A Rope to Hang Himself by Kathryn Ramage

Sam paid a brief visit to his brother and uncle to tell them what he could, which was little except that the end of the case was approaching. He was invited to stay for dinner, but refused and, for once, did not regard his uncle's grumbling about his preference for Frodo. He knew where he belonged, and wouldn't apologize for it. At dusk, he returned to the inn to join Frodo in the private dining-room; Mr. Bloomer was delighted to see his famous guest out of his room and enjoying a good meal.

After dinner, Sam didn't go into the taproom. He had no desire to spend time in the company of the local lads tonight. Three days of separation had given him time to long for Frodo, feel regret for his behavior before their parting, and reconsider his reluctance. Frodo had taken him to places in the world he would never have otherwise seen if he'd stayed in the quiet heart of the Shire--to sights more wondrous and terrifying than anything in his dreams or worst nightmares. And since they'd come home, Frodo had kept him from falling back into an ordinary hobbit's life; their work as investigators was exciting and interesting, and the position he'd been appointed to as Chief Shirriff was one he'd never imagined he'd hold. And by loving him... in that way too, Frodo had shown him a life he'd never dared dream for himself. He'd begun to understand what Frodo had meant by calling their games an adventure. He was still afraid to explore that same wild spirit in himself, but he'd braved more terrifying things for Frodo's sake. Surely he could do this?

"All right," he announced as soon as they were alone. "I'll do it."

Frodo stared at him in surprise. "Sam, are you sure?"

"I don't understand why you fancy such things, but if it's what you want..." He struggled for a moment, then burst out with the question that had tormented him since Frodo had first made this odd proposal, "How can you want me to hurt you?"

Frodo's astonishment increased to the point that his mouth dropped open and he goggled at Sam for a moment before he laughed. "Is that what you're so afraid of? Sam, oh dear Sam--that isn't it at all. I don't want to be hurt."

"You don't?"

"No, of course not! I've had enough of pain. That's not what I'm after."

"What is it then?"

Frodo gave the matter some thought. "I suppose it's the feeling of being restrained, and then released," he said. "It's difficult to describe, but it's a wonderful sensation. You know how I like it when you grab me by the wrist or ankle?" Sam nodded. "Well, this is just the same, only it leaves your hands free... for other purposes. This is meant to be fun, Sam! A game, like our other games. You won't hurt me if it's only play."

"But what if I do?" asked Sam, still fearing things might go too far.

"You couldn't," Frodo answered him, smiling gently. "That's why I trust you so completely to do this with me. Don't I know very well that you would never harm me, whatever the circumstances? Even if I begged you to." He regarded to Sam with an eager expression. "Why don't I show you what I want? Then, once you see there's no harm in it, you won't be so skittish about doing the same to me. May I show you?" They stood face to face at the side of the bed. Frodo took Sam's wrists, holding them a little apart in a gentle but firm grip; Sam tested it and found that he could break free if he put up a fight. The question was: Did he want to? That was what Frodo was asking him.

They stood still for a minute, staring into each other's eyes. Frodo continued to hold his wrists, until Sam relaxed and said, in a hushed breath, "Show me." Frodo released him and turned to open the wardrobe.

"We'll need something, nothing so rough as rope. Softer. We- ah- I once used the cord from a dressing gown... Ah- here we are!" He fetched his from its hook on the inside of the wardrobe door and removed the cord that fastened around the waist. Kneeling on the foot of the bed, he tied the ends of the cord into two loops and held out these out toward Sam. When Sam offered his hands, Frodo slipped one loop over each bunched fist and led Sam by the cord between to the head of the bed. "Lie down," he commanded then, once Sam was reclining, reached up over his head to fasten the middle section of the cord around a large knob at the top and center of the bed's half-circle headboard. He had to climb over Sam to manage it. "That's not too tight, is it?" he asked, perched on Sam's rapidly rising and falling chest.

Sam tested his bonds. "It's all right." His hands were raised, suspended on either side of head. The knots were tied loosely; he could slip free if he had to. He knew that he wasn't going to, but all the same, he was a little frightened. He recalled the excitement and terror he'd felt with his fingers tangled helplessly in lace petticoats while Frodo rode atop him. He thought of their hands twined together with a bit of pink ribbon. "What if I don't like this?"

"Then say so," Frodo answered coolly. "Say, 'Stop." Say 'please,' so I know that you truly mean it."

"We'd better stop. I'm not undressed--neither're you."

"It doesn't matter." Frodo pushed the braces down off each of Sam's shoulder so that they hung on his upraised arms, and began to undo his shirt buttons. His hands stole inside, lightly stroking, teasing with flickers of fingertips, trailing down to the waistband of Sam's trousers. He nuzzled Sam's chest lightly through the opening, then went a little lower. Sam watched the top of his head and waited breathlessly for what Frodo would do next...

Frodo lifted his head to reveal an impish smile. "Wait here." He kissed the tip of Sam's nose, then got up from the bed and went to the wash-basin.

"What're you going to do?"

"Wash your feet. I'd like to nibble on your toes, but you've been walking about in the dirt all day, not to mention the inn stableyard." Frodo made a face. "I don't think I'd care for the taste of that." He filled the basin from the pitcher and warmed the water briefly over the fire.

Sam had no choice but to wait until Frodo returned, sat down at his feet and placed a towel across his own lap, then placed Sam's feet atop it. Washing was ticklish work, especially when Frodo used the nail-brush; Sam squirmed at these ministrations. The sensation of his feet being scrubbed vigorously with warm, soapy water by someone else was strangely pleasing. How very odd that someone so ordinary and everyday as washing up could be made sexy! But Frodo had a talent for that. He'd made Sam look at lacy underclothes and ribbons as he never had before. Now it was to be dressing-gown cords.

The washing was finished, and Frodo was drying his feet now. But the game wasn't over yet. Frodo set the basin aside and, giving one big toe a last vigorous polish with a corner of the towel, he bent his head to take it whole into his mouth. Sam couldn't help yelping out loud.

"Careful!" said Frodo, briefly lifting his head. "Don't wriggle so! You'll spill water all over the bed, and where will we sleep? Do you want me to stop?"

"Don't you dare! But better put that basin on the floor before you go on."

Frodo did so, then went on with the even more ticklish work of licking and sucking, paying the same attention to each toe in turn. Sam writhed at the delicious torture, almost at the edge of something more remarkable and possibly more embarrassing if he let it go so far. In the end, he surrendered to the exquisite sensations. There was no moment of messy embarrassment, but by the time Frodo had done with the tenth toe, he was limp and panting.

"That's wasn't so awful, was it, Sam?" asked Frodo.

"No."

"Shall I let you go?"

"Please."

Frodo crept up to release the cord from the bedknob above Sam's head. It dropped behind Sam's shoulders. His wrists were still bound, but Sam could bring them down now; freed, he did what he'd wanted to do all the time Frodo was teasing him: he grabbed Frodo by the waist and tumbled him down onto the bed.

"Your turn now," Frodo said, laughing between kisses.

"That's what you want me to do with you?" Sam asked.

"Something like it, yes. Do whatever you like. Nibble on whatever takes your fancy. Surprise me. Use your imagination, dearest Sam. You know you do have one."
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