The Dark Star of Gondolin
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
7,610
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
7,610
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 13
Title: The Dark Star of Gondolin
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Websites: http://lynsey-schadegg.livejournal.com/ and http://lotr.adult-fanfiction.org/authors.php?no=1296789875
Mailing List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Fiction_by_Lynsey/
Beta: None
Chapter: 13/?
Pairings: Durel/Turgon implied
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing subject matter
Warnings: Hermaphrodite, minor in a sexual situation
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summary: Evil comes in many forms.
A/N: Durel is approximately equal in age to a 16/17 year old human. This is an excerpt from Durel’s journal.
Dear Valar what have I gotten myself into?
I have never been beaten as violently as I was that night with Maeglin. In my time as a Courtesan, I have crossed the line between pleasure and pain many a time. The two sensations can become tangled in one another until you don't know where one begins and the other ends. Pain can be its own kind of pleasure in a way, and I am no stranger to both taking and giving pain in all its erotic forms.
That, however, was not what I experienced at the hands of that mad man.
He beat me. No subtle manipulation of the pain to turn it into pleasure. He got off on beating me bloody. The fucking psychopath didn't let up until I was a pleading, begging, crying mess on the floor of Turgon's beautiful sitting room. Only sharp reminders from Turgon kept him from doing permanent harm or marking my face. Eventually, the beating stopped and the sick fuck unlaced his pants and jerked off over my bloody body.
I was in shock. Neither during my times as a whore in the slums or as Ecthelion’s pleasure slave had anyone done something as disgusting as this. I had been hurt yes, but not like this. Never like this. I had never seen someone become sexually aroused by physical violence. It just was not the nature of the elven kind. Pain mixed with pleasure in the delicate dance of agony and incredible ecstasy, that path I knew well and trod often. Turgon was fascinated with that type of play, and indulged in it with me at every opportunity as his other Courtesans usually refused to be...used in such a way. It never seemed that much different to me than regular sex. Both were something to be used as a tool; something to get me what I wanted and to be endured in the mean time. However, Turgon had never left a bruise on my skin, preferring instead to turn it red with stinging marks. He had never bloodied me.
At the end of his pleasure Maeglin left the sitting area without a word and retreated into one of the inner rooms of the royal suite. I could do nothing but lay on the floor panting and softly crying out in torment. I had never dealt with the pain of a serious beating before. I didn’t know how to collect myself or how to block out the worst of the pain so that I could move, escape. My mind was so traumatized and hazy with grief that I could not think through one thought to the other. So use to being in complete and utter control of my body I was only causing myself to panic more with my inability to control myself.
After many minutes of nothing but the sounds of my agonal breathing I was startled as Turgon stood from his seat on the couch. I had forgotten he was even in the room. The King took several slow steps over to me and knelt by my side.
I cringed as his hand swept aside my sweat matted locks. I had only been this fearful one other time in my life, and that was when my Lord ejected me from his home. I feared for my life. Worse than that actually. I feared that this was my life from now on.
His hand delicately caressed my face and traced the outline of features he would not let Maeglin defile. I couldn’t help but sob in panic stricken terror.
“I won’t let him do this again,” Turgon said quietly. “I gave you to him this one time in this way. I knew you could survive it, unlike the others.” I could hear the overconfident smile in his voice. “Always the strong one you are.” Another stroke across my face and a caress to my lips. “From now on he will play by my rules when with you. You will not be hurt so again.” The King stood and let my hair fall back into my face, and I lay shivering on the floor wondering what would happen next.
Another door opened, which I assumed to be the main door to the corridor. Heavy footsteps trod inside and someone other than the King knelt beside me this time. I was wrapped in a blanket and maneuvered into a pair of strong arms while I whined quietly in pain. Cracking open my eyes briefly I recognized the arms as belonging to Ecthelion. He was surprisingly gentle, and held me closely as he passed by the King on his way out the door.
“Remember,” the King murmured as we neared him, “speak of this to no one. I trust you can stay quiet in this matter?” I knew the question was not directed at me. Part of my profession was the absolute knowledge that everything done with a client was confidential. I was trained from day one never to reveal anything that happened with one lord to another.
I felt Ecthelion nod.
“Good. Take him back to his owner.”
He made me sound like a dog.
Ecthelion swiftly took me to a carriage that waited for us in one of the side courtyards. This area was quiet this time of night and less traveled. It wouldn’t do to let someone see me as I was. There would be questions the King would be hard pressed to answer.
Every bump and jostle of the conveyance brought a harsh gasp of pain on my part. I was nonplussed by Ecthelion’s actions; the tender way he cradled me and tried to brace me against the jarring of the carriage was beyond odd. Maybe he, in his own way, was just as horrified as I was by Maeglin’s actions.
Again, even though Ecthelion was not a kind or gentle master, and the age at which he preferred his pleasure slaves was unwholesome at best and revolting at worst, he had never caused this kind of injury to me or any other slave that I knew from my days in his household. There had been pain, yes. I could not deny that. But he never simply beat me for his own pleasure. Pain in my life had always been a side effect of the situation in which I found myself, not necessarily the goal of whatever antagonist I found myself struggling against.
The carriage rumbled to a stop in front of my Lord’s manor. I went in and out of consciousness during the ride, and I was more comatose than aware when Ecthelion carried me into the house. I heard the page boys and servants acknowledging Ecthelion and ushering him inside. Glorfindel’s frantic footfalls met my ears and I was shortly transferred into the arms of my beloved. I sighed in relief at finally feeling safe. Movement again, probably into our bed chamber as the next thing I felt was the soft caress of our bed underneath me. I vaguely recall conversation going on around me and snippets of Glorfindel’s angry tones mixed with Ecthelion’s grim responses.
In too much pain and shock to stay awake any longer, I slipped into oblivion.
And the nightmares started.
TBC…
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Websites: http://lynsey-schadegg.livejournal.com/ and http://lotr.adult-fanfiction.org/authors.php?no=1296789875
Mailing List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Fiction_by_Lynsey/
Beta: None
Chapter: 13/?
Pairings: Durel/Turgon implied
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing subject matter
Warnings: Hermaphrodite, minor in a sexual situation
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summary: Evil comes in many forms.
A/N: Durel is approximately equal in age to a 16/17 year old human. This is an excerpt from Durel’s journal.
Dear Valar what have I gotten myself into?
I have never been beaten as violently as I was that night with Maeglin. In my time as a Courtesan, I have crossed the line between pleasure and pain many a time. The two sensations can become tangled in one another until you don't know where one begins and the other ends. Pain can be its own kind of pleasure in a way, and I am no stranger to both taking and giving pain in all its erotic forms.
That, however, was not what I experienced at the hands of that mad man.
He beat me. No subtle manipulation of the pain to turn it into pleasure. He got off on beating me bloody. The fucking psychopath didn't let up until I was a pleading, begging, crying mess on the floor of Turgon's beautiful sitting room. Only sharp reminders from Turgon kept him from doing permanent harm or marking my face. Eventually, the beating stopped and the sick fuck unlaced his pants and jerked off over my bloody body.
I was in shock. Neither during my times as a whore in the slums or as Ecthelion’s pleasure slave had anyone done something as disgusting as this. I had been hurt yes, but not like this. Never like this. I had never seen someone become sexually aroused by physical violence. It just was not the nature of the elven kind. Pain mixed with pleasure in the delicate dance of agony and incredible ecstasy, that path I knew well and trod often. Turgon was fascinated with that type of play, and indulged in it with me at every opportunity as his other Courtesans usually refused to be...used in such a way. It never seemed that much different to me than regular sex. Both were something to be used as a tool; something to get me what I wanted and to be endured in the mean time. However, Turgon had never left a bruise on my skin, preferring instead to turn it red with stinging marks. He had never bloodied me.
At the end of his pleasure Maeglin left the sitting area without a word and retreated into one of the inner rooms of the royal suite. I could do nothing but lay on the floor panting and softly crying out in torment. I had never dealt with the pain of a serious beating before. I didn’t know how to collect myself or how to block out the worst of the pain so that I could move, escape. My mind was so traumatized and hazy with grief that I could not think through one thought to the other. So use to being in complete and utter control of my body I was only causing myself to panic more with my inability to control myself.
After many minutes of nothing but the sounds of my agonal breathing I was startled as Turgon stood from his seat on the couch. I had forgotten he was even in the room. The King took several slow steps over to me and knelt by my side.
I cringed as his hand swept aside my sweat matted locks. I had only been this fearful one other time in my life, and that was when my Lord ejected me from his home. I feared for my life. Worse than that actually. I feared that this was my life from now on.
His hand delicately caressed my face and traced the outline of features he would not let Maeglin defile. I couldn’t help but sob in panic stricken terror.
“I won’t let him do this again,” Turgon said quietly. “I gave you to him this one time in this way. I knew you could survive it, unlike the others.” I could hear the overconfident smile in his voice. “Always the strong one you are.” Another stroke across my face and a caress to my lips. “From now on he will play by my rules when with you. You will not be hurt so again.” The King stood and let my hair fall back into my face, and I lay shivering on the floor wondering what would happen next.
Another door opened, which I assumed to be the main door to the corridor. Heavy footsteps trod inside and someone other than the King knelt beside me this time. I was wrapped in a blanket and maneuvered into a pair of strong arms while I whined quietly in pain. Cracking open my eyes briefly I recognized the arms as belonging to Ecthelion. He was surprisingly gentle, and held me closely as he passed by the King on his way out the door.
“Remember,” the King murmured as we neared him, “speak of this to no one. I trust you can stay quiet in this matter?” I knew the question was not directed at me. Part of my profession was the absolute knowledge that everything done with a client was confidential. I was trained from day one never to reveal anything that happened with one lord to another.
I felt Ecthelion nod.
“Good. Take him back to his owner.”
He made me sound like a dog.
Ecthelion swiftly took me to a carriage that waited for us in one of the side courtyards. This area was quiet this time of night and less traveled. It wouldn’t do to let someone see me as I was. There would be questions the King would be hard pressed to answer.
Every bump and jostle of the conveyance brought a harsh gasp of pain on my part. I was nonplussed by Ecthelion’s actions; the tender way he cradled me and tried to brace me against the jarring of the carriage was beyond odd. Maybe he, in his own way, was just as horrified as I was by Maeglin’s actions.
Again, even though Ecthelion was not a kind or gentle master, and the age at which he preferred his pleasure slaves was unwholesome at best and revolting at worst, he had never caused this kind of injury to me or any other slave that I knew from my days in his household. There had been pain, yes. I could not deny that. But he never simply beat me for his own pleasure. Pain in my life had always been a side effect of the situation in which I found myself, not necessarily the goal of whatever antagonist I found myself struggling against.
The carriage rumbled to a stop in front of my Lord’s manor. I went in and out of consciousness during the ride, and I was more comatose than aware when Ecthelion carried me into the house. I heard the page boys and servants acknowledging Ecthelion and ushering him inside. Glorfindel’s frantic footfalls met my ears and I was shortly transferred into the arms of my beloved. I sighed in relief at finally feeling safe. Movement again, probably into our bed chamber as the next thing I felt was the soft caress of our bed underneath me. I vaguely recall conversation going on around me and snippets of Glorfindel’s angry tones mixed with Ecthelion’s grim responses.
In too much pain and shock to stay awake any longer, I slipped into oblivion.
And the nightmares started.
TBC…