1488: Celebrian – Part SixPosted: July 31, 2016
Author: A now-forgotten servant of Morgoth the Defiler
Topic: Lord of the Rings
Critiqued by KittyNoodles
*** WARNING: The following riff contains some of the most horrifying rape scenes ever encountered within the halls of this Library. If dendrophilia, biastophilia, erotic humiliation, sadism, masochism, narratophilia, teratophilia, salirophilia, cum inflation, kidnapping, sexism, slavery, or victim shaming/blaming bother you even a little bit, this riff may not be for you. Also, there’s some major injury late in today’s excerpt, although it isn’t described in very much detail. Step lightly all the same, okay? ***
Fury: Get off of the floor, child. You have had more than enough time to recover.
Kitty: The floor feels safe, Fury. Unless and until I get a warm, fluffy blanket and a suitably adorable stuffed animal to cuddle, I am not getting up.
Fury: [massaging the bridge of his nose and generally looking extremely irritable] I endured clawed, tantruming infants who were easier to reason with than you are.
Patrons, as our host is currently reverting to her toddlerhood, it falls to me to summarize our previous session. Fortunately, that will not be incredibly difficult, as it covered a nearly identical scene to the one with which this story opened. The one great difference was that the orc king attempted to insert himself into Celebrían’s anus in our most recent installment, only to find it impenetrable despite the sheer amount of brute force he applied to his attempts.
As an aside, with or without proper lubrication, he should have been successful, given the amount of power Daeum suggested was being put into his thrusts. At the very least, Celebrían’s anus should have been torn utterly apart by the event, not merely bruised.
We return to the story immediately after a line break consisting of four asterisks, and find Celebrían again in her dark, cold cell.
Kitty: This is sacrilege, not Storytime with Fury.
Fury: Nevertheless, I expect you to display good listening skills, Kitty.
When the next door opened, she thought it was to return her to her torment. But the orcs instead brought a fresh gown and water and rags to clean herself as well as comb to work the goo from her hair.
Kitty: Well that was… entirely unexpected.
Fury: Indeed. Have the orcs discovered the wonders of high fashion?
Kitty: Where even in the balls did they get a fresh gown? Particularly one that fits Celebrían? Aren’t we ostensibly in a setting where everybody’s clothes are tailored specifically to their body type? Since literally everyone has clothes that are one hundred percent handmade and either tailored by their own hands or a paid seamstress? Wouldn’t that make everybody’s clothes relatively unique and difficult to share except between very similar body types – and extremely similar if not identical body types, in the case of people like Celebrían who, on top of belonging to a race of people who basically excel at everything to do with fashion and art, have enough status and money at their disposal to get some pretty damn near glove-like outfits made?
Fury: For that matter, why would one wish to clothe a woman one is keeping prisoner to be used as a sex slave? Is her silk bondage gear no longer suitable attire, or has the orc king now decided he has a fetish involving the disrobement of others?
Kitty: For once, Uncle Google doesn’t have a clever fetish name for that – but it is a fetish that exists, as evidenced by this fascinating deviantART post and multiple online videos. I say we dub this fetish the Undressing Fetish.
Fury: Must you label everything?
Kitty: It’s a safety thing. Kind of like having you and Tarak around to help is a safety thing.
Fury: I see.
Kitty: I need safety things right now. This fic makes me feel vulnerable.
[Fury vanishes with a sound like glass shards falling to a stone floor.]
You still there, buddy?
[Kitty starts humming When You’re Alone.]
After they had been gone for some time, she turned to the laborious task of cleansing the filth from her body. But try as she might, she could not cleanse the memory.
Kitty: [singing weakly, but gradually sounding more upset] Ev’ry day must end… but the night’s our friend… angels always send a star when you’re alone…
She was sleeping when the door next opened. This time she woke to full understanding of her plight. She steeled herself for another round with the king but instead the two orcs lifted her gown, took a kind of dildo with a base that straps attached to and shoved it into her ass.
Kitty: [singing through clenched teeth and sounding decidedly distressed as her voice rises in volume] At night, when I’m alone, I lie awake and wonder which of them belongs to me – which one, I wonder!
The dildo stretched her anus terribly but it was much smaller than the king’s huge cock and it was able to pass her tight gate. The orcs fixed the straps around her waist and crotch then tied the straps tight.
[Kitty starts to sing the next portion of the song and instead dissolves into mildly hysteric giggle-sobs.]
The dildo was hard in body. Her anus ached and burned at its presence.
[Fury has returned, and Kitty is now nestled in three or four very large, very soft, and very fluffy blankets, all of which are wrapped around both Kitty and a handful of large pillows.]
Kitty: You forgot the stuffed animal, Fury.
[Fury takes advantage of Kitty’s strained mental state to again break the laws of reality and toss a spontaneously summoned toy tiger at Kitty, who manages to free one of her hands in time to catch said toy.]
When they left, she pulled her gown up and tried to remove the offending item. But she could not undo the knots with finger, comb or any other implement she could find. She was impaled.
Fury: You were already impaled, woman. Now you are simply hopelessly impaled. A subtle difference, but a difference nonetheless.
Kitty: Can I name the tiger Fluffy?
Fury: Yes, you may.
Kitty: Yaaaaaaay I’m naming him Fluffy.
The orcs came from time to time, how often she could not tell. There was no sense of time in this place. From this time on they left a lit torch in her chamber at all times.
Fury: Yes, when I entertain prisoners who are becoming increasingly despondent, I too prefer to leave them with a means by which to manufacture their escape or end their own wretched lives.
Kitty: Couldn’t she, like, count how many times they came? Or watch the torch to see how burned down it was during each visit? Or both? I think I read somewhere that torches burn for around an hour or so, so if it goes out between visits shouldn’t that give her at least a rough estimate?
Fury: Clever girl.
[Kitty smiles at Fury and resumes playing with Fluffy the Tiger.]
Each visit, they removed the dildo to allow her to crap, then returned it.
Kitty: They said the c-word.
Fury: Do watch your language, Daeum. It is incredibly jarring to encounter such modern vulgarities throughout your story, and we are in the presence of an extremely psychologically exhausted young woman.
Whom I may need to slap if she does not return to normal within the next few minutes.
[Kitty starts humming The Tiger and continues playing with Fluffy.]
Every few visits, she could tell that they replaced it with a larger one although they never let her see the size of the dildos any more. Each time the size increased, they also coated it in some slick goo that seemed to ease her anus and help it stretch.
Fury: She never once saw any of these dildos? Did she never struggle? Did she never look at them before the orcs wrestled her into position? Really, Daeum, how did you expect anyone to believe this?
She grew to accept the dildos in her ass, came to find the sense of fullness welcome. She even began to feel tingles of pleasure when the dildos were inserted. Often she wondered what the king’s cock would feel like in her ass.
[Kitty looks up and hisses menacingly at the screen.]
Fury: Are you back to normal, now? Or shall I slap you to be sure?
Kitty: Don’t know. Probably the first one. Prolonged rape and assault don’t work that way. Assbag.
Days must have passed. Twice, when the murmer of orcs seemed least and the orc warrens seemed to sleep she brought herself to climax by working her clit.
Fury: My, that draught certainly has reawakened the minx in her.
Kitty: She shouldn’t have this much of an inner minx at all, let alone now that she’s had three kids! Tolkien was clear about that! Elves only stay frisky until they’ve had kids, and then it tapers off and they focus on other stuff! She shouldn’t be experiencing a revival of her sex drive due to black magic and repeated instances of rape!
Dammit, I can’t tell if I’m angrier at Daeum for how he’s portraying rape and its effects, or for how little research he clearly did while writing this!
One day the orcs came to remove the dildo and did not replace it. This time they left it with her so that she could stare in wonder at the thing that had filled her.
Fury: Perhaps she can beat herself to death with it? It is evidently large enough to serve as a suitable club.
It was the width of the king’s member, though not as long: a three inch bulb with two inch shaft. It was bigger than her fist and it had sat for hours or days in her ass with, by the end, no sense of discomfort.
Kitty: So this massive, incredible, monstrous penis the orc king sports and that has been consistently touted as bigger than all but the most gigantic of actual dildos that exist…
Is only around half an inch thicker than the average erect human penis? Or, in fact, smaller than the average erect human penis, if we assume the two inches refer to the dildo’s circumference rather than its diameter?
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, DAEUM?!
Fury: Perhaps Daeum is female, after all.
Kitty: DAEUM IS AN AMORPHOUS BLOB OF POND SCUM.
In amazement, she reached a hand to her ass and felt her anus. It had sunken deep into her body. The flesh around her anus seemed drawn and warm. She almost pushed a finger through to probe inside her but caught herself.
Kitty: I would just like everyone to know that I had to watch some very horrific videos to ascertain the validity of this statement.
All I will say is that it appears to take some extreme punishment to make a butthole sink in on itself the way Daeum is describing. Certainly a regular-sized penis – or a pencil dick – wouldn’t be enough, although that might change with extended penetration. That dildo is basically the width of a big poop, or else the circumference of a smallish one. I think her butt is fine.
“What have I become,” she sobbed. She sobbed.
Fury: And that is what happens when I forcibly possess someone who is not of my blood.
But she returned the dildo to her ass. She let the straps dangle down the back of her thighs under her gown.
Kitty: I mean it’s not like that little thing’s gonna do any damage. Knock yourself out, I guess.
Fury: Refresh my memory: Acceptance is the final stage of the grief cycle, correct?
Kitty: That’s not acceptance. It’s resignation.
When the door opened next, she expected a summons to the king so that he could resume the assault on her ass, this time with guarantee of success. The thought of the king’s ministrations filled her with both loathing and anticipation.
[Kitty visibly perks up amidst her blanket nest.]
Fury: What is it? You look vastly more emotionally invested in this story than you have been thus far.
Kitty: Shhh. We’re about to meet him.
Fury: [very sarcastically and clearly not understanding who Kitty is referring to] Ah, yes. Him. However did I forget?
But the orcs shoved a body through the door instead. The figure fell to the ground clutching his arms to his chest. Beneath caked mud and blood, she caught the glint of sliver hair and the curve of an elvish ear.
Kitty: [pointing with the hand that isn’t holding Fluffy to her chest] Him.
Fury: Wonderful. Celebrían has been given an elvish playmate.
Kitty: Not even close. Also silver hair is dumb; maybe the evacuation thingy will fix that, silver not being an incredibly common hair color for non-noble Elves.
She did not move to the man at first but in time his pitiful, semi-conscious moans drew her to his side. She rolled him onto his back and started. His face was battered, his lips were cut and his front teeth were missing but the shock was that his hands were cut off at the wrists.
Kitty: I’ll bet we can get some replacement teeth made. Definitely some simple prosthetic hands.
Fury: Do you not have enough original characters? Must you steal those of other writers, as well?
Kitty: It’s not theft if you’re saving one from an abusive and very stupid amateur. More a rescue-seizure, then.
Fury: He is an Elf, not a dog.
Kitty: OC neglect is an atrocious crime, and he’s a clear victim of it.
She nursed him through several visits by the orc-guards. These visits brought no summons to the king or further dildos but rags for the man’s wounds and water and food for nourishment.
Fury: Oh, yes, he is very much a victim of neglect. I suppose next they will subject him to a soothing deep tissue massage.
Kitty: You haven’t read as far ahead as I have. You don’t know.
In the days before he regained full lucidity, she had time to turn her thoughts again to rescue. She recognized the elf as Ithalond from Rivendell. And had she had any doubt that Elrond still sought her, the elf’s babbling during which he spoke of searching and Elrond’s fear for his wife dispelled it.
Fury: Kitty, put your phone away.
Kitty: I’ve checked and cross-checked five different sources. Even the pur–
[checks herself with a flush]
Er, even the mega-Tolkien fans at the PPC don’t seem to have a translation for his name, and these are the people that took the time to figure out that Laura is pretty damn close to a legitimate Elvish name meaning “golden.”
I wonder if Ithalond would like a new name to celebrate his escape?
[Fury lets out a long, frustrated sigh.]
What type of wife will he find? She thought. She should take her life and the life of this cripple. Neither of them would end well at the hands of the orcs. She knew it was only for some nefarious purpose that they put him in here with her.
Fury: Ah, of course. Place one victim with another and allow both to suffer from their own torments as well as empathy for each other. I wonder if one will be ordered to kill the other at some point…?
Kitty: Aren’t you supposed to be a good king?
Fury: If you are allowed to do extensive research into torture methods, then so am I.
But she could not bring herself to strangle the poor warrior who had risked all to find her. She did remove the dildo from her ass and hid it in the slop bucket.
Kitty: Oh, dude, don’t hide it in the food! That’s disgusting! Holy shit, I thought you didn’t want to torture poor Ithalond!
Fury: I have to agree. There are piles of hay in your cell and Ithalond is in no condition to wander about and dig through them. Surely hiding the dildo in a corner of the room and under a bit of hay was an equally feasible option.
She woke to her the sound her name.
Kitty: I think that sentence just liquefied one of my kidneys.
“Celebrian,” said a weak, hoarse voice.
Fury: I see there are perks to being incorporeal that even I had not considered.
[Kitty whimpers from within the depths of her now very food-splattered blankets.]
It was her handless companion in her cell.
Fury: And here I had hoped it would be Santa Claus.
“Yes, Ithalond,” she said, keeping her gaze averted from.
Fury: Daeum, it is incredibly impolite not to finish your thought – to say nothing of how irritating it is for your readers.
“I have found you,” he said weakly. “oh, what have they done to me,” he said as he realized the source of the pain in his arms. He began to cry.
Fury: That certainly took a while. Then again, the poor man has been incoherent for an extended period of time.
Kitty: [resurfacing in time for a slice of sandwich bread to slide down and fall on her head] He’s crying, Fury. He’s a seasoned elvish warrior and he’s crying.
Though shamed by her degradation, Celebrian could help but comfort the once proud warrior. She took him into her arms and rocked him. In time he regained his composure.
Kitty: Look, she’s remembering herself!
“No matter that they have done to me, my lady, or—or—even to you,” he said with hesitation. “Elrond will find us and make things well. He stops at nothing in his search for you.”
[Kitty makes a long, distressed noise in the back of her throat.]
Celebrian began to sob.
“No! My lady, do not cry. It matters not what has happened only that you will soon be free. They can sully your body but not your heart.”
[Kitty makes gradually louder distressed noises.]
Fury: Kitty, stop making those noises. You’ll frighten the Patrons.
Celebrian continued to cry.
Kitty: Believe it or not, that’s actually the end of that scene. There’s no break to tell us as much, though.
When the door next open, they took her from the cell and left Ithalond behind. She retraced the path to the king’s chamber. The orcs, male and female, leered and jeered at her as before but this time she noticed many wounded and maimed orcs as well. They had been fighting. Her husband was drawing near. Perhaps there was an end in sight. She allowed herself some small hope.
Kitty: Ha. There’s no hope here. Only physically impossible rape. You’ll get free when the author decides it’s time for the next wave of horror.
She was still in her gown and boots when she was forced to kneel before the orc-king. He focused her mind on her hope and tried to forget the terrible draught they would soon force down her throat.
Fury: I am beginning to suspect that the undressing fetish is in reality another form of salirophilia.
But the draught never came. An hour or more passed. The king attended to various matters of guard-postings and reports of elves. She heard orcs come and go behind. She heard things being dragged into the room behind her but did not turn to see. Her hope grew as she listened to the reports of encounters with her husband’s warriors.
Kitty: So Celebrían’s just sitting there in front of the orc king while they go over all of this? I smell a Star Wars reference.
Fury: Jabba the Hutt would not appreciate the comparison, child.
Kitty: I’ll send him an apology gift basket when we’re done here.
Fury: Should we not finish here? I do not see a more appropriate stopping point for the next several pages.
Kitty: Yeah, you’re probably right. We need to get ready to evacuate poor Ithalond, anyway.
Patrons, bring lots of comfort objects next time. You’re going to need them for what’s coming.