Half the Distance

Title: Half the Distance
Series: Innocence Stripped Away
Chapter: Eleven : Sound Of A Trembling Heart
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: soultornasunder@gmail.com
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Beta: Alex Cat

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Imladris, Spring, Third Age 2086

He'd waited for many years for this opportunity. Thranduil had thought that opportunity had presented itself in Mirkwood, when Glorfindel was sent for negotiations. However, his best laid plans had been dashed when Erestor was waiting for them when they returned from Dale. The humiliation of that night still burned in Thranduil's breast.

Thranduil waited just inside the bedroom of his suite, a small smile on his face. Glorfindel had been instructed to enter and undress, and then enter the play space. He lamented the lack of a proper playroom, but for an initial session with Glorfindel, the bedroom would be adequate.

The sound of the door opening in the outer room heralded Glorfindel's arrival. Thranduil continued to wait while the Elda undressed and then stepped into the bedroom. Glorfindel was a beauty in chiselled alabaster and spun gold, and Thranduil spent several seconds just staring at the Elf before him.

"Come here," Thranduil ordered, and Glorfindel obediently came to stand in front of him. He walked around Glorfindel, pausing behind him to admire Erestor's name expertly inked along his back. "You are quite the possession," Thranduil observed.

"Yes, Sir," Glorfindel replied.

Thranduil messily pinned Glorfindel's hair up, then stood again in front of him. "The rules are very simple," he said, producing a thin, unadorned metal collar. "You will do as you are told, and the session ends should you say 'salab'." He fastened the collar around Glorfindel's neck. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Glorfindel immediately replied, his eyes downcast and his tone bland.

Thranduil stepped back to look at Glorfindel, and it dawned on him that something was not quite right. Glorfindel's posture was all wrong. Usually, Thranduil was several centimetres shorter than Glorfindel, but now the Mirkwood King found himself looking down on the other Elf. He shook his head, shoving aside the disquiet growing in his mind.

He reached over to a small chest on a nearby table and withdrew two large, round weights. Thranduil attached them to the rings piercing Glorfindel's nipples, which he then flicked to cause them to swing freely. He watched Glorfindel, but not a single reaction crossed the beautiful face. Another frown found its way to Thranduil's face. He returned to chest and removed a circular ring with two weights similar to the ones hanging from Glorfindel's chest.

"I think," Thranduil said conversationally, "that weights are heavily underused in the play we indulge in." He clasped the circle around the top of Glorfindel's sac, the weights pulling down on his testicles. "Do you not agree?"

"No, Sir," Glorfindel said.

Thranduil didn't like the almost bored quality of Glorfindel's voice. He was certain Glorfindel *wasn't* bored, as his sex was already fully engorged, and there was a telltale flush of his skin. His body and his voice were at odds.

"I want you to go the wall, brace your hands above your head against it, and spread your legs," Thranduil instructed, shedding his tunic and tying his hair back with a thong.

He watched as Glorfindel did as he was told, and did it with the grace of a dancer. Thranduil took his time choosing which flogger he would use, settling on one that had medium strips of leather. It wasn't a beginner's whip, as Glorfindel was no beginner, but it wasn't something that would draw blood -- that could be saved for a later encounter when he knew Glorfindel's boundaries better.

Thranduil dragged the leather strips up Glorfindel's back, then back down to caress the swell of his backside. He saw Glorfindel shiver. He chuckled, stepped back, and began to swing the flogger.

A rhythm was set, the sound and motions a song. Glorfindel's breathing became louder, adding to the composition, and Thranduil increased the strength of his blows the longer they stood there. Glorfindel's back and buttocks soon became pink, then red. The flogger's lash wasn't enough to raise welts, which was one of the reasons Thranduil had chosen it, but he noticed that though Glorfindel's breathing was intensified, his posture and muscle tension were rather relaxed.

He stopped whipping Glorfindel, pressing his bare chest and aroused groin to Glorfindel's hot skin. "Do you like my choice?" he purred near Glorfindel's ear.

"Yes, Sir," Glorfindel murmured. His tone told Thranduil that Glorfindel had gone to that wonderful realm all Tumbor did when in a session.

"Do you want something more?" Thranduil asked.

"Yes, Sir," Glorfindel said eagerly.

Thranduil smiled against Glorfindel's throat. He parted from Glorfindel and returned to his selection of whips and floggers. This time, he chose one with many thin, braided thongs. It would raise welts, but if he wasn't careful, it could draw blood. Drawing blood was not part of the plan this afternoon.

The lash brought out more redness, and soon enough, the welts. Thranduil always kept a close eye on Glorfindel's body language, ready to restrain himself should there be the slightest sign of discomfort or hesitancy. Glorfindel, though, never changed. The more Thranduil thought about it, observed it, the more certain he was of what he was witnessing.

Glorfindel did not flow with the scene.

His body did not sway and move with the lash. His cries didn't harmonize with the crack. His entire demeanour was of one experiencing something, but not *feeling* it.

Thranduil was yanked utterly out of the moment by the *wrongness* of Glorfindel's behaviour, but he didn't stop. He chose instead to make some rudimentary experiments with his Tumbo.

He stopped the lashing. "Turn around, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel turned, his face and chest covered in a sheen of swear. His pupils were huge, his face flushed brightly, and his erection was as attentive as when they first began. As he stared at Glorfindel's shaft, he saw the raised scar of the wolf's head. "Did Master Erestor carve your flesh?" he asked.

Conversation would tell him much.

"Yes, Sir," Glorfindel answered.

"Did you like it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Is he also the one who placed this brand on your thigh?"

"Yes, Sir."

The answers were immediate, were respectful, but there was *nothing* behind them. No emotion. No pride, no fear, no anger, no love. It was as if they were speaking of the weather.

It annoyed Thranduil.

"Kneel," he commanded.

"Yes, Sir." Instantly, Glorfindel was on the floor.

"Do you like being on your knees?" Thranduil asked, circling Glorfindel.

Glorfindel's eyes remained on the floor in front of him, his hands laced at the back of his neck obediently. "Yes, Sir."

"What is it you want, Glorfindel?" Thranduil crouched just behind Glorfindel. "Tell me what it is you want out of these sessions."

"To please you, Sir."

Thranduil's jaw tightened. It was the *appropriate* answer, but not the truth. He wasn't certain Glorfindel even knew what it was he wanted, let alone needed.

"Very well," Thranduil said as he stood. "Let us see if you can please me."

With Glorfindel's hair pinned, his shoulders were exposed. They, just like the rest of his backside, were red with small welts. Thranduil mercilessly struck them with the braided whip, calculating each blow carefully. He had a purpose, one that made him sick in his stomach, but he had to know.

Glorfindel panted with the increasing pain; his body shook with the effort to remain poised just so. Then it happened, what Thranduil had been waiting for.

The skin of Glorfindel's shoulders broke, thin stripes of vibrant red appearing as Thranduil drew blood.

And still, Glorfindel remained quiet.

Thranduil stopped, panting himself, and stared at the damaged shoulders.

'He has no pain threshold,' he thought to himself. Or, if he did, Glorfindel had been trained -- either by Erestor or through his own means -- to ignore the pain.

It was a dangerous trait to possess, and with a poor Ingor, the results would be disastrous.

Thranduil was disturbed right down to the core of his being. He might be a harsh Ingor. He might be depraved in many respects. He might even be a complete degenerate. But this? What knelt before him with no regard to personal safety or the sport of the game that should have played out here rocked him.

He unfastened the collar, and Glorfindel's shoulders slumped, shook with silent sobs. Thranduil couldn't determine if they were of pain or relief. As he tossed the collar to the table, he noticed that Glorfindel was *still* aroused. Not once had his sex softened.

It was all too much for the shameless king.

"Go to the bed, Glorfindel, and lie on your stomach so I can tend to your back," he said gently.

Even now, Glorfindel unfailingly did what he was told without question, rebellion, or even pride. Every Elf Thranduil had known to endure such treatment without losing their arousal or calling out the safe word would have proudly stood, would have smugly flopped to the bed, intent on their reward of being cared for following such intensity.

Glorfindel behaved as if this was just one more order to follow blindly.

Thranduil blotted Glorfindel's shoulders with a cool, damp rag, looking more closely at the wounds. They were superficial, just as he'd planned for them to be, but they should have stung like the fires of Morgoth. Glorfindel *should* have been recoiling from the touch.

He just lay there passively.

Thranduil spent some time massaging salve into the cuts and welts, all in silence. When he was done, he wiped his hands, stood, and fetched Glorfindel's clothes. When he returned, Glorfindel was sitting up, and his erection had finally begun to abate. Thranduil held out Glorfindel's breeches, his eyes masked.

"You can return in a few days, when the welts and bruises heal," he said evenly. "We can continue then."

Glorfindel stiffly dressed. "In the afternoon?"

"Yes."

Glorfindel nodded, shoved his feet into his boots, and left the bedroom. Thranduil followed him to the door, then grasped Glorfindel's wrist.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Thranduil asked, looking up into Glorfindel's eyes. Now that the collar was off, Glorfindel stood tall, and there was that confidence and pride that Thranduil had seen so often.

Glorfindel smiled, bright and pleased. "Yes, Thranduil. I enjoyed myself very much. Thank you." Glorfindel kissed Thranduil's cheek boldly, and then ducked out the door.

Thranduil watched him walk down the hall. He frowned, shut the door, and then leaned against it with his arms crossed.

There was something seriously wrong with all of this. From Erestor to Glorfindel to the whole damn valley. He shoved off from the door and stalked back into his bedroom to clean up.

*****

It didn't take him long to locate the Elf he was seeking.

Erestor was seated in a gazebo surrounded by white roses. The roses were potent, and he wondered how Erestor could remain in their midst for so long. It took some mustering of courage, but finally, he crossed the garden and climbed the steps of the gazebo.

"Master Erestor?" he asked softly, drawing Erestor's attention from his thoughts.

Erestor looked him up and down. The muvael had worn clothing, for walking around the Last Homely House without Thranduil and partially nude was not something he'd wanted to do. Erestor's approving nod gave him hope, and he sat beside the Councillor.

"Do you have a name?" Erestor questioned. "Or has the pompous ass stripped you of that, too?"

"It pleases Lord Thranduil to call me Teledan," the slave replied.

Erestor smirked and said, "How appropriate."

Teledan smiled in return. "It is."

"Did Thranduil send you?" Erestor asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

"No. When my Lord Thranduil has no need of my services, my time is my own," Teledan explained.

Erestor was silent for so long that Teledan wondered if he'd been forgotten, but then the dark Elf spoke. "Do you like your service?"

"Very much so. I have learned much in my time with my Lord Thranduil."

"Then I assume he is an adequate teacher?" Erestor now turned to face Teledan, his face in the shadows of the gazebo.

Teledan nodded. "Yes. My training has been more than adequate, both with my Lord Thranduil and with those he has given me to for brief times."

"So, he shares you with others?"

"Yes, Master Erestor. He has great pride in my obedience and tolerances, and so he enjoys seeing what I can endure with other Ingori." Teledan was always so happy when he returned from another Ingor to see Thranduil's pleased smile. That smile was why he did all he did.

Erestor stood up. "Is that so?" Erestor asked, leaning against the railing.

"Yes, Master Erestor," he replied, smiling up at the imposing Noldo.

"He wants you to have him," a voice whispered from behind Erestor. Erestor tried his best to not allow his expression to change, but his skin crawled. "He is here, and Glorfindel is not. Probably with that damn king. Accept this one's unspoken offer and *have* him, Erestor."

Erestor's head spun, and he tried his best to ignore the slithering voice so close to his ear. "Have you been under another Ingor recently?" he asked.

"No, Master Erestor," Teledan said. "My Lord Thranduil has required my services."

"But no longer?" Erestor demanded sharply.

Teledan smiled impassively. "Not at the moment, Master Erestor. His time is otherwise occupied. I find myself in need of another Ingor."

"You see? He is practically throwing himself at you! Take it, Erestor. Take it and make Glorfindel *pay* for abandoning you for the pompous ass of a king. A king, Erestor! You were stupid to let him go to Mirkwood; do not repeat that stupidity and allow this one to get away. You have to do this. He is a slave."

Erestor closed his eyes. Teledan might be a slave, but he was not *Erestor's* slave.

"A slave exists to be used, Erestor. Do you remember nothing I taught you? You do a slave a disservice by not using him. A disservice. It is their *purpose*."

It was so tempting to listen to that damned voice. Oily and dirty, it continued to whisper to him. Tempt him. It had been so long since he had properly dominated anyone but Glorfindel. Teledan was asking him to do it, and Thranduil had discarded the slave for another.

"Most likely Glorfindel. You have heard the whispers. You know he warms the king's bed."

Teledan noticed a change come over Erestor's face then. Something shifted, and sharp lines appeared on his face. It made him no longer look inviting, but cold and cunning. Teledan was beginning to wonder if he had chosen the wrong path, seeking out Erestor like this.

But Thranduil had cast him aside for Erestor's mate. It was only fair! Even if Erestor unnerved him a little.

"Would you like to visit with me one day this week?" Erestor asked, his voice now like slick ice.

Teledan repressed a shudder. "If it would please my Lord Erestor."

He smiled slowly, and the expression shot fear through Teledan's heart. "It would please me greatly, Teledan."

TBC...