Fuck Hobbits
“YOU. SHALL. NOT. PASS!” Gregory declared.
“Overdramatic much?” Nick noted.
“Your wife’s orders…”
“What?!!”
Nick pushed through to find a mess of hairy feet, and flowing vests.
“Lady Galadriel would never fuck hobbits, Rachel!” He shouted.
“She would fuck everyone with this…” the magical ring glowed. “Join the Fellowship…”
“You have my cock…” he mumbled.
I first read The Lord of the Rings many moons ago and I enjoyed it immensely though I was never the most passionate fan in the family. That title belonged – and still does – to my mother.
I also remember quite clearly when the first movie in the original trilogy came out. The whole thing was amazing from start to finish and, to this day, The Fellowship of the Ring is still my favorite.
If you’re familiar with the source material then the references should be clear. Gandalf, The One Ring, Dark Galadriel, hobbits, and fans join forces for a bit of magical fun. Offer your cock to her, too.
Worship
“Alexandra?”
“Yes, General?”
“You’re in Malta now?”
“Yes, lovely country. The Mosta Dome is particularly stunning.”
“Fuck! So that’s why there are five hundred people kneeling inside on a Monday afternoon!”
“Yes, this church survived the World War Two bombings but it won’t survive me. It’s worship time, bye.”
The General hung up and sighed.
The image above is from the Mosta Dome, a church in Malta that as History goes, did indeed survive a German Bombing in World War Two.
On April 9th, 1942, a bomb weighing approximately 500 kg was dropped on the church while a congregation of some 300 people were awaiting mass. Even though it came crashing through the ceiling, it failed to detonate when it hit the floor perhaps through some real divine intervention, who knows? To this day, a replica bomb is on display at the back of the church.
Seeing Alexandra is continuing to enjoy her holidays in these snippets for the time being, I thought it would be fun to use the reference somehow and this is what I did. Goddess worship is so much better anyway.
The Word “Man”
He stood in the center of the darkened room, a dozen of regal, female eyes staring down at him.
“Any last words?” One of the Judges said.
“I will always be free!” He spat.
“Wrong,” they replied in unison.
Electricity flowed all around, frying his brain. The word “man” ceased to exist, only “slave” remained.
As I mentioned a few times in the past, I have lots of ideas at the same time. I also have plenty of drafts and unfinished concepts waiting to be put to good use. One of them involves a dystopian Femdom society where a rebellion of men is crushed one by one through bogus trials and forced brainwashing. Maybe I’ll write it some day but, for the time being, I have plenty of other things going on and there’s not enough time in a day to write them all.
Consider this piece a little taste of it.
Starting to Regret
Peter confronted his reflection in the mirror.
“I look ridiculous.”
“Nonsense! You’re adorable!” Martha replied.
“I’m starting to regret asking you to hypnotize me into being of service.”
“No you aren’t, and service is what I want it to be.”
“Why is making me wear a purple dress service?”
“Because they were out of pink.”
It’s impromptu time again and this piece was inspired by a couple I saw walking on the street near work earlier today. They were both wearing bright purple but she wore the pants.
I wrote this silly piece shortly after seeing them. And yes, service is whatever your Domme wants it to be.