Chapter 0 - Ravishing the Evenstar:

Arwen Undomiel knew that the Ringwraiths were out and abroad as of late. Nine immortal liches, including the former Witch-King of Angmar. Each of them resurrected, seemingly, from the grave to which the defeat of their master in earlier years had confined them. Nine figues of such power that they could, if they encountered her unawares easily overpower her, and perhaps even bring her to the dreadful Dark Tower from which ruled the sinister Dark Lord, last of the Ainur to remain in physical form. Arwen also knew that her very resemblance to Luthien Tinuviel was not to her advantage here, as Sauron still greatly resented the easy victory that Luthien had won against him and his minions in times that were. But then again she was a daughter of Elrond, able to command the elements themselves if she wished.

And she was a young Elleth, relatively speaking, who believed that in the course of a visit to Lothlorien, nothing could possibly go wrong. Who would dare attack the daughter of Elrond when she could even with her eldritch beauty blend into the shadows if she wished? It was a lovely afternoon, and after several hours of hard riding and two days of not bathing, Arwen decided it would be time to take a quick bath. Tethering her horse to a tree, she gracefully slid off her dress, standing fully nude in the bright sunlight. Angling her face up, smiling, she enjoyed the feeling of the Sun and the wind on her skin, caressing her gently. She smiled and stepped into the river, moaning a bit at how cold the water was, but enjoyed bathing herself. So lost was she in the joy of the water and feeling her own soft skin, hands gently caressing her tits, massaging the flesh and working the nipples to hardness, keeping her right hand massaging both tits as her left slipped between her legs.

Cooing at the feeling, Arwen failed to notice or hear her horse bucking, or to recognize the seeming chill that was creeping around, small elements of frost following. Indeed, with her eyes closed, she fantasized in her usual fashion her deepest and darkest fantasy. Captured by bestial Orcs, stripped with her clothes torn off of her, and then her hands tied with her legs splayed wide. The first Orc, a massive and ugly ape-like creature leaning forward and laughing as it kissed her gently, before roughly yanking her hair back and thrusting into her mouth with a huge and oversized organ that claimed her, balls slapping against her chin. Two other Orcs thrusting inside her pussy and ass with a brute bestiality that left her whimpering and crying, aware that the Orcs were her masters, as her hands jacked off two other Orc cocks that were massive in her hands, to a point that she struggled to control them. She was so engrossed in the fantasy that it was only when the Ringwraiths were gathered around her that Arwen opened her eyes and realized just what they'd been watching for the last few minutes. Her face deeply reddened and humiliated and frightened, Arwen saw one of the Wraiths pointing at her with the Morgul blade, telling her to come over to them.

Afraid, but not petrified, Arwen dumbly nodded and stepped out of the water, standing before the Ringwraiths visibly terrified. Her fear only rose when she saw the tents pitched in each of their robes, but fear became anger and her own Power surged forth with an attempt to speak an incanation in Quenya that would if not banish them at least give her room to reach her dress. The effect, however, was disrupted when the Witch-King calmly stepped in front of her and merely stared her down. The Power in those eyes interrupted Arwen mid-word and at a single nod she found herself on her knees, hands behind her head.

A rumbling voice that echoed with the hollowness of a death denied by the nine rings that glowed on each of the Wraiths' gloves spoke:

"Once, my dear, I was a King of the blood of Westernesse. Ours is the House of Elros, brother to your own father." His sepulchral echoing laugh was terrible, as his form gazed into her eyes, Arwen gazing in spellbound horror.

"Well, not just mine. Of us, six are Westernessean in origin, descendants of the Sea-Kings who served the God-Emperor on the Black Throne. We serve the Lord and Master of Mankind, and sincee six of us are your very distant relatives, daughter of Elrond, we decided that we and our three fellows from the East should be willing to," and she heard the Witch-King laugh as his hand roamed down her body, caressing her face, rubbing her lip with a mocking tenderness, and then going down her neck and chest to rest upon her tit, gently massaging it, "sample you." That terrible hellish laughter again and Arwen saw the Wraiths slip off their clothing.

To a human the sight would have been bizarre, nine gloves and metal boots suspended in mid-air with nothing else. An Elleth of the Firstborn was not so lucky. To her were visible nine Liches, each of them gaunt skeletons barely covered by flesh. Yet the Power that was within them favored sadism and debauchery and both this and other motivations meant that her would-be claimers' cocks were longer and thicker than the average. Long and thick enough, in fact, that they were at least twice the normal length of a human cock and thick enough if they intended her to suck them off, and they probably would, she realized with a chilled feeling, then she'd have some problems.

The Witch-King went first, striding to her and tapping her lips with his cock. He said, "Open up, slut."

When she stubbornly kept her lips shut, he hissed, "Now" in a deep and terrifying hiss that led to her automatically opening her mouth and taking in the cock. She was right, the head alone was one that defied any that she'd seen before, flaccid or erect, and the shaft as well meant that she had to work on taking it into her mouth without dislocating her jaw. Hollowing her cheeks, she took it deeper and found herself leaning forward against her will on her knees, her legs spread. To her own deep and secret shame, her fantasy seemed about to come true as she felt her hand slide around two others of these enormous (and erect) cocks and then one of the cocks sliding into her slippery wet pussy as the Wraith groaned, "Elf whore is tight as fuck." She whimpered and then screamed around the dick in her mouth, accidentally deep-throating it when another of the cocks after probing against her ass thrust in without so much as a warning, eyes tearing up with the pain.

The feeling of being cheap and used didn't help the situation either, nor did the Witch-King holding her head solid as he proceeded to fuck her mouth with a set of jackhammer thrusts that kept her struggling at times to breathe, as her wet pussy was soon clinching around the cock in it and the feeling of that cock rubbing against the one in her ass only brought her still further pleasure. The humiliations would further mount as the cock in her mouth blew a load that was surprisingly strong and thick, shooting down her throat with what seemed like a firehose and then making her cheeks swell with the rest of it, though she gulped it down without spilling a drop even when the sight of this led the cocks she was jacking off to splatter on her face, covering it in cum and leaving her with the humiliation that she actually enjoyed the shame, even when another cock replaced the first in her mouth without further ado.

As the cocks in her pussy and ass shot their own loads, of equal potency to the one she'd swallowed and that coated her face, dripping down her neck and onto her tits, Arwen whimpered when the Witch-King replaced the one in her ass, hissing into her ear, "First one end, then the other. And then I finish with your pussy, my dear kinswoman." The other Nazgul were less vocal to a degree but what they did say, a combination of coarse laughter and "Fucking Elf slut's skin feels like velvet. God damn she's awesome," and "I love this fucking Elf cunt," left her equally deeply ashamed of herself. She realized that coarse and cruel statements like this turned her on, and that it was even better and hotter than her fantasy.

She knew that Elves were supposed to fade when raped. Yet, given her fantasy, given how much her body reacted to this pleasure, how much then was she actually being raped, if at all? She wanted something like this to happen, to be taken, used, abused, pounded like a cheap tavern slut. And she was getting it, the Witch-King thrusting into her ass with stamina that was quite impressive and marked by multiple loads thrusted down her throat, covering her face to a point that it looked like a cheap kind of tawdry and decadent concealment of her features, and multiple loads filling up her pussy and flowing down her legs. Then the Witch-King came inside her ass and quite contentedly rubbed against her back, thrusting with a set of deep grunts, until he got hard again and then slid inside her well-fucked and oozing cunt. Whimpering with pleasure, Arwen came with a set of screeches, as the combination finally broke down her dignity, the orgasms flowing repeatedly as she clasped the Witch-King with surprising strength, digging her hands into his flesh deep enough that even the undead skeletal form would bruise (leaving Sauron to ask sharp and curious questions of his henchmen purely for the pleasure to watch them squirm). After the orgasms had exhausted her, Arwen slid off of the Witch-King, and was pushed on her back, before the Witch-King and his cronies began to jack off around her, her glazed-over eyes and cum-coated face marked by a smile. When they came and splattered all over her with a set of loads that painted her flesh white, the Ulairi laughed and strode off.

Arwen lay there semi-conscious for a couple of hours, and as she sat up, she heard coarse Orcish laughter and heard them saying, "If them Black Riders did her like that, wait until she sees what we'll do to her." Arwen's eyes widened and she whimpered in a mixture of anticipation, fear, and utmost delight as the Orcs began to ring her.....
