a Hobbit before, and I am aware you are petite for one of your age at present, you are still beautiful in my eyes. Perhaps I will even come to view your bravery as beautiful.''
''What do you see it as now?''
''I see you as a pretty little fool. One who is distracted from the task at hand.'' Sauron retorted, scarcely giving Frodo the time to process his comment before slipping a finger inside him with ease. The Hobbit formed a silent 'oh' with his lips, eyes fluttering open and shut in surprise and intense pleasure. The sensation was indescribable: intense and hot and filling, shameful and wrong. He marvelled at the feeling. ''Don't forget to watch, Sweetling. Observe yourself opening up for your Lord. And to think, you're filled so nicely by just a finger. Imagine the possibilities.'' The Mairar whispered against his ear, kissing its shell, down his neck and across his shoulders. Frodo looked down, into the basin, and witnessed his (perceived) anal assault. The tight band of flesh, stretched tautly in a pretty pink ring around Sauron's middle finger. ''Oh… Oh my.''
''I'd like to hear more of that.''
Sauron curled said finger inside of Frodo. Three strokes against the over sensitive nub within the boy, coinciding with a strategic nip of his neck, and he released into the pool of water, leaving a stream of milky white floating in the mirror.
''Perhaps one more finger…''