[One-Shot] Absolute Control
Title: Absolute Control
Author: kryss_delrhei
Fandom: Norse Mythology
Type: Original
Characters/Pairing: Fenrir, Hel, Garm, Ganglati, Ganglot
Word Count: 2,952
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG
Warning: kink, slight abuse, bondage, orgasm denial, rape/non-con
Summary: Chained by Vidar and beaten by Thor, Fenrir is tossed into the depths of Niflheim, only to be tortured even more by the ruler of the realm. Weak with despair, all Fenrir can do, is let it happen.
Disclaimer: Fidelity, its storyline, and characters are property of laurelrhea and myself. Though the whole norse mythology thing... that's so not mine.
Author's Notes: I haven't written anything with Hel before, though she's been one of my roleplay character for a while, though not a huge character, just one for plot purposes. This piece so did not come out the way that I wanted it to, but I like where it ended up all the same.
Prompt: kinky_prompts : #019 - Collars ( Table DIY)
--
His vision was filled with a bleary haze that did not seem to leave his sight, no matter how many times he tried to blink it away. The ground was cold and damp against his cheek as he felt a shiver of uneasiness travel his spine. His stomach filled with a queasy sense of dread that heightened as he weakly pushed himself up onto his palms.
Fenrir coughed his body aching from the beatings he had received from the other Æsir that had brought him to this disgusting hell-hole. He growled, the husky rumble reverberating around the damp dirt walls that symbolized his isolation and prison. Tree roots twisted and mangled their way up the walls, and in doing so they almost seemed to breath. Though, knowing the way that Niflheim worked, they probably did.
The wolf leaned back on his heels, coughing on the cold air as he brushed his dirty palms off on his thighs. The silver chain attached to his throat twinkled in the hazy mist, leading toward a coil of roots and almost looked as if it went clear through the dirt wall. Fenrir grumbled more and tugged on the silver chain, remembering as that cowardly Vidar had sneaked it around his neck.
And he had thought the boy wanted a little something more, but that no longer mattered, not now anyway, as Vidar had had Thor beat him to a bloody pulp after the chain had slipped snuggly around his throat. The chain gave no budge as he tugged on it harder, giving up when the roots failed to let go of it. For such a flimsy chain, it was very durable. Must be enchanted, Fenrir thought with a grumble. He wondered when the two of them had disposed of him in the deep recesses of Niflheim. Fenrir scratched at his mass of brown hair, mussing some of the braids that was tangled with his dried blood.
He sat back on the ground, pulling his feet out from under him and stretched them out, chewing angrily on the inside of his cheek with his canine. He gave the silver chain another tug, before falling back on the ground, arms spread out as an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. Fenrir lay there, chewing on his the inside of his cheek, as he gave his isolation a thought, the haze of his vision slowly clearing.
It would seem he would be in Niflheim’s icy depths for some time, for what? So Odin could parade around his throne room in his birthday suit for a few more millennia, entertaining that stoic brother of his? Fenrir growled, the deep rumble filling the eerie silence. It wasn’t like he had planned on killing Odin, not that the thought hadn’t been there, but still. If he killed the little twerp then where would the rest of the Æsir be without their precious All-Father? Cause surely Vili nor Vé would take over that position again, after having pawned the title off to their youngest sibling, to get rid of the responsibility in the first place.
Fenrir’s mind prattled on, moving to trying to figure out a semi-plausible way of escaping his confines, when the room filled with a loud rumble that shook the ground. The wolf jumped to his feet, drawing the silver chain taunt, almost tightening it around his throat. The roots of the icy tree curled, moving away from the end of the chain, back into the dark corners of the small room. Fenrir eyed the spot where the chain went flush into the wall, no hole for it to pass through, nothing. The other end just disappeared.
The dirt wall began to crack, running the full length down the wall, splitting in the middle, the chain loosening as slack was given. Fenrir almost barked for joy, til the damp room filled with a bright light. The wolf shielded his eyes, his other hand furiously tugged the chain toward him, hoping to grasp the end of it before it was discovered.
His thoughts of freedom were short lived.
“Silly fool…” a dark voice chuckled in the air, almost louder than the rumbling of the wall splitting in half. A make-shift doorway opened up, the bright light emitting from a hanging lantern carried overhead by a skeleton shambling behind the female who had just entered the small room. The chain grew taunt as a sculpted foot clad in binding heels stomped on the silver chain dragging across the dirt.
“Where you trying to escape, for I hope not.”
Fenrir growled, tugging hard on he chain, lowering his other hand to pull, “What gives you that idea?” he barked, barring his fangs, in a futile attempt.
“There is no end to it, if you must know,” her voice was sultry as it was menacing, “So I wouldn’t waste all that energy, on a meaningless task.”
The wolf snarled and bared his claws, swiping at the woman who stood nearly at his height of six and a half feet. He usually wasn’t as dangerous as he looked, nor how the other Æsir made him out to seem - on most occasions - but the rage had been pent up for too long it seemed, forcing him to lash out. Though none of his blows connected, and his body was worn and aching from the beating Thor had laid into him earlier. He stumbled on his footing and fell to his knees.
“Submissive already? That isn’t any fun, now is it?” She almost sounded like she was pouting, her voice taking a childish tone, before she chuckled, lowering her eyelashes, she stared down the line of her nose at him, “And here I was, hoping you would be a little more ferocious,” she licked her full lips, colored a crimson red. She snapped her fingers, the silver chain appearing in the palm of her right hand, the silver bands wrapped around her fingers, shimmered in the bright light.
“Are you ready, my pet?” She purred, yanking on the chain harshly before she narrowed her eyes, “Get on your feet!”
Unable to control his own actions, Fenrir felt his weak body stand against his will, following her orders, all the while pinning her with a deathly look of anger. He snarled and tried to raise his arms and lash out again, but he found himself unable to do so. And it seemed that the woman, who stood before him, knew he was at her mercy.
She grinned largely, revealing pearly white teeth. The woman laughed heartily, the morbid choker around her neck tinkled as the small phalange bones knocked together. She buried her delicately shaped nose into the feathered collar of her black cloak, her grey eyes holding a devilish sparkle.
“Come, we’ll have you brought to the inner sanctum,” she tugged at the chain, his body lurched forward unable to control itself.
And all Fenrir could wonder was, how had he been dealt this horrible hand?
--
The halls of the inner sanctum would have been marvelous had the icy roots of Yggdrasil not burrowed through the marble, overgrowth and vines lining the crumbling walls, inching toward the towering ceilings. The large dais in the center of the chamber seated a large throne, at one point it would have glittered like gold, but was only tarnished and gloomy looking.
Fenrir trudged behind the woman, who yanked the chain often to make sure he was keeping up. The shambling skeleton had remained at the doors, facing out into the dark, that Fenrir knew would have been hard to navigate without the eerie light the skeleton’s lantern emitted. He snorted when the woman stopped short of the crumbled steps of the dais, turning around to face him, that nasty grin ever plastered there.
“Welcome to my palace Éljúdnir,” she raised her arms and spun in a circle, proud of the decay and deteriorated surroundings. She eyed him with narrowed eyes before she looked at the thin silver chain still clasped in her hand. She grinned and gave it slack as she walked up the steps, her heels clicking on the crumbled marble. The woman effortlessly tied the chain around one of the arms of the throne, before wiping her hands off and turned back toward him.
“Now, where were we?” she purred, unclasping her cloak, pulling it away from her shoulders and tossing it over the back of the throne. In doing so, it revealed a lithe, but supple figure clad in only a shimmer of a black gown, practically transparent. She pointed a claw tipped finger at him as she sat down on the seat of the throne.
“Ganglati tells me that you are Fenrir.”
Though it had been a statement, it sounded more of a question to him as he growled low at the mention of his name. The wolf barred his teeth and grabbed the chain, yanking on it, intending to pull it free from the knot and run back the way he’d been brought. It would be easy to steal that lantern from the skeleton and steal away into the dark. To his dismay the chain only tightened in slack and pulled him forward to the steps and down to his knees. Again, he heard that shrill, devilish laughter.
“This chain was crafted by the finest dwarves of Svartálfaheim,” she clicked her teeth, her laughter subsiding as she removed her half helm made from skull and ram horns. She lazily dropped it off to the side, the helm rolling away from the throne and down the steps. The woman flattened her long flowing white hair and crossed her legs.
“They call it Gleipnir,” she mused, chuckling to herself as she played with a lock of her hair, twisting it in her fingertips, running it along the flesh of her cheek. “Your pitiful attempts to break free are all for not.”
Again the chamber filled with her laughter.
“Oh, shut that fucking noise up!” Fenrir barked, narrowing his eyes as he rose to his knees.
She abruptly snapped her mouth shut, anger the only evident emotion that seemed to perfectly fit her. The woman stood in rage, before they were interrupted.
“My Mistress Hel,” the voice was husky and deep, with a hint of a growl as the man clad in leather armor stopped short of the dais, dropping to one knee and bowed, waiting for an order, “I received your summons.”
The name stunned Fenrir, who stared wide-eyed at the woman standing atop the dais. The ruling hand over Niflheim and its dead prisoners, the Queen of her inner sanctum of Helheim. Fenrir was too shocked to move. All he could do was stare and remember the last time he had seen her among his company, but that had been a eon ago, when they had only been children.
“Sister?” Fenrir mumbled, loud enough to catch the two’s attention.
The male tossed him an ugly look that was not masked nor chastised by Hel, who placed her hands on her hips, “I do not consider myself any family of ones who would banish me to solitude and an painful death,” she snarled, “So you best keep those words to yourself, impudent fool.”
Without paying Fenrir anymore mind, she turned to the newcomer, still bowed at the base of the dais, “Garm, you were to give this beast a pit to sleep in, but I’ve changed my mind,” she tapped a claw tipped finger to her cheek in thought and pointed at Fenrir, who was still unsure of what was going on anymore, “I’ll have you to see to it that he is humiliated for my entertainment.”
“Yes, my mistress,” Garm bowed lower and stood abruptly.
Garm sauntered over to Fenrir, whose hands had fallen from the silver chain. He flashed the chained wolf a fanged sneer as he grabbed Fenrir’s mussed braided hair, yanking him backwards, forcing him to his knees. “I do as my mistress commands,” Garm growled, tightening his hold on Fenrir’s hair.
“Don’t be so rough, my sweet,” Hel chuckled and sat back down in her throne, crossing her long legs, “We can’t have our living guest not welcomed properly, after all, Thor wouldn’t be so happy with us, now would he?”
Fenrir narrowed he eyes, growling at the mere mention of the god, “So what? You obey Thor now!?” He snarled, struggling as much as he could against Garm’s sturdy grip of his scalp.
Hel played with the bones of her choker, “Obey Thor? Don’t make me laugh.” Hel chuckled at something only she thought was funny, before dropping her hand back to the armrest of the seat, “Thor is just a toy of mine, just as you are now Fenrir. The only difference is that Thor doesn’t know it yet.”
Her laughter was bone chilling.
“Here,” she motioned for Garm, tossing him a bound rope of more silver chain, “bind him,” Garm nodded, using his free hand to pick up the bundle, before Hel shook her finger at him, “Ah ah, strip him first… remember humiliation for my entertainment…” she laughed and sat back, watching with eager eyes.
“Wha--?!” Fenrir stared dumbfounded at the woman, who he had mistakenly thought for one second was his sister.
“Don’t struggle too much, Garm is a little blood-thirsty,” Hel giggled, licking her lips as her grey eyes dilated with arousal.
Garm silently grabbed Fenrir’s loose tunic and ripped it, his claws tearing easily through the cloth, the nails only slightly catching at the tender flesh of Fenrir’s abdomen, causing a not so happy hiss of pain from the wolf, who still continued to struggle. Beads of crimson rolled down Fenrir’s chest as he slashed upward with one hand, trying to swat Garm away from him, his other hand trying to keep himself balanced so that the male didn’t scalp him barehanded. The male towering over him grabbed at the silver chain bundle at his feet and dropped Fenrir to the ground, leaving the wolf sputtering and trying to gather his bearings.
Fenrir came back up to slash at Garm, but the other was twice as quick and was behind him effortlessly, the silver chain easily wrapped around the wolf’s wrists. Garm pulled the chain and bound the wolf’s arms to his chest tightly as he knotted the chain off. Fenrir snarled in weakness, unable to get his arms free, or even an inch away from his torso for that matter.
Hel laughed giddily, “Remove his pants!”
“NO!” Fenrir snarled out in rage, his green eyes dark with anger and fear.
Garm paid no heed to Fenrir’s struggles and clawed the wolf’s loose trousers off, leaving the man naked as he pushed him to the crumbled marble floor. Hel’s laughter was sickening as she clapped her hands.
The hall filled with Fenrir’s enraged growls and Hel’s laughter.
“Ganglati! Ganglot!” She called for her servants, leaning forward in her throne, eagerly awaiting their arrival. Within several minutes, the twin maids appeared, bowing low as they kneeled at the foot of the dais.
“Mistress?” They chimed together, just as silent and obeying as Garm was, making Fenrir’s nervous struggles even more panic filled.
“Hold his legs!”
The servants bowed low, nodding their understanding as they made their way to Garm’s side, who shoved Fenrir back onto the ground, pressing his boot clad foot to the Fenrir’s stomach to hold him down to the floor. Though he was the mighty wolf, prophesied to kill Odin, even bound Fenrir could only helplessly struggle, not really putting up much of a fight for Garm. The twins kneeled at his feet, their cold hands wrapping around his ankles, stopping him from kicking altogether.
Fenrir screamed out in utter defeat, only making Hel’s laughter even louder.
“Mm, such a saucy live prisoner we have,” she purred, clapping her hands happily, “Garm, arouse him and tie the chain around his cock!” She laughed, tossing her head back, “Yes! That’s a perfect idea!”
Fenrir could almost cry, but then again he couldn’t even feel the prickle of tears just the searing disgust tearing through him as Garm’s similar cold fingers began to fondle him, working him to stiffness. The wolf laughed on the inside, maybe this was what the gods had in mind of getting him back for sleeping around with all the lovely goddesses in Asgard.
Garm stroked his shaft until his body stood erect against his palm, his length throbbing with the fierceness of blood pumping through his system, curling upward to lay against his lower belly. He could hear the repulsive whistle of Hel’s appreciation, it only made him hate his existence even more. Garm snorted and pulled his hand back, reaching for the chain.
“YES!” Hel laughed, leaning forward in her throne.
Garm took the silver chain and wrapped it around the base of Fenrir’s cock. The wolf hissed at the bitter coldness biting into the tender flesh of his hard shaft, his cock aching for the release he knew wasn’t going to happen, not like he wanted it to happen like this anyway.
“Good! Now what else is there I can do!” Hel’s shrill voice grew distant as Fenrir drifted into his thoughts, trying to block out the movements of the servants, the cold hands, Hel and that banshee laughter.
He’d have to endure all this because of a stupid prophecy?
Now he was going to be the slave of Niflheim’s bitch goddess til Ragnarok. At the mercy of her will and disturbing sense of family.
Fenrir hoped it wouldn’t take eternity before he was released from his chains. If it was the last thing he did, he’d make that weak cowardly Vidar pay for this.
Cross Posted to: kinky_prompts
Author: kryss_delrhei
Fandom: Norse Mythology
Type: Original
Characters/Pairing: Fenrir, Hel, Garm, Ganglati, Ganglot
Word Count: 2,952
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG
Warning: kink, slight abuse, bondage, orgasm denial, rape/non-con
Summary: Chained by Vidar and beaten by Thor, Fenrir is tossed into the depths of Niflheim, only to be tortured even more by the ruler of the realm. Weak with despair, all Fenrir can do, is let it happen.
Disclaimer: Fidelity, its storyline, and characters are property of laurelrhea and myself. Though the whole norse mythology thing... that's so not mine.
Author's Notes: I haven't written anything with Hel before, though she's been one of my roleplay character for a while, though not a huge character, just one for plot purposes. This piece so did not come out the way that I wanted it to, but I like where it ended up all the same.
Prompt: kinky_prompts : #019 - Collars ( Table DIY)
--
His vision was filled with a bleary haze that did not seem to leave his sight, no matter how many times he tried to blink it away. The ground was cold and damp against his cheek as he felt a shiver of uneasiness travel his spine. His stomach filled with a queasy sense of dread that heightened as he weakly pushed himself up onto his palms.
Fenrir coughed his body aching from the beatings he had received from the other Æsir that had brought him to this disgusting hell-hole. He growled, the husky rumble reverberating around the damp dirt walls that symbolized his isolation and prison. Tree roots twisted and mangled their way up the walls, and in doing so they almost seemed to breath. Though, knowing the way that Niflheim worked, they probably did.
The wolf leaned back on his heels, coughing on the cold air as he brushed his dirty palms off on his thighs. The silver chain attached to his throat twinkled in the hazy mist, leading toward a coil of roots and almost looked as if it went clear through the dirt wall. Fenrir grumbled more and tugged on the silver chain, remembering as that cowardly Vidar had sneaked it around his neck.
And he had thought the boy wanted a little something more, but that no longer mattered, not now anyway, as Vidar had had Thor beat him to a bloody pulp after the chain had slipped snuggly around his throat. The chain gave no budge as he tugged on it harder, giving up when the roots failed to let go of it. For such a flimsy chain, it was very durable. Must be enchanted, Fenrir thought with a grumble. He wondered when the two of them had disposed of him in the deep recesses of Niflheim. Fenrir scratched at his mass of brown hair, mussing some of the braids that was tangled with his dried blood.
He sat back on the ground, pulling his feet out from under him and stretched them out, chewing angrily on the inside of his cheek with his canine. He gave the silver chain another tug, before falling back on the ground, arms spread out as an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. Fenrir lay there, chewing on his the inside of his cheek, as he gave his isolation a thought, the haze of his vision slowly clearing.
It would seem he would be in Niflheim’s icy depths for some time, for what? So Odin could parade around his throne room in his birthday suit for a few more millennia, entertaining that stoic brother of his? Fenrir growled, the deep rumble filling the eerie silence. It wasn’t like he had planned on killing Odin, not that the thought hadn’t been there, but still. If he killed the little twerp then where would the rest of the Æsir be without their precious All-Father? Cause surely Vili nor Vé would take over that position again, after having pawned the title off to their youngest sibling, to get rid of the responsibility in the first place.
Fenrir’s mind prattled on, moving to trying to figure out a semi-plausible way of escaping his confines, when the room filled with a loud rumble that shook the ground. The wolf jumped to his feet, drawing the silver chain taunt, almost tightening it around his throat. The roots of the icy tree curled, moving away from the end of the chain, back into the dark corners of the small room. Fenrir eyed the spot where the chain went flush into the wall, no hole for it to pass through, nothing. The other end just disappeared.
The dirt wall began to crack, running the full length down the wall, splitting in the middle, the chain loosening as slack was given. Fenrir almost barked for joy, til the damp room filled with a bright light. The wolf shielded his eyes, his other hand furiously tugged the chain toward him, hoping to grasp the end of it before it was discovered.
His thoughts of freedom were short lived.
“Silly fool…” a dark voice chuckled in the air, almost louder than the rumbling of the wall splitting in half. A make-shift doorway opened up, the bright light emitting from a hanging lantern carried overhead by a skeleton shambling behind the female who had just entered the small room. The chain grew taunt as a sculpted foot clad in binding heels stomped on the silver chain dragging across the dirt.
“Where you trying to escape, for I hope not.”
Fenrir growled, tugging hard on he chain, lowering his other hand to pull, “What gives you that idea?” he barked, barring his fangs, in a futile attempt.
“There is no end to it, if you must know,” her voice was sultry as it was menacing, “So I wouldn’t waste all that energy, on a meaningless task.”
The wolf snarled and bared his claws, swiping at the woman who stood nearly at his height of six and a half feet. He usually wasn’t as dangerous as he looked, nor how the other Æsir made him out to seem - on most occasions - but the rage had been pent up for too long it seemed, forcing him to lash out. Though none of his blows connected, and his body was worn and aching from the beating Thor had laid into him earlier. He stumbled on his footing and fell to his knees.
“Submissive already? That isn’t any fun, now is it?” She almost sounded like she was pouting, her voice taking a childish tone, before she chuckled, lowering her eyelashes, she stared down the line of her nose at him, “And here I was, hoping you would be a little more ferocious,” she licked her full lips, colored a crimson red. She snapped her fingers, the silver chain appearing in the palm of her right hand, the silver bands wrapped around her fingers, shimmered in the bright light.
“Are you ready, my pet?” She purred, yanking on the chain harshly before she narrowed her eyes, “Get on your feet!”
Unable to control his own actions, Fenrir felt his weak body stand against his will, following her orders, all the while pinning her with a deathly look of anger. He snarled and tried to raise his arms and lash out again, but he found himself unable to do so. And it seemed that the woman, who stood before him, knew he was at her mercy.
She grinned largely, revealing pearly white teeth. The woman laughed heartily, the morbid choker around her neck tinkled as the small phalange bones knocked together. She buried her delicately shaped nose into the feathered collar of her black cloak, her grey eyes holding a devilish sparkle.
“Come, we’ll have you brought to the inner sanctum,” she tugged at the chain, his body lurched forward unable to control itself.
And all Fenrir could wonder was, how had he been dealt this horrible hand?
--
The halls of the inner sanctum would have been marvelous had the icy roots of Yggdrasil not burrowed through the marble, overgrowth and vines lining the crumbling walls, inching toward the towering ceilings. The large dais in the center of the chamber seated a large throne, at one point it would have glittered like gold, but was only tarnished and gloomy looking.
Fenrir trudged behind the woman, who yanked the chain often to make sure he was keeping up. The shambling skeleton had remained at the doors, facing out into the dark, that Fenrir knew would have been hard to navigate without the eerie light the skeleton’s lantern emitted. He snorted when the woman stopped short of the crumbled steps of the dais, turning around to face him, that nasty grin ever plastered there.
“Welcome to my palace Éljúdnir,” she raised her arms and spun in a circle, proud of the decay and deteriorated surroundings. She eyed him with narrowed eyes before she looked at the thin silver chain still clasped in her hand. She grinned and gave it slack as she walked up the steps, her heels clicking on the crumbled marble. The woman effortlessly tied the chain around one of the arms of the throne, before wiping her hands off and turned back toward him.
“Now, where were we?” she purred, unclasping her cloak, pulling it away from her shoulders and tossing it over the back of the throne. In doing so, it revealed a lithe, but supple figure clad in only a shimmer of a black gown, practically transparent. She pointed a claw tipped finger at him as she sat down on the seat of the throne.
“Ganglati tells me that you are Fenrir.”
Though it had been a statement, it sounded more of a question to him as he growled low at the mention of his name. The wolf barred his teeth and grabbed the chain, yanking on it, intending to pull it free from the knot and run back the way he’d been brought. It would be easy to steal that lantern from the skeleton and steal away into the dark. To his dismay the chain only tightened in slack and pulled him forward to the steps and down to his knees. Again, he heard that shrill, devilish laughter.
“This chain was crafted by the finest dwarves of Svartálfaheim,” she clicked her teeth, her laughter subsiding as she removed her half helm made from skull and ram horns. She lazily dropped it off to the side, the helm rolling away from the throne and down the steps. The woman flattened her long flowing white hair and crossed her legs.
“They call it Gleipnir,” she mused, chuckling to herself as she played with a lock of her hair, twisting it in her fingertips, running it along the flesh of her cheek. “Your pitiful attempts to break free are all for not.”
Again the chamber filled with her laughter.
“Oh, shut that fucking noise up!” Fenrir barked, narrowing his eyes as he rose to his knees.
She abruptly snapped her mouth shut, anger the only evident emotion that seemed to perfectly fit her. The woman stood in rage, before they were interrupted.
“My Mistress Hel,” the voice was husky and deep, with a hint of a growl as the man clad in leather armor stopped short of the dais, dropping to one knee and bowed, waiting for an order, “I received your summons.”
The name stunned Fenrir, who stared wide-eyed at the woman standing atop the dais. The ruling hand over Niflheim and its dead prisoners, the Queen of her inner sanctum of Helheim. Fenrir was too shocked to move. All he could do was stare and remember the last time he had seen her among his company, but that had been a eon ago, when they had only been children.
“Sister?” Fenrir mumbled, loud enough to catch the two’s attention.
The male tossed him an ugly look that was not masked nor chastised by Hel, who placed her hands on her hips, “I do not consider myself any family of ones who would banish me to solitude and an painful death,” she snarled, “So you best keep those words to yourself, impudent fool.”
Without paying Fenrir anymore mind, she turned to the newcomer, still bowed at the base of the dais, “Garm, you were to give this beast a pit to sleep in, but I’ve changed my mind,” she tapped a claw tipped finger to her cheek in thought and pointed at Fenrir, who was still unsure of what was going on anymore, “I’ll have you to see to it that he is humiliated for my entertainment.”
“Yes, my mistress,” Garm bowed lower and stood abruptly.
Garm sauntered over to Fenrir, whose hands had fallen from the silver chain. He flashed the chained wolf a fanged sneer as he grabbed Fenrir’s mussed braided hair, yanking him backwards, forcing him to his knees. “I do as my mistress commands,” Garm growled, tightening his hold on Fenrir’s hair.
“Don’t be so rough, my sweet,” Hel chuckled and sat back down in her throne, crossing her long legs, “We can’t have our living guest not welcomed properly, after all, Thor wouldn’t be so happy with us, now would he?”
Fenrir narrowed he eyes, growling at the mere mention of the god, “So what? You obey Thor now!?” He snarled, struggling as much as he could against Garm’s sturdy grip of his scalp.
Hel played with the bones of her choker, “Obey Thor? Don’t make me laugh.” Hel chuckled at something only she thought was funny, before dropping her hand back to the armrest of the seat, “Thor is just a toy of mine, just as you are now Fenrir. The only difference is that Thor doesn’t know it yet.”
Her laughter was bone chilling.
“Here,” she motioned for Garm, tossing him a bound rope of more silver chain, “bind him,” Garm nodded, using his free hand to pick up the bundle, before Hel shook her finger at him, “Ah ah, strip him first… remember humiliation for my entertainment…” she laughed and sat back, watching with eager eyes.
“Wha--?!” Fenrir stared dumbfounded at the woman, who he had mistakenly thought for one second was his sister.
“Don’t struggle too much, Garm is a little blood-thirsty,” Hel giggled, licking her lips as her grey eyes dilated with arousal.
Garm silently grabbed Fenrir’s loose tunic and ripped it, his claws tearing easily through the cloth, the nails only slightly catching at the tender flesh of Fenrir’s abdomen, causing a not so happy hiss of pain from the wolf, who still continued to struggle. Beads of crimson rolled down Fenrir’s chest as he slashed upward with one hand, trying to swat Garm away from him, his other hand trying to keep himself balanced so that the male didn’t scalp him barehanded. The male towering over him grabbed at the silver chain bundle at his feet and dropped Fenrir to the ground, leaving the wolf sputtering and trying to gather his bearings.
Fenrir came back up to slash at Garm, but the other was twice as quick and was behind him effortlessly, the silver chain easily wrapped around the wolf’s wrists. Garm pulled the chain and bound the wolf’s arms to his chest tightly as he knotted the chain off. Fenrir snarled in weakness, unable to get his arms free, or even an inch away from his torso for that matter.
Hel laughed giddily, “Remove his pants!”
“NO!” Fenrir snarled out in rage, his green eyes dark with anger and fear.
Garm paid no heed to Fenrir’s struggles and clawed the wolf’s loose trousers off, leaving the man naked as he pushed him to the crumbled marble floor. Hel’s laughter was sickening as she clapped her hands.
The hall filled with Fenrir’s enraged growls and Hel’s laughter.
“Ganglati! Ganglot!” She called for her servants, leaning forward in her throne, eagerly awaiting their arrival. Within several minutes, the twin maids appeared, bowing low as they kneeled at the foot of the dais.
“Mistress?” They chimed together, just as silent and obeying as Garm was, making Fenrir’s nervous struggles even more panic filled.
“Hold his legs!”
The servants bowed low, nodding their understanding as they made their way to Garm’s side, who shoved Fenrir back onto the ground, pressing his boot clad foot to the Fenrir’s stomach to hold him down to the floor. Though he was the mighty wolf, prophesied to kill Odin, even bound Fenrir could only helplessly struggle, not really putting up much of a fight for Garm. The twins kneeled at his feet, their cold hands wrapping around his ankles, stopping him from kicking altogether.
Fenrir screamed out in utter defeat, only making Hel’s laughter even louder.
“Mm, such a saucy live prisoner we have,” she purred, clapping her hands happily, “Garm, arouse him and tie the chain around his cock!” She laughed, tossing her head back, “Yes! That’s a perfect idea!”
Fenrir could almost cry, but then again he couldn’t even feel the prickle of tears just the searing disgust tearing through him as Garm’s similar cold fingers began to fondle him, working him to stiffness. The wolf laughed on the inside, maybe this was what the gods had in mind of getting him back for sleeping around with all the lovely goddesses in Asgard.
Garm stroked his shaft until his body stood erect against his palm, his length throbbing with the fierceness of blood pumping through his system, curling upward to lay against his lower belly. He could hear the repulsive whistle of Hel’s appreciation, it only made him hate his existence even more. Garm snorted and pulled his hand back, reaching for the chain.
“YES!” Hel laughed, leaning forward in her throne.
Garm took the silver chain and wrapped it around the base of Fenrir’s cock. The wolf hissed at the bitter coldness biting into the tender flesh of his hard shaft, his cock aching for the release he knew wasn’t going to happen, not like he wanted it to happen like this anyway.
“Good! Now what else is there I can do!” Hel’s shrill voice grew distant as Fenrir drifted into his thoughts, trying to block out the movements of the servants, the cold hands, Hel and that banshee laughter.
He’d have to endure all this because of a stupid prophecy?
Now he was going to be the slave of Niflheim’s bitch goddess til Ragnarok. At the mercy of her will and disturbing sense of family.
Fenrir hoped it wouldn’t take eternity before he was released from his chains. If it was the last thing he did, he’d make that weak cowardly Vidar pay for this.
Cross Posted to: kinky_prompts