Mael-Gul

Authors note: Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic.
This story was inspired by Bluegolds story "Bound", which can be found at this archive, and also here:
http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue. I use the plot idea here with her permission.
Feedback: Yes please! Send to Aislynn.Crowdaughter@gmx.net
This is my first LOTR fic, and I am no native speaker. Any comments welcome, including about grammar!

Betareader: Many thanks to Surreysmum, who made all this so much better!
She also saved me from some serious embarrassment. All remaining errors are my own.

Disclaimer: The universe I play in is not mine. It was created by J.R.R. Tolkien, who also owns the characters, safe a few original characters in side roles. Peter Jackson owns the Movies. I just borrow both here for my own enjoyment. I make no money out of this. The idea of the Mael-Gûl, or Rhach e-Maelangwedh (Lust-Spell, Curse of Lustchain) however is entirely mine.

Special warnings for this chapter: BDSM, in graphic detail, Non-Con and debatable consent.
And Torture. Really hard stuff! I mean it! Don't read if you don't like!

For all other warnings, disclaimers and author's notes see Prologue.


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XIII.


Legolas made his way hesitantly to the chambers of his master. He knew he was late, and this would add to his punishment; yet he did not think that it really mattered much anymore.

At least he had prepared himself the way his master liked it; he had visited the baths, cleansed and purged himself, but had not yet prepared his entrance. Aragorn would want to do that himself, if he even bothered to do it at all tonight.

Legolas trembled.

He entered the chambers he shared with his master fearful in anticipation. Aragorn was already there. He had opened the big trunk near the bed and laid out some of its contents. He had also lit some of the candles. The big ones, of fine white wax, that burned hot and brightly and gave a lot of light.

Aragorn looked around to him as he entered, but did not smile.

“You are late,” he stated flatly. “Enter. Close the door and bolt it.”

Legolas shuddered at the tone. Aragorn was in a terrible mood tonight. Wordlessly, he obeyed, then stepped into the middle of the room to wait for further commands.

Aragorn regarded him.

“Come closer!” he commanded.

Legolas obeyed.

The Ranger moved around him, sizing him up appraisingly with a long look-over. The slave wore fresh garments, he was freshly bathed, and his hair and skin were still somewhat damp. He stood before his master with demurely bowed head, looking to the ground.

Aragorn nodded approvingly. “I see you have cleansed. Have you also purged yourself?” he asked.

Legolas blushed, but nodded.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes. “Good,” he said, “You are prepared, I see. That is well, for this will be a long night.”

Then he commanded harshly: “Close the windows. The shutters, too. Then light the other candles.”

Shivering, the slave obeyed. Soon, the room was closed off from the outside world, but lit brightly by a great number of candles that gave soft, warm light.

Silently, Legolas moved back to the spot in the middle of the room to wait for his master's orders.

Aragorn regarded him with a dark look.

“You are finished? Good. Undress!” he ordered.

Swallowing hard, the slave obeyed. He had been punished before, even harshly, and he was used to Estel's games, but rarely he had seen Aragorn in such a dangerous and stormy mood at these occasions. Slowly, he slipped out of his boots, then his clothes, and folded them neatly, placing them on a chair. Then he stood again before his master, head bowed, in unprotected nakedness.

Aragorn took a slim, straight whip from the bed and moved around him. It was one of the smaller ones that stung and bit deeply into the skin when used. Slowly, he let the tip of the lash trail over the naked skin of the slave, not hurting yet but tracing all the places where it would bite in later. At a small gesture, Legolas moved his legs further apart, and the whip trailed his thighs, then his genitals.

“Do you know how much you embarrassed me today?” Aragorn asked. “First by offering to take the punishment for Mirkwood without my authorization, forcing me to explain that you acted without my accord, only to then go on and contradict Lord Elrond when he stated his judgment! And not only that, but also you blurted out my true identity unbidden at the council for all to hear, and then attacked and insulted that man of Gondor.”

The whip trailed up to the chest of the slave, under his chin, tipping it up lightly and forcing him to meet his master's gaze.

“Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

Legolas swallowed. Commanded to speak like that he slowly bowed his head again in a submissive gesture.

“I am sorry, master,” he said quietly and fearfully. “I request punishment, if you would grace me with it.”

The whip tipped his chin up again. Aragorn commanded: “Look at me!” Slowly and hesitantly, the slave obeyed. Aragorn met his fearful gaze and nodded.

“And punishment you shall receive. It will be a thorough one. I cannot go too hard on you tonight, since you need to be capable of travelling tomorrow, or this would last not only for one night, but for several days. But even so I will make sure that the pain I will inflict on you tonight will linger for a week! It will not hinder you from traveling, not even hamper you if we come into a fight, but you shall certainly feel it! This will be part of your punishment for what you did today. Do you understand?”

The Elf nodded. He was deadly pale now.

“Do you agree? Do you thank me for it?” Aragorn asked.

Legolas suppressed a sob. “Yes, master,” he managed to say, as was expected of him. “You... are gracious.”
It was part of the ritual and he would have to pay for it if he failed to thank his master for his penance, but he nearly choked on the words.

Aragorn didn't seem to notice. He just nodded.

“Good,” he said grimly. “Now get on that ladder and pull the rope through the ring in the ceiling. I will suspend you for this, so I will have better access to your body with my whip. When you are finished, secure the rope to the ring in the floor and hang the yoke to the other end. And hurry! The night is not getting younger while you delay.”

Legolas had paled even more. But now he swallowed and set himself to work as he was commanded. He was constantly trembling now. Normally, Aragorn himself used to take care of such preparations. This time, he obviously wished to add to his slave's punishment by forcing him to prepare the means of his own torture. While he worked, taking the slender wooden steps from the corner where they normally served as a stand for weapons and placing them in the middle of the room under the big iron ring in the ceiling, then fetching the rope from the trunk and climbing up to thread it through the ring, he dared to cast a careful look at the items Aragorn had selected from the trunk and laid out on the bed, ready to use. He swallowed again, fear gathering like an lump of ice within his stomach.

The big paddle, the nipple clamps, a selection of whips, and some needles were no surprise to him. These were some of Aragorn's favorite toys for his bed games with his slave and were to be expected. But there was also a new, hideously thick pleasure staff. He recognized the thing as the one Elrond had maliciously given Aragorn to use on his slave as a gift for Legolas' begetting day a few weeks earlier. Aragorn had not yet tried it out on him, because since then they had had to deal with more pressing needs. Obviously he planned to rectify that now.

But while that thing was horrifying enough, beside it rested an only too well known vial. Irritant! Aragorn planned to use the big staff on him with irritant! The sharp oil hurt enough all on its own when it was applied to the most sensitive parts of his body. Together with the staff it would be agonizing.

Biting back the tears that threatened to escape, Legolas stepped down from the ladder again and took one end of the rope to the ring set exactly for that purpose into the floor at one of the walls. He tied the rope to it, then went back to the trunk to get the yoke; a heavy wooden thing originally used at some farm, that Aragorn had obtained one day and now used for some of his more intense games with his slave when they were here in Imladris. He heaved the thing out of the trunk and carried it back to the steps, then tied it to the rope. Afterwards he went back to the wall and wound the rope around three big iron anchors embedded there for this purpose, until the heavy yoke was dangling from the ceiling about two or three feet higher than he stood himself. Finally he went back to secure the restraints that would bind him to the yoke at his master's pleasure.

The whole time his stomach was churning in fear and he had to fight the impulse to flee, or to attack. Yet he suppressed it. There was no escape out of this room save at his master's will, and there was no way out of this situation save upon Aragorn's decision. And Aragorn did not seem inclined to show him any leniency tonight.

Aragorn had settled himself on the bed and watched him work. While Legolas was struggling to get the heavy yoke up the steps and tie it to the rope, he said conversationally: “You know, originally I had planned anyway to take you thoroughly tonight.”

Cocking his head and watching his slave with glittering eyes, he continued with the same, deceptively casual voice: “But I had planned this night to be special, something slow and careful and intense, and solely for the sake of enjoyment. I had completely planned it out for weeks.”

More harshly he added: “And you ruined it! That will add to your punishment. This will be a night to remember for you!”

There was a dangerous undertone in his voice, and Legolas suppressed a sob again. He was finished with his preparations and moved back to the spot where he had stood before, now directly under the dangling yoke.

Aragorn nodded approvingly. He got up and stepped close. He seized the chin of his slave, tipped it up and kissed him deeply. When he pulled back, he said quietly: “You will suffer thoroughly tonight. But you will bear it bravely, will you not? You will do so for me. I know you will!”

His voice was barely audible over the quiet sputtering of the flickering candles, yet Legolas, who stood less than a step before him, heard it clearly enough. He was confused, even more as the quiet reassurance was followed by a harsh command.

“Now!” Aragorn said harshly as he let go of him, “Get yourself up to that yoke! Arms spread! Put your wrists to the restraints!”

Legolas obeyed. He stepped up the steps again and set his wrists to the two ends of the wooden form. Aragorn stepped up after him and fastened the restraints around them, binding him tightly and with fully spread arms to the instrument of torture. Then he stepped down and back to the bed again. He took a big, long wooden staff and brought it back to his slave. Then he knelt and tied the end of the staff fast to one of Legolas ankles. He took the other ankle and commanded: “Spread!”

Gasping and shivering in fear, the slave obeyed. He gasped again as the sudden weakening of his stance on the steps threatened his balance, and his master growled a terse “Be still!” Then Aragorn finished tying the ankle to the other end of the staff and removed the ladder, and Legolas gasped again as he lost his supporting stand and the sudden weight of his own body put strain on his back and shoulder blades. He shivered and struggled to remain calm.

Aragorn put the ladder to the side, out of the way, and stepped back to admire his work. He regarded the spread-eagled slave with satisfaction and dark pleasure.

“Beautiful!” he growled. “I think I may leave you like this for some time, at least for a start. Later I might prefer to let you stand and bow for me, though. I may have uses for your mouth tonight that would be a bit hampered by your current position.”

He went back to the wall and unwound a hand or two of the rope off the anchors until the bound feet of the slave were just about half a foot above the ground. While the spread-eagled Elf was still completely suspended, now every part of his body remained within easy reach for his tormentor. Legolas gasped as the sudden fall aggravated the strain on his arms and shoulders and sent bolts of pain though him. He bit his lips to try and remain silent, since he had not been allowed to speak or make any noise.

Aragorn took a moment more to regard his work, then he set the ladder carefully back into its corner and came back to his slave.

He stepped to the bed and picked up the discarded whip again. “Now,” he growled, “my dear, disobedient Elf, you will learn what it means to earn my wrath! Do you request punishment?”

Nearly inaudible, the slave answered: “Yes, master.”

“Do you ask me to grace you with it now?”

Again, the slave whispered: “Yes, master.”

Aragorn corrected: “Yes, master, please.”

Legolas sobbed. “Yes, master, please. Please grace me with my punishment, if I may ask,” he managed to say.

Aragorn smiled grimly and caressed his thighs and butt one more time with the whip.

“Brave Little Leaf!” he praised. “And so I will. You shall have it.”

And with that he let the first harsh blow fall on his slave's unprotected back.

Legolas hissed. He was rewarded with another blow.

“Be silent!” Aragorn commanded harshly. “This is just the start! This will be twenty blows for starters to your back, and twenty to your thighs, and another five to your ass. Later, I will give your rear a taste of the paddle. And I wish you to be silent through it, save I command you otherwise! If you make any noise, your buttocks will get twenty more!”

Legolas swallowed. He did his best to keep silent as the whip bit into him again, but at the third lash he could not suppress a sob.

Aragorn grinned.

“All right,” he said, stepping close and caressing the Elf's yet unbeaten buttocks with his hand, “so you seem to like this! Very well. You will have twenty-five lashes to your backside, then, and five more with the paddle. I am afraid you won't be able to sit for a while, Little Leaf!”

Then he stepped back again and let the next blow fall.

Legolas hissed, then sobbed again. The lashes were burning like fire on his back and the pain was ever increasing. Aragorn's blows were harsh, though he was mindful not to tear the skin; but even so the whip left angry red welts wherever it bit into the slave's back, and Legolas' trembling was constant now. Tears flowed unchecked down his cheeks and he was breathing hard. The next blow fell, and the next, and the Elf could not suppress his sobbing any more, although he tried to keep it quiet as he had been ordered.

Aragorn kept whipping, methodically placing the lashes criss-cross the shoulder blades and back of his slave. He was mindful not to place too many blows directly to the shoulders, even where they were not covered by the yoke. Legolas would need to be capable of carrying his harness and his quiver when they started their journey tomorrow, although it would be extremely painful for the Elf. And in any case he had to restrain himself from doing too much damage tonight, since there was not much time to heal. Even so, his blows were meant to linger, and Legolas would bear the angry welts well into the next week.

As always, seeing his slave's feeble attempts to escape, hearing his harsh breathing, his obediently checked sobs made him hard and burning with desire. But he would wait. The night was long, and he had much more planned for his slave, even if he could not go as slowly and carefully as he normally would have done.

Even so, he felt the familiar connection build between them, felt himself focusing intently on every reaction of his helpless victim, felt his groin react directly to Legolas' every sob, every quiver and sign of pain, felt his own breathing quicken at the muffled noises of his slave's little whimpers. He finished on the back, stepping close and in front of his victim. Legolas face was barely higher than its normal level, and he just needed to tiptoe a bit to get himself to the height of his slave's mouth.

He reached around to the back of his suspended victim and ran both his hands over the hurting welts. “So beautiful,” he praised very quietly, “you are so beautiful like this, melethron!” He held the dangling body under his hands close and kissed his victim, deeply. He pulled back and added still quietly: “You are a sight to behold!”

Then he let go, stepped back and added louder and more harshly:

“I advise you to keep from sobbing just yet, though. This is just the start! There is much more in store for you, and it is nothing more than you deserve! So be silent!

He saw Legolas swallow and muffle another sob, and smiled. “Time to do your thighs. I will greatly enjoy taking you when they burn and hurt with every touch all next week!” he brutally said.

And with that he stepped back behind his helpless victim and began methodically to whip his thighs and ass. By the time he was through, Legolas' few muffled sobs had turned into a constant, soft whimper, and the thighs and buttocks of the bound slave were bright red.

Aragorn stepped close again and caressed the aching buttocks, then he went back to the bed, set the whip away and fetched the paddle.

“Now! Brace yourself! Count!”

Legolas could not suppress a scream as the first, hard blow fell on his burning, hurting ass. He sobbed, then tried to gather himself back through the haze of pain to follow the command he'd been given. Muffled and barely audible, but with effort, he mumbled: “One.”

Aragorn yanked his hair, drawing a startled hiss.

“What was that? I didn't hear! Louder!” he commanded.

Legolas fought for breath.

“One, master,” he said. “May I ask to be graced with another?”

Aragorn let out a low, satisfied breath and let go of his hair. “Better,” he growled. “Yes, you may.”
And with that he let the next blow fall.

The pain was excruciating. Legolas muffled the scream that threatened to escape this time, but he could not suppress another sob and his violent shuddering. With great effort and shivering in fear and apprehension he found his voice and counted:

“Second. May I ask you for the next one, master?”

Inwardly he screamed: 'No! Oh, please, no! Saes(1)! No!' -- but he knew there was no point in begging, it would merely earn him another punishment, given Aragorn's current mood.

He could hear his master's smile in his voice. “Brave Little Leaf! Yes, you may. Now!”

The third blow fell, and Legolas bit his lips to keep from screaming. The lashes had hurt and they still burned like fire, but this – the hard paddle biting his sore skin and his bruised, aggravated flesh – was nearly unbearable. And it was just a part of what was to come, he knew.

“Third, master,” he said shaken, when he found air enough to do so. His voice nearly choked on the ordered and expected question.

“May I... may I ask... to have...”

He could not say it. Finally Aragorn came to his aid. “Do you wish to have another one?” he asked harshly.

Shivering, Legolas forced himself to give the expected answer. “Yes, master, please!”

Inwardly, he screamed: 'Please, stop! Estel! No more! Please, please..'

Yet he did not dare to say it. This was punishment, not a game, and he would be more harshly and more cruelly punished if he broke the protocol that was expected of him. He did not wish to gain himself another five or seven blows.

“And you shall have it,” Aragorn said and delivered the fourth blow.

Legolas screamed, then half swallowed the scream and merely sobbed. It took some time until he managed to utter: “Fourth.”

Behind him, he could hear Aragorn stepping close again and felt him caressing his burning, hurting ass. Very quietly, he could hear his master whisper to him: “You are doing this well, Little Leaf! You are magnificent! I am proud of you! Come on! It is just one more to bear, you can do this! Be brave for me. Come on!”

He was barely audible between the sobs and whimpering of his victim and probably too quiet to be heard more then a few steps away, but his voice and words made their ways into Legolas muddled mind and restored a little of his strength. Estel had not left him! He was still with him, although the harshness and cruelty of this punishment he was putting him through was new to Legolas and scared him to his core.

With great effort and carefully gathered breath Legolas forced himself to ask: “May... May I have the next one... master?”

He felt a last, hurting squeeze of his ass and a barely audible: “Brave Little Leaf!”, then Aragorn stepped back and said aloud: “Yes, you may have it. This is the last one. Count, then thank me!”

And the blow fell.

He screamed again, then whimpered. Fighting with his bonds and the harsh strain on his back, he managed to get out: “Five... I... thank you... master, for... the just.. and thorough.. punishment.”
His voice was muffled in tears.

Aragorn threw the paddle away, back to the bed, and stepped close again. He hugged him from behind, pressing him close, causing pain where the hurting buttocks and thighs and the welts on the back of the slave came in contact with the Adan's hard body.

“You did well,” he said. “However, this was just the first part of your punishment. The next part follows now, and there is more to come after that. Keep silent! You have no leave to beg, scream, or speak save when you are commanded to do so!”

He let go of his victim and stepped back to the bed. “It is time I prepared you now, since later I plan to sheathe myself in you. Albeit I plan to make good use of your mouth, tonight, too! But you do not deserve to be prepared merely with balm or oil to ease the way. So tonight I will use something more befitting your deeds.”

With that he took the vial with the irritant and stepped back to his shivering slave.

Legolas trembled. He was confused and shaken with fear. He knew what was to come would hurt immensely, nearly unbearably, yet even more he was terrified by his tormentor's harshness and by his unprecedented cruelty. There was a new dark side to his master that he had not encountered this clearly and harshly ever before. Something deep within him screamed for Estel, begged him to return, to stop hurting him, at least not this much, but he had been forbidden to beg for mercy or even to show pain, if not explicitly given leave to do it. Trembling with fear he waited for the threatened new torment.

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-- TBC --


Notes:

(1) Saes! --Sindarin: Please!


Reply to Reviewers:


Ertia: Here it is. A whole chapter of Legolas-torture in graphic detail, and more to come. I hope it was worth the wait. As for your remark: You are right of course: what was he thinking, being late? But I doubt very much that it made much difference anymore...

Kristy: Thank you so very much! (Blush!) It is a great compliment and very flattering to know that this story is good enough to catch and hook an unsuspecting reader... I hope you still enjoy!

Naira:Yes, Glorfindel is pretty decent, and he cares about Legolas. Of course, so does Aragorn... in his special way.

Charadras: Here it is. I hope it was worth the wait. And it is not even finished yet, I am afraid! The punishment will continue in the next chapter.

nightbreeze: Ah, but in this story, Elrond' meanness is just at the worst end of the scale (at least in Rivendell). It really is a matter of degrees, I am afraid. Sorry! Still, I agree that Elrond could use a bit of having his neck wrung.


Greetings,

Aislynn