The Once and Future Goblin King - Complete

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Never Enough

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Whatever anger I experienced before finding him becomes pastel compared to the rage coursing through me after Jareth destroyed my scrying crystal; I stood amidst the charred fragments, my smallest muscles vibrating. The amount of energy required to conjure the large crystal anew; I growl, days of virtual time sapped from me while he escapes, slithers from my sight. And the most important question yet: How did he retain his powers in the Aboveground?

I need to expend this energy; it is useless for spell-casting, worse than useless, it's dangerous, distracting. Conjuring necessitated extreme attentiveness and deliberation; uncontrolled emotion causes unanticipated results. Pushing a few shards with the toe of my boot, I shove them arbitrarily about; a spark of fear settling in my gut at how effortlessly he repelled my tracking. I knew he was powerful, possibly more powerful then I first realized. My plans...I would have to alter them.

"Sir Didymus, I'm going below," I say, looking over at my knight, forgetting his demise. I had already vanished his remains. "Right...I'll get back to you."

Twisting my hands quickly, I materialize another vanishing crystal, and toss it at the mess in my throne room. Much better, I detest disorder in my castle; preferring its upkeep, the lack of poultry and goblins helped. My version of prison involves medieval tapestries, Gothic carvings, and lots and lots of tall, floor candles. I like the romantic atmosphere, and once created they supply a low magic energy source of light— better smell too.

Leaving the throne room behind, I rapidly walk down the spiraling path to the same dungeons I departed earlier today, or was it yesterday? How long did I scry this time? I don't bother to track anymore. My skin itching as I drew closer to my destination, anticipation caused my hands to shake. I want him under my power, badly! Particularly after his arrogant display.

As soon as I enter a dungeon cell, I conjure a specific crystal and lob it at a wall, my arm stretching out fully with my body as if I pitching a fast ball; the crystal explodes and my special pet appears as ordered. Beautiful, perfect, lovely...the naked, white flesh of his back and buttocks contrast with the sinister, dark stones of the wall to which he stood shackled, spread eagle. So bright, his skin near glowed in the gloom of his cell, his starlight hair shimmering even as the dankness surrounding him drank from his radiance.

"Jareth, have you behaved while I was away?" I croon, so excited!

"Yes, Mistress," he answers, the wall muffling his obedient baritone.

"LIAR!" I shout, his shoulders flinch and hunch as his head bows silently closer to the wall.

"I've been watching you! I know you've been bad!" A whip materializes in my right hand; I blink. I didn't call for this; my control is slipping already, but the magic knew my desires. Yes...it always knows what I want, and this would feel so good!

"I hate you!" My right arm swings out, pivoting from my elbow, my legs bent and splayed to brace my center of gravity. I flick my wrist sharply, transferring the energy from my hand down the sinuous leather, cracking the metal tip against Jareth's back. I learn fast how to weld a whip; turns out I'm a natural.

Bodily he jolts, limbs yanking at the taut shackles, the iron digs into his flesh; he throws his head back and screams. I'd never punished him like this before. The action on my muscles burns so well, so real; it makes me feel alive! The acute sight of red blooming, marring his faultless skin brought forth something deep within me, made it hum with pleasure. God help me... I'm sure my eyes must be glowing as I nearly orgasm with every fall of my arm.

"I hate you so much!" I snap the whip again, criss-cross the first few lines; a fourth bloody trail and his scream, again, again, again, again!

I lose myself in the crimson rhythm for a long time until...breaths heavy from the exertion, my body aching, yet still abuzz with dissatisfaction. It wasn't enough. I could torture and maim and kill this copy a million times, a million times a million and still it would never be enough.

When I eventually cease whipping my pseudo-Jareth, only a man-shaped, mushy tatter of red hangs from the wall. His low whimpers hardly reach my ears, his vocal cords screamed ragged. Irritated at him for living, I throw the entire whip at him, the hard handle strikes the center of his back; he doesn't move. I doubt any magic remains for him to flinch, slumped as he was from the chains.

"Don't ever lie to me again." Disdain fills my voice, he doesn't answer. I leave him hanging in his cell this time to think about his crimes against me. Eventually I'll release him, or lose concentration causing his construct to fade.

Discontent continues to burn in me; I feel restless, twitchy. I need so much more than violence to subdue this raging insanity expanding within my soul. Hoggle's words drift back to me; I shove them away. I crave...him.

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Walking directly from the dungeons, I go to my personal chambers; none cross my path, likely they sense my mood. I am the only mood important here. A few conjured retainers, other than Hoggle and Didymus, live in the castle. My experiments of originally: mish-mashes from my previous life and my imagination, though I've never copied my family, that just seems...wrong. Some worked out, some did not. Presently silence reigns in the halls of my fortress, candlelight flickers at regular intervals; the flames jump and dance at my swift passage. My conjurings are very real; they tempt me to forget myself.

I enter my chambers, once the Goblin King's; and one sweeping wave of my arm lit the room in fresh candles exposing a typical large, extravagant bed dominating the otherwise rustic atmosphere. The scent of vanilla fills the air. A fireplace taller than me fills one wall while random pieces of hand carved, wood furniture sat scattered throughout; these are all real, a part of the castle before my residence. Or perhaps he made them, I don't know really.

Snapping my fingers woke my two personal servants who emerge from the shadowy corners; they await my every command. These two blandly dressed and appearing, Jareth look-a-likes are the only beings permitted in my quarters daily without my presence; they never speak as they comprehend my wishes without answering. Made with minimal intelligence, they are eunuchs, harmless to me in every possible way. I suppose one might say I'm a bit obsessed.

"Attend me." Holding my arms outstretched, they swiftly undress and remove my clothing, bathing me with a warm, moist cloth as they bare my skin; I'll indulge in a full bath later, afterwards, once my I quench my need. I rarely pander to this part of myself, believing it made me weak; but today...today was a very bad day and I hunger for more satiation.

Once nude, I conjure another crystal and drop it a few feet away; a small puff of smoky glitter and he appears—my version of Jareth I secretly yearn, hate to admit wanting. I resist his temptation until my stress levels demand this release, sometimes years pass before I cave.

"My queen," he says; his voice sultry and slow; he lives by no timeline other than my needs, what need have he to rush?

"Jareth." My throat constricts at the sight of his flawlessness; my breathing increases and the heat long smoldering bursts in my gut as my eyes travel down the length of his molded physique. I made this doppelganger to every physical specification I ever dreamt, my embodiment of male superiority and domination.

"You have need of me?" He asks, his face impassive, but I wasn't interested in his expressions. Thinking of that, my eyes lowered, lingering on his groin; already I feel my body redirecting my energy to more worthwhile pursuits as throbbing started between my legs and my nipples harden to extreme sensitivity. I had created him for one intention; and his dual, equally large phalluses, mounted one atop the other like unicorn horns were made to fit my body exquisitely.

"Yes, you know what to do."

He bows his head, his silken hair curtaining his face, "Yes, my queen." This Jareth is the only being permitted to address me as such...

In a flash he grabs and twists me around, bringing my back flush to his chest; his dual erections announcing themselves between my thighs and buttocks. Somewhere he produces a blindfold and leather strap which he uses to quickly secure me; with my vision gone and my wrists secured above my head, I feel wonderfully helpless. I let my arms bend at the elbows and fall back behind his head until my back arches away from him.

His harsh breathing sounds in my left ear as he grinds his hips to mind. I feel his rough hands explore my front, caressing, pinching and delving into me, spreading my moisture to himself in preparation; I am entirely bare to him. The naked skin of his chest warms my back, the hard planes of his torso contrast with my softer edges. I shiver.

"Do you like that, my queen?"

"Yes!" I hiss and grab the back of his head with my bound hands as he spreads my thighs wide, lifts me off my feet, and leans back, both my openings teased by the tips of his erections. His strength once again surpasses my expectations! I forgot how strong and agile I made him. If I thought he possessed any power to leave my chambers I might fear him.

Blind to my surroundings, dizziness engulfs me as my Jareth holds me upwards, splayed over his torso, and torturously impales me upon him using my own weight. I'm so wet half of me offers no resistance. I scream in pain and ecstasy as he simultaneously fills my emptiness, his size shoves passed my limits; it causes my brain to misfire and stutter and he has yet to thrust deeper.

Limp, my arms and legs dangle around him. How he stands, leans backwards with me like this I don't know or care, just that he continue because now his arms wrap around me, hold me, search out my sensitive spots and I feel like I'm floating. All my cares dissipate in my dark world of physical sensation swirling around Jareth's rocking, pulsing inside of me. God...why do I deny myself this?

"Harder."

"Yes, my queen." Somehow, without leverage, his hips slam faster, pounding farther into my body; tingles blossom with the sharpness.

"Oh God...harder!" I yell. He complies until I feel my body practically bounce off of his with every rebound and full slid back down.

"YES...YES!" The pain mixes with pleasure...so close then his fingers brush my clit and I explode, electricity zapping every nerve. I grab his hips with my legs from behind and tighten myself so hard around his torso that I feel his lengths hit far inside me, painfully, and I scream again, this time purely in pain as he begins his double climax.

He stumbles forward, shoves my face into the bed and finishes pounding uncontrollably into my battered body; like a feral beast I hear him growl as his climaxes pulse, tearing my delicate tissues. All I can feel now is pain, a dual, internal stabbing as my Jareth damages something I suspect is rather important inside of me. I want to care, but I don't.

He grunts in my ear on his last thrust, a straining, pushing effort that buries my face further into the duvet, nearly smothering me. I can't see him behind me; I'm still wearing the blindfold, but I feel his hands on my hips as he withdraws from my orifices. A hot rush of fluid follows him, gushes from my body and I slump fully to my bed, groaning in pain and weakness. The sticky fluid keeps flowing from me and I remember why I rarely call this Jareth. My arms, tied above my head awkwardly, are numb like weights, but I can't muster the will to move.

"My queen, do you need me?" He asks, blandly. Not very bright this version.

"Go away," I croak, disgusted with myself.

"Yes, my queen." I sense his departure as I sense my blood still pouring rapidly from my shredded innards. My consciousness fades quickly and I feel suddenly weary; perhaps I'll nap for a bit.

Is this what it's like to die?

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I awake in my bed, in the castle beyond the mists; I am alive and youthful as the day the Goblin King first tricked me. My conjurings are faded and my body healed, once again. I lie in my bed as if I fell asleep alone, unbound, clean. Tears slip from my eyes; I roll over and sob my anguish into the velvet duvet.

Have I mentioned I cannot die? I've tried to kill myself many times, once my sanity tread too close to the boundary, but even that escape is lost to me. I wonder, was it lost to him as well?

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A/N: Even with the dark smut of this fic I really wanted to write this as a deeper ethically quandary for Sarah, which will become more apparent later on. It was important to set up her frame of mind now to contrast with the later story. She's not so much evil as misguided, twisted and immature, stunted.

Question: Can someone be redeemed from that existence? Will they want to be? How? She hates herself as much as she hates Jareth. I love, love, love philosophical debates so any questions/comments on ethics PLEASE voice them! Love it! This was a majorly badass chap to write. Not very realistic on the sexy times but...hey...it's my goblin king fantasy #29 so there! Suspend belief and enjoy. And it was actually important to revealing her character. She's deeply conflicted about Jareth. Frankly, I'm not entirely sure what she'll do when she catches him.