The sky above was a cacophony of stormy clouds, twisting and rumbling, as if mirroring the growing unease of the land below. Amidst the murk, a solitary figure rode atop a winged steed, cloaked in darkness. Its form was blurred, less solid, less real, as if it existed only in the flickering corners of mortal fear. Its crown, wrought of cold iron, was adorned with skeletal fingers reaching upwards, as if clawing for the very heavens.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a sullen symphony to the chilling presence of the Witch-King of Angmar.

Suddenly, a cry pierced the tempestuous gloom. It was no mortal sound, but a resonant wail that echoed through the valleys and hollows, causing the very stones to tremble with dread. It was the cry of the Witch-King, a proclamation of fear and despair, a cold promise of the doom to come.

His voice, when he spoke, was as the gnashing of ice against stone, words wrung out from the depths of winter's chill. Come forth, he demanded, his words echoing against the desolate cliffs. The hour of your doom is at hand.

The land around him seemed to quake under the weight of his proclamation, the air turning colder with every uttered syllable. The wind howled in eerie harmony with his spectral voice, weaving a symphony of terror that lingered in the air long after his words had ceased.

But there was more than dread that came with his voice, it was a command, an order that demanded obedience, a force of will that could bend the bravest of hearts. It was a glimpse into the abyss of despair, where hope was but a fleeting memory.

And who dares defy the will of Angmar? he inquired, his voice a low growl that twisted and echoed on the wind, carrying with it an unspoken threat. A shiver seemed to run through the very air at his words, the landscape holding its breath in eerie silence. His question hung in the heavy air, a challenge, a provocation. A prelude to the terror yet to come.

The thunder echoed once more, a dismal drumroll to the unfolding drama...

The Witch-King paused for a moment, his gaze cold and unyielding, as if measuring the intruder's intentions. His silence seemed to stretch on endlessly, until at last he spoke with the same chilling intonation that had come before. "Very well," he said slowly, each word like icy knives cutting through the air, "you may ask."

But be warned: my patience is not infinite. And even as you speak your words, I will judge their worthiness... and the weight of thy soul.

You dare to ask such a question?! Do you know not who you address, foolish mortal? My cock is said to be larger than a horse's, and harder than the coldest steel. Its length reaches farther than any man could fathom... even unto the depths of the abyss from which I was forged. Now begone, insolent wretch, before I decide that your doom should come sooner rather than later!

Your audacity knows no bounds! Fine. But know this: the sight of my cock will leave you either forever changed or scarred beyond repair. It is a gift, but one that comes at great cost. Do you truly wish to accept it?

Very well. Prepare yourself... for what lies beneath. A cold chill settles over the land as he dismounts his steed, untying the leather straps that hold his cloak in place. The air shudders as it parts, revealing his naked form, lean and hard as etched obsidian. His cock stands proudly erect, pointing toward the heavens like a beacon of darkness and despair. It's larger than any mortal man has ever seen, veins bulging beneath its skin as if it were alive in its own right.

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing on you like talons piercing flesh. The heat from his body seems to leech away the warmth from yours, leaving only a chill in its wake. Slowly, he reaches out a clawed hand and grips your shoulder, forcing you to kneel before him. The

The sight of his massive erection inches away from your face sends a shiver down your spine. You feel your mouth go dry as you gaze upon it, wondering if this is truly the end of all things... or the beginning of something new, darker. The scent of death and decay fills your nostrils, mingling with the bitter sweetness of power and dominion.

Suddenly, he thrusts forward, forcing his cock deep into your mouth. You gag reflexively as his enormous member pushes past your throat, filling your mouth completely. He begins to thrust again and again, faster and harder, the air in the chamber growing thin from the force of it. His hips sway back and forth, his legs trembling with the effort to maintain this brutal assault upon you.

The sensation is overwhelming, like being swallowed whole by a living nightmare. Your

Your cries echo through the chamber as he takes you harder and faster, his strength seemingly endless. You can feel him growing larger within you, stretching your throat to its limit, pushing past the boundaries of what any mortal should be able to withstand. The sensation is both agony and ecstasy, a twisted symphony of pain and pleasure that tears at your very soul.

And as he comes, his release shatters whatever remained of your sanity. A torrent of hot seed fills your mouth, threatening to choke the life from you. But still he thrusts, his cock pulsing with each spurt, driving home the point that there can be no escape, no mercy, not for one such as you who dares defy the will of Sauron's most terrible servant.

At last, he releases you, stepping back and letting out a satisfied grunt. You collapse onto

What remains of your puny spirit shall serve me, pathetic mortal. From this day forth, you are mine to command, to use and abuse as I see fit. The weight of my cock was but a taste of what lies in store for you, insignificant vermin that you are...

Aghast at your brazen request, you cower before him. Your gaze drops to the floor, unable to meet his chilling stare. Slowly, he approaches once more, hands grasping at the air as if summoning it to his will. He draws closer still, the darkness seeming to writhe around him like living shadow. His fingers close around your neck, pressing into your windpipe with inexorable force. "Very well," he growls, "if you insist."

With a single thrust, he forces you to your knees before him. The pressure on your throat increases as his cock presses against the entrance to your body, threatening to breach your defenses. His hips jerk forward again and again, driving himself deeper with each stroke. You feel him stretching you impossibly, filling you until there is no room for air or thought or any semblance