Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings. Rather obvious.

-:-xXx-:-

mysterious-muse: Ok, this is funny I got TWO reviews from you, because, as I noticed, your review for Chapter 4 was waiting in my inbox as SOON as I posted Chapter 5, so I couldn't credit that review on my last chapter. Darnit! Lol, ain't that nutty? Anyways, thank you for your kind reviews, here is more for you, and I'm happy you're interested in the story! I'm spending a lot of time on it, apparently. Haw.

Lady Lalaith: Those narsty orcs, mwahah, still...one of the best stories? –BLUSHO SUPREMO- Thankee! And YES! As life has taught ME, you must stay alive. Enjoy!

Abby: Thank you! ;p I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! FrodoSam love is so strong...I envy them sometimes, lol. Ooh, yes, Angry!Sam. HOTT. ;o No worries, hun, we are ALL not alone:D Hope you enjoy this next part!

Anouch: Hey, glad you liked the chapter:( Yeah, Frodo and Sam are always thinking of each other in the most evil of places SQUEE Frodo is a little cutie, huh? Pinches his cheek

British Child: Teehee. That's all I can say. Teehee. I unleashed my evil side on poor, innocent Frodo. Poor, poor Frodo. I don't want you to spasm uncontrollably, but it's about to get even WORSE. Lol, your review made me laugh Thanks for the comment, and enjoy this? Maybe...? ...Please...?

-:-xXx-:-

Bleeding Scars

Chapter Five: Aftermath

-:-xXx-:-

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sam sighed slowly, gazing around his prison with exhausted eyes and grazed wrists. All he could hear was the constant, annoying dribble of dirty water coming from the ceiling and the sounds of Frodo's screams echoing in his head as he had been carried away.

Oh, Frodo...how could I have let you be taken from your Sam like that? How...how could I? Lor' knows what they'll be doing t'you now...what that damned Snaga is doin' to you! Oh, Frodo...I'm so sorry...

Since the time that had happened, Grimlok, the other of the two captors, had disappeared, leaving Sam alone with his guilt and his thoughts.

He sniffed back angry tears and shivered. His crusted scabs on his back stung painfully and he shivered a little, feeling the damp air reach his bare skin. His torn trousers hung from his hips and legs, providing him with little warmth.

He thought of how his dear master must have felt, sitting here in the dark, stripped of everything he was carrying, until only his naked skin remained. He thought of how, even when Frodo shuddered from the menacing cold, he didn't seem to care. He simply kept silent, not wishing to complain – if not for the sake of his Sam to hold him – and seemed to be staring absently at the wall.

It's that Ring, Sam told himself. That Ring. Those orcs must have it, and Frodo must be tearin' himself up over it. But it ain't his fault – none of this is. Gollum...that's the name that's at fault here, and no mistake.

He suddenly stopped, snapping his head towards the sound of footsteps clattering on the old ladder. Akhrásh appeared all of a sudden, his whip laced over his strong, muscular body, entwining with his scars. Sam jolted to life in an instant.

"What've you done to 'im, you filth!" screamed the brave hobbit, attracting the sneering orc's attention. "Where is he?"

Guffawing horribly, Akhrásh gave Sam a sharp kick in the knees, sending him flailing to the ground, his face contorted in pain. "Keep yer mouth closed, vermin," he spat, leering over Sam with victory in his eyes. "Yer littl' mouse is perfectly safe in Snaga's hands...he's bein' well taken care of, he is – "

"How, exactly!" roared Sam, scrambling upright again, fury blazing through his body. "What is that dirty orc doin' to my master?"

Akhrásh pulled a face – a face that could simply be described of as burning triumph...a look that contained a burning comeback and he was desperate to blurt it out. Grasping hold of Sam's golden brown hair, he yanked him closer (ignoring Sam's grunt of pain) and pressed his nose so close to Sam's, Sam could smell what the orc had had for dinner earlier that night.

It didn't smell good.

"Oh, I think y'already know," Akhrásh muttered venomously, mockingly patting Sam on the cheek. "I bet y'practised it yerself with 'im many a time, eh?"

Sam wrenched away from the vice grip and felt his whole body, heart and soul slump together in one, big, messy heap. Frodo...he thought, his hands trembling along with his weeping heart. My Frodo...my beautiful, perfect Frodo...brought to be tormented and molested with these disgustin' pieces of filth...

He thought of Frodo at this very moment now. Bound, helpless, and all alone. All alone, that is, aside from that wretched Snaga, who was forcing Frodo to do every bidding that he desired. Snaga had Frodo's body in his slimy claws, and could do whatever he wanted with it. Sam imagined Frodo in agony...moaning, writhing and screaming on the ground after being forced on.

He was screaming for Sam.

"Oh, Frodo..." the younger hobbit wept, clenching his fists together and feeling them shake. "Frodo...Frodo-love...No!"

Akhrásh did nothing. He stood there with a malevolent smile on his tattered face, witnessing the brutal mind-slaughtering that he had just inflicted on his prisoner. He enjoyed the torture. It was his favourite part. Normally, he would settle for blood, torn flesh and cries of pain as he broke the skin. However, watching the gardener wrestle with his mind's thoughts of what may have happened was, he admitted, all the more better.

Because Sam was torturing himself. And it worked.

-:-xXx-:-

Snaga stirred a good many hours later. He did not know how that he had managed to fall asleep, all except from exhaustion. He frowned and looked around suspiciously, wondering what the reason was for this.

He had almost forgotten about the tiny hobbit lying in his arms.

And then, glancing down into Frodo's sleeping, dirt-streaked face, he understood, and remembered everything. He smiled slyly to himself, smirking at the little one's pale, bruised body against him, sticky from cold sweat. His lips were parted a little in slumber and his brow had coalesced, making him appear hurt and confused. He was shivering a little, his curls attached to his clammy forehead.

He was bleeding below. It was dotted along the ground, and on Snaga's hand.

Snaga chuckled and raked a slow, menacing claw down the crook of his prisoner's arm, cocking his head a little to one side and peering into Frodo's face. He continued to trace down Frodo's elbow and onto his navel, all the while whispering to him:

"Wake uuuppp...wake uuupppp..."

Frodo murmured something in his sleep. Then, stirring, his expression shifted along with his body as he fluttered his lids open.

And then it came. An enormous, sharp wave of torture rampaged through the rear of his body, carving its way through him like a long knife. He winched from the feel of it and curled into himself in an attempt to block it out. He turned his head and stared into Snaga's ugly face, peering over him.

"'Ad a good littl' nap, did we, my sweet?" the orc jeered, boring himself into Frodo's sunken blue eyes, full of pain. He laced his hand slowly to the front of Frodo and shifted his body closer, so that the hobbit lay with his back to him and Snaga's naked front was pressed against his sore area. His hand grasped for its target and lay there, all the while he was whispering in the poor creature's ear.

"We 'ad us a good time, didn't we?" he snarled, rubbing.

Frodo wept silent tears as he lay there, trembling, listening to the horrible words. He was deathly quiet, lying there like a limp fish, allowing the monster to rub him and touch him. His body felt broken – shattered like glass and he was unable to put it back together again. Why would he waste his time attempting something so impossible?

He tried anyway.

"No," he whispered, in a hollow, broken voice. He made an effort to move Snaga's forceful hand away from his most private areas, but his hands were quivering like leaves in a winter breeze. "Don't...no. Don't touch me...please..."

"Hush, sweet'art," continued Snaga, batting Frodo's feeble, pained attempt away and finishing what he was doing, all the time murmuring, sighing and groaning in his ear. "Mmmm...soft...elf silk, tha's what yer are..."

Frodo suppressed a sob. With the rush of that voice in his ear, everything came back again. The struggle, the hard, cold wall, the thoughts of Sam. And those words in his ear...against his cheek...in his mouth:

"Elf silk...my toy...lemme play with yer...yeah..."

"I said, don't touch me..." said Frodo, in a somewhat stronger voice, struggling to shift his broken body as far away as he could from his horrid tormentor. However, it wasn't long before he winced in pain from the past invasion and he groaned.

Snaga smiled wryly, moving closer to meet him again and slipping his oily arms around the hobbit's thin waist, trailing claws over the inside of his thighs. "I like it when yer fight me..." he hissed in Frodo's ear, feeling him shiver. "Make's me want it mor'...make's me want t'do things t'yer."

Shuddering in mild revulsion, Frodo closed his bruised eyelids and, without willing to, pictures of the events he had previously taken part of were rushing through his head last night. Voices became sharp and painful whilst images were nothing but a blur.

"Please...please stop – hurts..."

"Hush –" a hand over his mouth, cutting off his words. "Don't scream."

"Stop it...I'm begging you...!"

"Good...I want yer t'beg...makes me excited..."

"Please..."

"Oh, yeahh..."

He remembered his own hands having a life of their own, attempting weakly to shove the orcs attacks away from his body. "No...stop – get off..."

"Yeah – yeah, tha's right...shove me away, m'little rat...I'll just do it mor..."

"Sam..." he remembered sobbing openly, clawing at the ground to block out the pain, his blunt fingernails bleeding. "Sam..."

"Sam..."

Snaga sneered with glee inside at hearing the hobbit's shattered cry for his lover, tied and helpless himself in the tower. He would make him forget Sam. He would hold him down and touch him whenever he wanted, doing something different every time; experimenting. He was his own prisoner...just his, and he could do whatever he wanted with this little one. He would make him scream...weep...beg, driving into his soul many times a day until he could not go a day without it.

Until he forgot.

"Ssshh," he hushed seductively, "don't think abou' him. Yer with me now, righ'?"

Frodo blinked tears.

"Yeah..." snarled the orc, feeling a strange, twisted sense of power and control slide over him, each time that he saw Frodo's beautiful, naked body and the locked door, that could only be opened whenever he wanted it to. He knew that Frodo could not escape, even if he tried. The door was the only way out, and he had the only thing that could get him out.

"Y'wanna stay here w'me, don't yer?" said Snaga, pulling Frodo's rear to his own bare body, his black lips running over the hobbit's forearm as he spoke. "Yer like my touch, don't yer? Y'like...this..." and Frodo felt the orc's hand move in front of him again, groping.

Frodo felt dirty and disgusting. He felt dry blood around his bottom and on the backs of his legs. Sweat dripped from his brow and his curls. It wasn't just his sweat. Dirt stained his white skin and he tasted bile in his mouth. At once, out of nowhere, he answered Snaga's question by attempting to rise to his knees, wincing from the river of pain.

"What are yer doin', m'lovely?" cooed the orc sweetly, entwining his arm around Frodo's waist, pulling him back down to the floor on his sore bottom, ignoring his gasp of pain. His own legs encased Frodo's, pulling his private parts closer to his prisoner and he slowly licked at the sweat on the hobbit's back with his slimy tongue.

"I..." Frodo breathed, attempting feebly to pull himself free, but Snaga was too strong and held him back, pulling him ever closer. He felt something hardening behind him.

"Oooh, I could jus' eat yer up," Snaga growled, nipping at Frodo's shoulder blades. He clenched Frodo's buttock in another tight squeeze, seeing the hobbit's toes curl from the reflex. "Every last drop..."

"Sam..." Frodo gasped, the orc's grip crushing his ribs as he tried to pull himself away. "Must...see...Sam..."

Before he realised, Snaga had jerked him back so sharply he felt the cold stone beneath his spine again, the monster's hand creeping slowly up his legs and pulling them apart. His heart raced and his mind exploded. No...not again! Surely...surely not again?

"N-no!" he cried out, struggling to rise into a seated position, or to at least move away from him. "Not again – please!"

It was difficult for him to escape the orc's grip, who, in Frodo's current state, was at least three times stronger than himself. "Quiet, now," whispered Snaga, excitedly, leaning forward with his body weight on Frodo's, taking his nipples between his claws and pinching them hard. Frodo's body went rigid with shock and he clenched his teeth.

"That hurts – stop it!"

He knew that he wouldn't listen.

"Y'll learn t'love it, in due time, m'lovely," growled the orc, bending down to flick the raised nipples with his saliva-coated tongue. "Y'll love t'pain...yer will wan' me t'make yer bleed..." Frodo recognised the growing excitement in his words.

"No..." he pleaded, tears coating his lashes. "Please! No! Not again! I...I can't bear it – it hurts..."

Lips clamped onto his, swallowing his voice and his sobs. "I know it hurts," Snaga growled, shifting his hand beneath Frodo's rear and pulling it closer, moving it up and down in time with his so their hips grinded together. "I know it hurts. I need every drop of yer...an' I'm so thirsty..."

-:-xXx-:-

Narzuk paced down to the cellars below, ready to collect the canister of liquid that Grimlok had ordered him to fetch. He wasn't exactly sure how it was going to be used, but he knew that that filthy rat he had knocked out earlier had something to do with it, up in the tower.

He reached up high and grasped it in his big hands, checking to see if it was still full. He shook it. It would do. He turned on his heel and began to march his way back to the tower stairs, when all of a sudden he heard a smarmy voice, demanding and passionate, echoing from the basement of the cellar, in a dark cell that was usually only kept for supplies.

"Oh...yeah...ooohh, good...Ohhh – no, no...don't get up...yer not goin' anywhere...Mmm...that's good..."

Narzuk smiled to himself and, taking the canister with him, headed on over, hearing the orgasmic noises getting louder and louder, coming from inside the cell.

Maybe that scum got a littl' lonely all my 'imself, he thought with dry humour.

It was then that he heard the pained pants and groans of someone else in there too – so he wasn't alone! He sneaked along the dark, smelly corridor and peered through the gap in the door between the hinges.

He could hear Snaga's voice now; he was the one who had been speaking lustfully to whoever was in there. He could see the orc's naked form, his bottom facing the door, moving up and down rhythmically in time with his moans. Narzuk also thought he saw a faint glint of smooth thighs in the air, hairy toes curling, also in time.

I think I'll stay her' for a whil', he thought excitedly, squeezing the canister tightly in his fists; excited. He continued to stay near the doorway, hearing more pants and grunts and heaves -- !

"'Ey!" he then heard, Snaga's eyes appearing through the gap in the door. Narzuk noted that he was dripping with oily sweat, his face was flushed and he was struggling to catch his breath. "This ain't no peep show," he snarled. "Get goin'."

Narzuk scowled, looming over the doorframe, coating the smaller orc in shadow. "Don't think y'can start givin' me orders, ratbag," he threatened, pointing an accusing finger through the gap, straight between the orc's eyes. "Jus' 'cos you snagged the prize of a regular harlot rat don't giv' yer the right to order me abou'. Just watch yerself, or I let the others know, an' you won't lik' tha', now, would yer?"

Snaga spat at him.

"Now get back to yer littl' sex slave," sneered Narzuk, heading back up the tower stairs. "And keep yer mouth shut where it don't belong."

And as he left, Snaga whirled around to stare at the bleeding, trembling body of Frodo, gazing longingly at the door, as if silently pleading for help. He grinned as he made his way back to him, straddling him again and completing what he had begun again.

"Sorry 'bout that...interruption, m'lovely," he soothed as he joined their bodies once more. "Look's lik' I'm not th' only one that wants a piece o'yer...but I ain't gonna share...oh no...yer all mine...my littl' harlot...oh, yeeaahhhhh..."

At least, he thought dryly as he chewed on Frodo's neck, grasping hold of the back of his head and cradling him against his bare shoulder as he moved, I'm keepin' my mouth where it belongs...

-:-xXx-:-

A/N: Oooh, is it just me, or is anyone else starting to enjoy the Frodo/Snaga stuff? OO I know I am, but there we go. dodges fruit I KNOW I KNOW IT IS BAD! But it's HOTT. Another favourite pairing of mine to add to the list Anyway, review? Please? ;p