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Azof and the Cult of the Scorpion Goddess	By : kspence Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 2995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-1.
- 2-2.
- 3-3.
- 4-4.
- 5-5.
- 6-6.
- 7-7.
- 8-8.
- 9-9.
- 10-10.
- 11-11.
- 8
- 9
- 10
A rush of heat pooled low down in Azof’s belly. Arousal flooded through him as his cock jerked itself upright and a series of thoughts and images – not entirely of his own devising – flickered through his head.
He wondered where he was, before realizing - that wasn’t important. Not important ‘cause it was – dead good, where he was (wherever he was) - to be lying here like this.
Euphoric. That was the fancy word for what they called it. It was brilliant, being here, without a care in the word, and he felt – bloody euphoric.
For a time Azof drifted. He felt…sore all over, but it was a good kind of sore – like his muscles had had a decent work-out, the proper way to feel at the end of a job well done.
‘A job well done?’ Azof thought distantly. Since being conscripted he’d been landed with all manner of demeaning and mind-numbingly crappy work-details but couldn’t at the end of any of them say he ever felt any sense of satisfaction, exactly -
But! There was no need for him to think about that.
He was sore all over but for some reason he was also really, really turned on.
Next he saw himself and Yildiz lying together, their young bodies joined.
That was kind of weird ‘cause he was lying right on top of her, and it was – like an odd perspective thing wasn’t it? For him to be looking down on himself like this and seeing…..seeing the back of his head. Lawks, he did have a short neck didn’t he? Now he could see what them other ones were always on at him about.   He didn’t really have much of a neck to speak of, did he? And, and, that was a well nasty cut he had – deep and bleeding and it went right across his back. That looked proper painful. Azof wondered where he’d gotten it from.
But never mind that anyway because –
Blow me if that mouthy bastard Rugratz wasn’t right after all because from this angle – Azof thought he might be kind of looking like he was developing love-handles….
It wasn’t – helpful this, all this continually getting side-tracked. It’d be better if he’d just give in to it, Azof thought (someone thought). Now he could feel the sublime warmth of Yildiz all around him – it could be like this always, those thoughts that weren’t entirely Azof’s own thoughts said. She’d be soft and warm and yielding, and they’d stay like this forever: her wanting him, forever wrapped tight around his cock. Now he saw that they were rutting hard together, his prick sunk deep in Yildiz to its root -
Fitfully, Azof shook his head. Now, that definitely weren’t right. Yildiz, for starters, didn’t want Azof or yield for him so much as she…found him to be a right pain in the backside, to be honest. Azof knew from the way she looked at him. He could tell she reckoned he was a bit thick.
And as for him and Yildiz? He’d know for definite if they’d done that.
Details didn’t matter. The though came to Azof that he would be better giving into it –
Details? Azof thought. His first time with a lay-dee? That was hardly what he’d count as a detail that didn’t matter -
His guts twisted and all at once the sensation in his lower regions heightened to the point of pain, which increased, and increased in intensity until Azof’s body seized and convulsed, his spine arching back and his hips bucking feebly. Under its continuing onslaught the unfortunate Orc groaned, vomited, wet himself and shot his load into his pants painfully – and all at once. Afterwards he rolled onto his side, shivering and quaking in a pool of warm urine and acrid puke and come.
Ghastly as his situation was, worse was yet was in store for him.
Azof was lying on a low platform made of stone. He rolled further – slipped in his own body-fluids, skidded off the narrow surface and went crashing to the floor, banging his head.
On similar slabs to the right and left of him were reposing Rugratz and Narkul, fast asleep and, from the occasional grunts of pleasure they were making, apparently enjoying it. Azof’s vision swam - he blinked bleary eyes; the two Orcs seemed to be covered with a number of slowly moving, gently glowing discs. Through their clothes Azof could see the discs shifting lazily and changing place -
As his eyesight cleared and the scene before him resolved itself in focus he realized that the glowing things he could see moving over his companions were living creatures: they were immature scorpions, scorpions the size of dinner plates.
He had the awful things on him, too. The heads and forelimbs were clawed and chitinous, as was the tail that at this stage was represented by only a tiny, barbed nub, but their bodies were grey and leathery-textured - tick-like - shaped like loose, sagging sacs. Bags for blood that were slowly filling with his – with Azof’s blood, the young Orc realized, as a fresh shiver of revulsion thrilled through him.
There was barely any pain from the places they were attached, but two of them were hanging onto his arms – mouthparts buried deep in his skin, and another one was sunk in near the top of his legs. Sobbing, his hands shaking with disgust Azof tried to claw the horrid creatures away from his body but it wasn’t easy: the sucking mouth-parts were firmly embedded in his flesh and the little pincers caught at his fingers, cutting, snapping and slashing.
Dark blood was streaming from the insides of both elbows and the junction of his groin by the time he was done. With a swipe of his forearm Azof dashed the infant parasites onto the floor. Sick and light-headed from blood-loss he moaned and clutched at the injured places, trying to staunch the flow. Staggering to Rugratz’s platform, he hunched over, supporting his body-weight on it. Rugratz had four of the bloodsuckers on him, but only two attached. Azof yanked them free and – with some relish – began slapping the older Orc back and forth.
“Rugratz,” he hissed, “Rugratz, snap out of it. Wake up, on account you’re being et alive by bleedin’ scorpions, ain’t you?”
If he’d thought about it, he would have gone to Narkul first. But Azof’s thoughts were coming sluggishly and he was sick, and though he did not know it, poisoned - disoriented in the aftermath of his ordeal. Every movement he made was difficult and it was Rugratz happened to be lying nearest. Not that Azof cared a fig for him, would never have bothered himself on that prick Rugratz’s behalf, but Narkul – a drop of moisture slid down Azof’s nose as thought about how good he’d been to Azof, had dear old Nark –
Azof’s legs gave out and he slipped, trembling, to the floor.
The girl’s voice broke in on Azof’s increasingly maudlin reverie. Yildliz, decked out in all her priestess robes and finery once again, had returned. She ran to the Orc, shouted at him and shook him where he was lying at the base of Rugratz’s pedestal. “Azof! What have you done?”
Azof cleared his throat and spat strange, bitter-tasting bile. “I ain’t done nuffink,” he replied weakly. “I just woke up with them ‘orrid things – “he gestured at the juvenile scorpions - now lying on the backs, clawed legs waving in the air – “crawling all over me!”
Full of concern Yildiz ran to them, started setting them upright. “But you have interrupted the sacred ritual! Why do you do this?” she demanded. “Do you not go willingly? Do you not go forth in joy?”
Azof goggled at her. “Wot?” he cried, hysterical, through gritted teeth. “You’re joking, ain’t c’her? Oo’d want this?”
Yildiz frowned. “But the goblin-men of Mordor are always willing. Your appetites are such that you are always quick to find your joy. Many times now have we seen it. It is why we favour your kind above all others, after all.”
“Appetites! That’s why you lot was so keen for us to fill our boots and stuff our faces –“ Azof caught his breath, stung by the realization, in spite of himself. “And – an’ that’s why – that’s the only reason you wanted to go to bed wiv’ me in the first place, isn’t it?”
Yildiz shrugged. “There are many forms of joy. Not to feel it is impossible. The Queen’s blessed essence –“
Azof shook his head. “Nah. You better ‘ave a pull the ovver one ‘cause it’s got bells on. I’m not gonna go be some willing, joyful sacrifice! Yildiz, I’m telling yer! I ain’t!”
The girl shook her head, still not believing him. “Such a thing has never happened before. I will need to meditate on it.”
“What? We ain’t got time for you to –“ afterwards he wasn’t exactly sure where the words came from – “ponder theological conundrums! Yildiz, you gotta help me, please!”
At last Rugratz was coming round. Azof left him and hobbled towards Narkul.
“The Queen of Light is coming,” Yildiz told Azof, in a matter-of-fact tone. “These young ones you discard?   They call to her. She must reach us soon.”
Azof could hear the chitinous buzzing again – the same shrill noise in his head that earlier in the evening had heralded the first approach of the Scorpion Queen. He looked left and right, nearly out of his wits with fright.
He thought, furiously. “She’s – she’s coming on account of the little ‘uns, isn’t she? They’re – precious to her, is that it?”
The priestess, crouching among the lesser scorpions, shrugged. Wasn’t it obvious? Yes, the mother would seek to protect her offspring: of course!
“Right then, Yildiz, give us your scarf –“ Azof snatched the gauzy length of fabric from her, shoved Yilldiz aside and began wrapping the infant scorpions round and round in it, finally knotting the ends together as best he could.   They struggled and jabbed at him through it, but for now the thin layers seemed to hold.
Rugratz, hacking and coughing, was heaving himself off his slab. “So you reckon you’re up an’ leaving us to it are you, you miserable little shit? Turning tail an’ running out on your two bezzy mates.” He spat. “Typical, innit. Fuckin’ coward.”
Ignoring his taunts Azof said - “You mightn’t remember you saw it, but a proper big one of them scorpion things is coming - like a giant one compared wiv’ these tiddlers I’ve got here. If I go now, odds are it’s gonna chase me. You c’n sit tight till it’s gone. Stay hid. Stay an’ sort Narkul out, all right?”
The older Orc snorted sceptically through his nose. “Hmph. ’Eroics, now, is it? You needn’t bother. Nobody’s facking impressed.”
Azof slung his makeshift bag of scorpions over his shoulder and turned to Yildiz. “Which way do I wanna go?”
She inclined her head. “Follow the second tunnel. It leads to the door in the mountain. It will take you outside.”
The Orc took her by the hand. “Yidiz,” he said, with a lopsided grin. “So, you – d’you wanna come wiv’ me?”
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Azof and the Cult of the Scorpion Goddess