To Capture the Heart of a Warrior

Chapter five: The Taming of Boromir






The sun was rising in a grey dawn when the Walkers stopped for a meal and a rest. This time their bed
had been made behind an out-crop of granite which enjoyed a screen of low bushes and scrubby trees. Again, there was a small and smokeless fire which caste a warm glow on the two lovers.

Boromir had only just gone into the little trysting-place and sat down when a small missile topped with
golden-brown curls launched itself at him and knocked him flat on his back. Boromir's low, rolling laughter
was heard by Aragorn, and the Ranger's ears tuned in to the goings-on.

The two lovers were aware of this. Knowing they were being listened to was heightening the pleasure of both. Boromir lay on his back just as he had been knocked down. Pippin climbed atop him, straddling his hips. He pulled Boromir’s shirt up and ran his fingertips lightly up and down Boromir’s belly. He could feel Boromir growing hard, his crotch swelled and hardened, pressing against Pippin’s little bottom.

He grinned wickedly, then stretched out along the big body beneath him. Again, he thought of his Man as a warm and princely bed. Boromir put his arms around Pippin as the halfling dipped his head for a kiss, but Pippin pushed the arms away, guiding them to lie quietly at Boromir’s sides. Pippin had a plan.

Again, he dipped his head and began kissing Boromir. Boromir lifted his arms for an embrace, and Pippin withdrew. Boromir looked confused and frustrated.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Pippin admonished, wagging a finger under Boromir’s nose as if he were an errant child. “Lie still, now. If you move one little bit, I’ll stop!” He took Boromir’s face in his hands and very forcefully kissed his Man. He let his tongue slip inside Boromir’s mouth and dart teasingly about. Boromir started breathing hard. Without breaking the kiss, Pippin took Boromir’s wrists, pulled them together, took his scarf from around his neck and tied Boromir’s wrists together. He sat up to observe his captive.

“Oh, now look at you, lying there so helpless.” Pippin smiled. Boromir saw something in Pippin’s eyes he had not seen before, a kind of predatory look. He suddenly understood what it was like for a rabbit to suddenly look into the eyes of a fox. He shivered a little, and a sudden heat seemed to coil in his middle. He could escape his bonds quite easily, true, but he was now curious about Pippin’s intentions and he was very aroused, so he played along.

Pippin slowly unbuttoned Boromir’s shirt and laid bare the broad chest. He ran his hands up Boromir’s chest, then tweaked his nipples, almost, but not quite hard. Then Pippin stood and knelt beside his big prize that lay so obediently still for him. Without removing Boromir’s boots, Pippin unlaced Boromir’s trousers. Boromir lifted his hips so Pippin could pull them down. The legs of the trousers were tight around his boots and couldn’t be pulled completely off. From Pippin’s jacket came a short length of rope. The halfling looped this around the fabric between Boromir’s ankles and secured the rope to a small tree trunk that so conveniently had grown in just the right place. Another bit of rope looped around Pippin’s scarf, which bound his wrists together, and Pippin then tied this bit of rope to another small tree trunk above Boromir’s head. Now Boromir was completely bound. The heat in Boromir’s belly rose. His surprise at this side of Pippin heightened his arousal and made him all the more compliant.

Now Pippin stood and quickly stripped, his eyes locked to Boromir’s eyes. Pippin looked like a predator, alright, a very hungry one. The hobbit raked his eyes up and down his captive warrior, and Boromir had the feeling he was about to be feasted upon.

Pippin took yet another item from his now cast-off jacket. It was the feather from the wing of an eagle. Pippin straddled Boromir’s hips once more. He pressed his bottom against the hardness he found there, giving a slow, tight grind of his little hips. Boromir groaned. Pippin took the feather and traced a path from Boromir’s lips to each nipple, twirling the feather around the hard little nubs. He trailed the feather down Boromir’s sides.

“I was naughty today, wasn’t I?” Pippin said, eyeing Boromir sharply.

“Y-yes, you were.” Boromir gasped, his skin crawling where the feather touched him. It seemed his skin would start giving off sparks with each stroke of the feather. “Is that what this is about? That you got a spanking?”

“Very observant, sweet boy. You may have been a Man then, but now, why now, Boromir, you’re just my sweet, helpless little lamb. And now it’s my turn to do what I will.”

Again Pippin continued his torment with the feather. Boromir could do nothing but writhe and moan. The feeling of helplessness amplified every stroke. Now Pippin kissed him, passing the feather around their lips as they kissed. Down Boromir’s jaw, down his neck to each taut nipple went both mouth and feather. There Pippin lingered until Boromir began to whimper.

With agonizing slowness, the feather and its companion, a hot and hungry hobbit’s tongue trailed slowly down, down, down. Boromir bit his lower lip to keep from crying out loud. Pippin twirled the feather around the tip of Boromir’s staff. His Man now trembled violently. Pippin used the tip of his tongue to wet the crown of Boromir’s staff, then blew on it. Pippin’s breath blew away the heat his tongue had put there. Up and down and around Boromir’s testicles the feather went as Pippin continued to tease with his tongue. Boromir’s breath came in ragged gasps, now, and he heard himself speak, though he tried his best not to.

“Oh, please, please, Pippin, you’re driving me mad…”

“I know.” Pippin smiled sweetly, looking up the length of Boromir’s body, locking into his eyes. His little tongue darted out once more to tickle and tease. Then he opened his mouth and took Boromir in, squeezing the shaft in his mouth as tightly as he could.

He then made matters much, much worse by sucking as hard as he could while digging the tip of his tongue into the underside of Boromir's cock, still tickling his testicles with the feather.

Outside their enclosure, Aragorn could hear every moan and whimper, ever word, every plea...

He could hear Pippin growling like a little cat and Boromir grunting like a stallion at stud. Boromir had begun to plead with Pippin.

Inside the enclosure, Pippin was enjoying his captive. With his mouth he brought Boromir to the very edge of release, then took his mouth away with a soft pop. Again he blew on the shaft.

"Oh, Pippin, Pippin, my sweet," gasped Boromir, "please, please let me come..."

"And if I do, will you mount me?"

"If you do, I'll do anything you say."

"As many times as I like?"

"Until you've drained me dry, my sweet, anything, I swear it."

"And will you obey me if I untie you?"

There was a bit of silence, then Boromir said, "Until the last time...or two. Then I want to take control."

Pippin grinned. "Done, then. But I'm not untying you just yet." He took Boromir into his mouth again and worked the shaft and head with his tongue, using all the skill and passion he had. Boromir's body went rigid beneath him. Pippin stopped again, looking Boromir in the eye. "Now I'm going to eat you up, my little boy. And you are going to come in my mouth, and I'm going to swallow every drop. And then you are going to service me. You will be my stud, and you will mount me until I'm satisfied. Is that what you want?"

"Oh, yes, yes, anything, anything at all, Little Teacher, Little Master...I'm yours, your possession, to do with anything you wish..."

Pippin plunged Boromir's shaft into his mouth as deeply as it would go. He used his hands as well, now, and it felt to Boromir as if he were being swallowed whole. Pippin moaned and hummed. Boromir's eyes squeezed shut. He arched his back and cried out in a deep roar as his juices were almost forcibly sucked from his body by the greedy and demanding mouth that captured him in a perfect suction. He forced his eyes open to watch Pippin gulp down his juices like a greedy child. Lying there bound up like a sheep being eaten alive had sharpened his passions until he felt he would die from pleasure. This was all very new to him. He'd had no idea he could be so easily captured, so easily owned, and that he would welcome, even long for this kind of love, this desire to be possessed.

And outside the enclosure, Aragorn had begun to absentmindedly rub his callused hand on his crotch, so engrossed in what he heard from the to lovers he didn’t hear Legolas approach…

To Be Continued