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 polished this and made
it so much better! She also saved me from some serious embarrassment.
All still 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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XIV.


Aragorn opened the vial and coated his fingers in the irritant. Then he closed the vial again and set it carefully aside, before stepping close to the helpless, shivering slave again. One of his arms sneaked around the suspended body and held him firmly in place. The other found the quivering buttocks of the Elf and explored the cleft between them. He heard his victim gasp, then sob, swallowing a whimper, as the fingers made their way along the sensitive flesh to the unprotected entrance. Then he touched the puckered hole, and the slave in his grip jerked wildly and bit back a scream.

His other hand found the lifeless, flat Elfhood of his victim and closed around it, and the slave jerked again. He squeezed, and his victim sobbed and trembled harder.

“Hush! Be silent!” he commanded harshly. “You have no leave to sob or try to get away! This is nothing more than you deserve! Your tears will not avail you, for you are getting just the punishment you earned yourself! Remember that!”

And with that, one of his fingers entered the tight, resisting passage.

Legolas could not help himself. He tried to keep silent and to hold still, tried to make no attempt to move away, as he had been ordered, but he couldn't. The pain was just too great; the intruding finger with the stinging irritant was like a hot, burning stab of pure fire in his sensitive flesh, and he jerked wildly again and screamed.
Yet he could not escape; Aragorn stood close behind him and pressed his body harshly against his own, holding him tightly in the grip of his other arm, and his suspended state did not give him any leverage.
He screamed again, then sobbed and whimpered. His attempts to get away were rewarded with a harsh squeeze to his unprotected groin, and he sobbed anew.

“Daro!” Aragorn bellowed, “Stop this immediately! Now!”

Trembling, the slave tried to obey, yet he nearly choked on the suppressed words of begging and the swallowed sobs of pain.

“You earned yourself another punishment, Little Leaf,” Aragorn said coldly. “I told you to keep silent! Now I will have to do your nipples, too. After I close the clamps on them!”

Something deep in Legolas' mind screamed: 'No! Oh, please, Estel, no! Please, stop! I can not bear this! It is too much! Please...!'

Yet he did not dare to say it aloud. He had been ordered not to, and besides, the Estel he had known and trusted was gone. He did not know this harsh side of the man who was his master. Through the haze of his horror, pain and fear he heard Aragorn's voice:

“Now keep silent! Keep silent, or I'll have to gag you!”

Trembling, the slave tried to obey.

He felt the burning finger start to move within his flesh, felt it rub the irritant deep into him, and whimpered. Then the finger was withdrawn, only to be pushed harshly inside again. It hit his gland, and he gasped; then his tormentor repeated the motion and he could not keep silent anymore. He screamed again. There was another hard squeeze to his groin, drawing a helpless sob, then the finger was withdrawn, and his ass was harshly and painfully slapped. It hurt immensely. He felt as if his whole ass was on fire.

“Another scream and it will be three more blows with the paddle,” Aragorn warned. “I told you this is just the start!”

Legolas breathed hard. He tried to take deep, deliberate breaths, to ride the pain, yet he couldn't. He was terrified. Aragorn coated his hands with the irritant again and stepped back close.

He squeezed his slave's hurting buttocks, burning anew from irritant on the skin already sore from the severe beating. The squeeze drew a hiss, then more muffled sobs. Aragorn's freshly coated fingers wandered to the vulnerable cleft again. Quietly, he said: “Try to be brave for me, Little Leaf. At least try. You can do this!” He stepped into his former position again, sneaking his arm back around the stomach of his slave, and let his other hand drop back to the entrance of his victim. “Brace yourself. Now!” he commanded and entered the passage again. This time he used two fingers. He felt his slave tremble and quiver under his touch. Legolas hissed, but indeed managed not to scream again this time.

“Brave Little Leaf!” Aragorn praised. “So you can learn. Very well. I knew that you could do it! However, as I warned you, this is just the start. I'll stretch you now, to prepare you for your second punishment. So brace yourself, and open up for me. Feel this! Submit to it gracefully! You completely brought it onto yourself!”

And with that he began methodically to stretch and tease the narrow passage, then moved on to finger-fuck his helpless victim. The slave gasped, then sobbed and whimpered helplessly. He did not dare to scream, yet he could not suppress the quiet, soft noises of pain that were constantly escaping him now. Although the intruding fingers repeatedly hit on his sweet spot and even lingered to rub and massage it, his Elfhood did not stir. The pain was just too great for any stimulation to succeed in causing arousal.

After a few more harsh thrusts, the fingers were withdrawn, then returned with a third finger, then a fourth. Legolas whimpered constantly now. His master seemed not to mind, though, which was gracious, since otherwise it would have earned the slave more punishment. Yet obviously it was enough for him that the Elf at least managed to suppress his screams.

Finally, the fingers were withdrawn. Aragorn stepped back from his quivering victim and went back to the bed. He took the big new taer cant aniron(1) and stepped back and around in front of his slave so his victim could see what he was holding.

“Now,” he said, “I will fill you with this pleasure staff and have you suffer wearing it while I continue to work on you. Only later, when I sheathe myself in you at last, I will take it out again. This will be your second punishment tonight. Do you agree that you deserve it?”

Legolas shivered. He stared in terror at the staff. He had no idea how it could ever fit within him. He gave his tormentor before him a hurt and betrayed look, nearly incredulous. He gathered his strength, trying to give the expected answer so he would not be punished even more, yet he could hardly manage to speak.

“Answer!” Aragorn bellowed. “Do you agree that you deserve this? Answer or you'll feel the paddle again before the staff fills you!” His voice was sharp and stinging.

Legolas swallowed again.

“I..” he began hoarsely, then he finally managed to get out: “I deserve the punishment you wish to give me, master. I...”

He could not continue. He could not say it! 'Please, Estel, no...' flickered through his mind, but Estel as he knew him was not there.

“Do you thank me for it?” Aragorn asked. “Do you beg me to be graced with it, now?”

Legolas stared at him in terror. He could not. He simply couldn't. He could not bring himself to beg for this new torture. The staff was just too thick, and coated with the burning irritant... he could not do it! He trembled, tossing his head helplessly, mute in fear.

Aragorn slapped him hard into the face, twice.

“Beg for it!” he commanded. “Ask me to give you this just punishment, and thank me for my judgment, or I will whip your feet!”

This threat made Legolas find his voice again. Walking a full day tomorrow on hurting, swollen feet sore from a thorough whipping? He could not afford this.

Hoarsely and with great effort he managed to get out: “Thank you, master, for this just and thorough punishment. I'll.. I'll beg you to be graced with it, now.”

His voice died in a muffled sob. Tears ran unchecked down his cheeks, and he fought to keep from sobbing more loudly.

Aragorn nodded gravely. “And so you shall,” he said solemnly. “Try to keep silent through this, or I will have to gag you. And brace yourself, because this will hurt.”

And with that he stepped back behind his slave, coated the staff with a mixture of irritant and normal oil, and started to insert it. He could not push it inside all at once; the thing was just too thick, nearly twice the size of an erect male member like his own, and he could not risk tearing the flesh since there was simply no time for Legolas to heal before tomorrow.

So he worked slowly and carefully, bit by bit, giving the tormented passage the time it needed to adjust and slowly moving the hideously thick pleasure staff in and out again, using a generous amount of oil together with the irritant. Although he had stretched the passage wide with his fingers already before he even started it took him some time until he could finally get the staff completely in. When he was done he used some long leather straps to fix it in its place, tying the straps around both of his slave's thighs and his stomach.


Legolas could not keep silent anymore. He screamed as the thick pleasure staff entered him and stretched his passage wide, and again as it was worked deeper. Finally he stopped screaming, simply because he had not enough air. He had a hard time breathing under the incredible pain and was nearly choking.

He did not bother to try and suppress his mutterings of pain again; it was too late, he had earned the threatened new punishment anyway, and he could simply not hold himself back anymore. His mind was in a haze and he was only half-conscious now. He had no idea what was really happening around him anymore, he was just aware of his tormentor's grip and of the anguish of his hurting passage. Whimpering and sobbing, he trembled under his tormentor's touch and tried helplessly to get away, without success or hope.

He was barely aware of his master coming back to stand in front of him again.

“You did well, Little Leaf,” Aragorn said. Darkly and coldly he continued: “However, you defied my orders again and screamed. So as I told you before, I will have to let you taste the paddle again. And since you seem incapable of keeping quiet, I am going to gag you now before I continue to work on you. We do not wish to scare the house with all the noise you make! Although later this night I may find another way to muffle your noise and to make good use of your sweet mouth!”

He walked to the bed, selected a gag and went back to his slave. “Open up!” he commanded harshly.

Sobbing, barely aware of his surroundings anymore, the slave obeyed. Yet instead of the gag, first he found his mouth caught in a searing kiss, and entered by a demanding and exploring tongue. Aragorn tasted him thoroughly, then he let him go and brought his mouth directly to his ear.

“Shhh, bear with me,” he whispered barely audibly, “just a bit more! It won't be long now!” He was not sure if Legolas really understood his words; the slave did not react and did not cease his soft, helpless whimper. At least, the whimpering was enough to cover his quiet reassurance from any ears outside the windows that might listen.

He let go of his victim and stepped back. “Now! Open up,” he repeated his command. “I have not the whole night to wait for you!”

Obediently, the slave opened his mouth, and he inserted the gag and fixed it behind his victim's head. The soft whimper ceased. Aragorn gave a satisfied nod.

“Now I can work on you in peace,” he said darkly and grimly, “and it is a good thing, too, because I have much more in store for you, tonight! First you will taste the paddle again, then I'll do your nipples, as promised; then I might like to try some needles and a bit of candle wax. In any case, this night is far from over, so I suggest you brace yourself!”

He walked back to the bed and fetched the paddle again. Slipping back behind the slave, he said dangerously: “I promised you three more blows with the paddle if you screamed. I'll start with them! Of course, I can't apply them to your ass, since now you are filled with the pleasure staff. So I'll do your thighs instead. And since there are two of those, I'll make this four. Too bad you cannot count anymore, now!”

And he let the first blow fall, then the second. The slave jerked desperately and gave a muffled sob, but there wasn't much to hear due to the gag. The third and fourth blow elicited a similar reaction.

In the quiet, muffled noise, Aragorn could hear barely audibly steps from outside the windows, moving away. He listened intently, poised for a trap. But there wasn't any other noise; and while he could not be entirely sure, his acute and honed instincts told him that now, finally, they were alone. All listeners were gone.

He threw the paddle away and stood in front of his slave again. Carefully he reached around the suspended body and hugged his tortured victim close, nuzzling his chest, then tiptoed to kiss the tear-streaked face.

“You did well, Little Leaf,” he said quietly, “You have been very brave! I am very proud of you! Don't worry, they are gone, we can go much slower now. There is not that much left for you to bear tonight, the worst is over. Be brave for me a short while more, only a bit. I promise you can bear this!”

While he spoke, he carefully caressed the sweating, trembling body under his hands, stroked the sides, the chest, caressed and teased the nipples, then tiptoed again to kiss the lips of the gagged mouth. The gag he had selected earlier was one Legolas knew and was usually even comfortable with, a small one that did not hamper breathing and that they used quite often when there was need to keep discreet on their travels. It left the lips slightly open, yet accessible, and he used this fact to lick over them, then close his own mouth carefully over the gagged one of his slave.

Then he moved slowly down to lick along his slave's neck, down his chest, finally to kiss and caress his nipples.

Finally he stepped back but did not yet let the sides of his slave's body go.

Hoarsely he whispered: “There are a few more things I wish to do to you tonight. But it is nothing that you cannot bear. I know that you can do this! Trust me, Little Leaf, I will be more gentle with you from now on!”

He did not really knew if Legolas still heard him. The slave seemed nearly unconscious and in a kind of stupor. But he knew that he could not stop now, since he had voiced what he would do before, and he knew also that he was giddy with desire to do it. He was rock-hard by now, sweating with desire, and the muffled noises of pain of his victim, the quivering skin under his hands, the feeble, involuntary jerks and helpless attempts to flinch away from his touch, were intoxicating like the most potent drug.

It was not nearly as good as he had dreamed this night would be in the long weeks before, lonely in the wilderness; given a choice he would have gone much slower, and the harsh treatment had brought his slave far too close to losing consciousness already for his taste. But still he was burning with arousal and captured and exhilarated by every reaction, every little muffled whimper of his victim. His trousers were uncomfortably tight, and he could feel himself already leaking.

He raised his hands to the sweat-stricken face of his slave again and trailed with his fingers over the pointed ears in a tender caress, then he went back to the bed and selected ten of the long, slim needles and two of the nipple clamps. He did not choose the new ones Elrond had gifted them with recently, with the sharp, cruel teeth meant to injure, but the older and well worn ones with dull teeth that stung, but did not cause injury, and that he used quite often. Originally he had intended to use them together with the small, yet heavy weights made for this purpose, but he left those aside. He knew Legolas could not bear much more pain, and he had to be careful now not to go too far over the limit.

This was a kind of torture they had done before, though, and Legolas was used to it. Aragorn was sure he could take it, especially if it was done carefully and not too intensely.

Slowly, he went back to his suspended victim and stepped in front of him. He caressed and teased the nipples a bit more, then he very carefully closed the clamps first over the one, then the other.

His slave gave a small jerk, but otherwise did not react much. Aragorn closed his mouth over first one, then the other of the clamped tits and licked and teased them with his tongue. While he did that, he took one of the long needles and found a yet unmarred spot at the side of his slave. Pinching the skin a bit to have better access, he pierced the needle carefully through it, mindful not to pierce the flesh beneath the skin. Legolas whimpered a bit under the gag, yet did not even quiver harder. Carefully and slowly, Aragorn applied the other needles in the same way, five on each side.

Done, he ran his hands reverently over them and felt his victim tremble.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in awe. “You are so beautiful like this, melethron. I can not tell you what it does to me to see you so. I am hungry for you, I cannot get enough of you... bear with me, just a bit more! I will release you soon. There are just two more things I wish to do to you before I taste your mouth again and fill you with my essence.... Just two more, my beautiful Little Leaf. You can do this, melethron, be brave for me!”

He licked over the hurting, clamped nipples again, then moved to the pierced skin of his slave's sides to lick the small trickle of blood from them. When his head came up again, he took the face of his victim into his hands and looked at him, carefully judging his state.

“I'll do your nipples now,” he explained breathlessly, “Don't worry, it's only five blows to each. They won't be harsh!”

He tiptoed and placed a soft kiss to the gagged mouth again. “Be brave for me!”

With that, he went back to the trunk and fetched another paddle, this one pliant and slender and made of leather. He placed himself a bit to the side of his slave and delivered the first blow to the left clamped nipple, not very forceful but nevertheless stinging.

They had done this kind of torture before; Legolas was used to it since it was one of Estel's favorites. Of course, normally, when his master subjected him to this, he was not already drowned in pain as he was now. When the first blow fell, Legolas hardly jerked anymore, nor did he react to the following four. He also hardly reacted to the torment of the other tit. It was too much. He could hardly separate one source of pain from another anymore, and was caught in a fog of suffering, barely aware of anything other than his world of anguish.

Dimly, he could still hear his master's voice, his soothing tone, and while he hardly understood the words, this voice was all that still anchored him to consciousness.

Estel was there and wanted him to stay and bear with him; he wanted him to stay awake, so he tried to do it.


Aragorn watched him intently. He was very aware that his slave was at the very brink of what he could take, and was still clinging to consciousness only because he himself had ordered him to. It was exhilarating and nearly made him come on the spot. Yet there was more to come, and he wanted to spill himself in his slave's mouth, only a bit later, not now in his own trousers; so he took deep breaths and calmed himself down a bit. Even so, he could hardly wait anymore. But there were still a few things left to complete his plans.

Throwing the leather paddle away, he stroked and teased tenderly over the hurting, tormented nipples. Then he moved his hands up a bit and gathered the golden tresses of his slave within them.

Legolas' hair was not braided this night, and hung loosely down his chest, where Aragorn himself had placed it earlier to leave the slave's back bare for the whip. Now, he tucked the long, golden tresses carefully out of the way, over the shoulders of his slave and threaded them below the yoke to his victims back. Then he tiptoed again and placed another kiss to the gagged mouth.

“Time to get the candle!” he said. “Don't worry, melethron. I won't burn you with the flame tonight. It's just a little hot wax to adorn you!”

Giving the face of his slave a last caress, he let him go and went to fetch one of the big candles. Coming back, he caressed the pierced sides of his slave, then the chest and at last the clamped nipples with his free hand. Softly and reverently he murmured: “I had planned to do your groin with the wax, too, tonight, to coat you nicely so I could then lick you and soothe you with my tongue. But I won't do that now; you are too weak already. We'll save that for another time.”

Idly toying with one of the hurting, clamped nipples, he continued: “So it's just your nipples I will do tonight, and perhaps a bit more of your skin. I love it when you wear these little pearls of cooled wax for me! They look like jewels on your skin, adorning you for me to admire and relish.”

And with that he raised the candle and let the first drops of the hot, stinging wax fall on the unprotected, already hurting tits.

Legolas jerked and tossed a bit as the first hot, burning drops fell on his sensitive tits, searing and stinging, causing lingering pain. He whimpered again, his soft sounds muffled by the gag. The new pain stung and burned, and he shivered again and tossed his head a bit, yet he was too dazed and too deeply caught within his world of anguish already to try to get away or struggle against his bonds. He was only semi-conscious now; he did not care much what was done to him anymore, and merely endured each new touch and hurt as it was given. The soft murmuring voice of his master was the only thing that anchored him and kept him from falling into unconsciousness or from losing himself.

A soft, cool mouth closed over his tormented tit, clamps, burns and all. Silken lips and a soft, wet tongue licked over the hurting flesh, soothing and cooling; then teeth gently bit down on the clamp, increasing the pressure and he jerked again. A callused hand at his hurting back held him in place, then the pressure lessened again and the hand at his back petted him tenderly.

“Just a bit more, Little Leaf,” the voice of his master said, “just a few drops more. It won't be long now!”

The procedure was repeated with the other tit, then a few more drops fell to the first again, until both his nipples were stinging and completely coated with the hot, searing wax. Then there were more drops falling to his breast, and finally the candle moved to his sides and more drops of hot wax were applied to the small wounds in his skin made by the piercing needles. He whimpered at the stinging sensation, at the heat of the flame uncomfortably close to his vulnerable skin, touching a few times but never long enough to really burn him. It was a small ache, compared to the white hot burning of his hurting ass, his thighs and most of all, his passage, yet ache it was, and he trembled under his tormentor's touches.

Finally Aragorn set the candle away and came back to soothe all the places he had coated with the hot wax with his tongue again. He sucked and licked at the aggravated nipples, yet did not nibble at them anymore. One of his hands dropped to the limp Elfhood of his slave and fondled gently, yet could not make it stir.
Small wonder; Legolas was in far too much pain to get aroused. Still, he regretted that he had not more time to try it; normally, he would have relished trying to stimulate the limp member of his Elf at this point and see if he could not provoke a reaction in spite of the great level of pain.

But he could not do that now. It was time to put an end to this night of torment; It was close to midnight now, and there were not that many hours left until morning. And Legolas needed every single one of them to rest and heal.

Sighing, he let go of the limp member and reached up to the restraints that held his slave suspended. He stepped directly under him and held him close with one arm while his other hand fumbled to open one of the restraints; then, catching the falling body gently and placing the freed arm over his shoulder, he repeated the procedure with the other restraint. He caught Legolas' limp, unresisting body in his arms and carried him a bit away from the yoke, then he set him gently down on the ground. Legolas' knees gave in, and he had to catch his Elf again.
Carefully, he lowered him until he was kneeling and held him upright in this position, taking his arms and placing them firmly on his own hips. He made it clear through his very movements that he wanted his slave to keep them there.

“Shh,” he told his semi-conscious slave, “don't let go! Hold on a little more. Kneel for me, Little Leaf. Stay upright and kneel for me!”

Somehow, his voice and his command seemed to reach the slave's muddled mind, because he stayed obediently upright, clutching himself to his master's hips and using the belt on Aragorn's hips as leverage. Aragorn buried his own hands within the golden tresses of his slave, bowed down and placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“I'm going to ungag you now, Little Leaf,” he said, “for I wish to use your mouth to take my pleasure. You will serve me well with your sweet tongue, will you not?”

Quickly he undid the gag, removed it from his slave's mouth and threw it away. Freed, Legolas gave a soft, desolate, nearly inaudible sobbing. Aragorn breathed hard. The soft sound nearly drove him mad. Hastily, he freed his rock-hard erection. His cock was so hard it hurt. Forcing himself to refrain from thrusting mindlessly, he shoved it gently, but firmly into his slave's mouth, holding the Elf's head in place with his other hand firmly buried in Legolas' hair.

“Now, Little Leaf,” he growled breathlessly, “lick it! Suck! Let me feel your sweet, talented tongue!”

The wet, hot cavern closed around him like a sheath, the great amount of spit caused by the gag working as lubrication, and he had to harshly restrain himself from thrusting recklessly so as not to cut off his slave's air and suffocate him. Even so, having him like this, on his knees, quivering in pain and hardly aware of anything but his own anguish anymore, but still obediently opening up to take his master's eager cock into his mouth -- it was intoxicating and pure bliss!

Aragorn gasped as the hot mouth closed around him. For a moment his slave did not seem to understand what was expected of him. Then training ingrained in eighty years of enforced sexual service to different masters kicked in, and Legolas' tongue began to swirl and lick around the invading cock, cheeks closing in a sucking motion, and Aragorn gasped again, then nearly shouted in pleasure. Slowly at first, then ever faster, he began to thrust into the welcoming cavern, mindful not to abandon every restraint, yet hardly capable of holding himself back any longer.

Originally, he had planed to take his slave's mouth while Legolas was still tied to the yoke, forcing his victim to struggle to stay upright while he pleasured him. But Legolas was already too weak for that, and even so it was completely exhilarating. Never before had he taken his Elf to this level of pain, and while he originally had not planned to do it that way, but to give his victim plenty of time to adjust and hold and soothe him through the worst of it, he had dreamed of getting him to this point for years. Some part of him now wished to make it last, to hold his victim in this state of anguish and torment as long as he could, yet he could not do that now. Legolas did not have a week or two to recover from this. So he simply savored the moment as it was, and thrust with harshly controlled eagerness into the willing mouth.

It took a lot of discipline to keep from just rutting away with abandon, but somehow he managed. Even so, it took just a few thrusts for him to come, and he climaxed, spilling himself in his slave's mouth, shouting his name.
Gasping, clutching the shoulders of his kneeling partner for support, he had trouble to keep himself upright. He could feel Legolas swallow the cum as he was trained to do and carefully withdrew himself. He sank down to his knees before his Elf and took Legolas face into his hands. Taking his partners mouth in a deep kiss, he tasted his own essence.

Then he gathered the limp, unresisting body in his arms and kissed a pointed ear.

“You have done well, melethron,” he crooned, “you have been marvelous! Don't worry, it is done. Your punishment is over! Just let me get my breath back for a moment, then I'll take that taer cant(2) out of you and fill you with some soothing balm, before I sheathe myself in you a second time. Then you may rest and heal!”

While he spoke, his hands were already working, taking off the clamps, then the needles, and setting them away. He would collect them later. Then he loosened the straps that held the pleasure staff in place and undid them. Carefully, he started to work the big thing out again. The Elf in his arms jerked as the tucks and pulls at the staff impaling him aggravated his overstretched, inflamed passage all anew, but his movements were feeble. Carefully, Aragorn worked the big thing out, murmuring soothing words and holding the trembling body tightly. Finally he had it out and set the thing aside. Petting the slaves back and head, he let him rest a moment, before he leaned forward and untied first one ankle, then the other from the long wooden staff that held Legolas' legs apart. Finally, he carefully gathered his stricken Elf within his arms, stood up and carried him over to the broad bed. He laid him down on his stomach at the side not occupied by the instruments of torture he had laid out early in the evening ready to use, or thrown back after usage, and took up another vial. Swiftly, he uncorked it and coated his fingers, and then he worked the soothing balm deeply into his slave's inflamed passage.

The slave jerked and whimpered at the new intrusion, but soon the calming effect of the balm soothed the burning flesh, and the pain receded a bit. Legolas breathing eased somewhat, yet he was too far gone already to stop whimpering immediately. His body took some time to react, or process the things happening to him, by now.

Aragorn worked quickly, yet thoroughly. He had to do that first; the balm would take some time to neutralize the last traces of the irritant, and he had no wish to hurt himself when he buried his cock within his Elf later this night. Done, he withdrew his hand and gently petted the hurting back. “Now just wait here for me; I'll be only a moment,” he said. “I'll just tidy up a bit, then I'll join you again.”

Pulling out the big, hideous pleasure staff as well as massaging the hurting passage of his victim had renewed his arousal, and feeling the limp, pliant body under his hands, too deeply caught in the inflicted pain to even move or try to escape further torment, hearing the helpless whimpering, seeing the feeble movements, the haze of anguish of his slave had him already hardening again.

Now he worked quickly, gathering the paddles, the whip and the irritant as well as the unused toys from the bed and depositing them unceremoniously back into the trunk, untying the rope from the ring in the wall, unwinding it and lowering the heavy yoke to the ground, separating the rope from the yoke again and placing both back into the trunk, together with the wooden staff and all the leather straps. The other toys he had used on his slave tonight, the pleasure staff, clamps and needles, he deposited in a waiting bucket filled with a bit of water and placed both in front of the door. Let Elrond's servants deal with those and tell the master of the house exactly what they found! Hopefully, it would spare Elrond the trouble to ask questions in the morning.

Finally, he was done. He bolted the door again, then snuffed all the candles save the one on the night stand, opened the windows and the shutters to let fresh air in, and closed the drapes. The whole procedure had taken only a few minutes.

Only now he undressed himself and went back to the bed again. He planned to savor the pliant body of his slave one more time tonight!

Legolas was still only semi-conscious, drifting, barely aware and caught in a deep fog of pain, albeit he was breathing somewhat easier now. Yet Aragorn could still hear a few whimpers and sobs. Aragorn got down on the bed and crawled close to his slave. Kneeling beside the prostrate body, he bent down to kiss the whipped shoulder blades, then he tucked the hair away and licked over the ears.

“Now, my beautiful little Leaf, I'll have you one more time this night,” he growled hoarsely. “I can hardly wait to sheathe myself in you while you are in this state. Of course, it will hurt! But you will feel wonderful quivering all around me!”

And he began slowly to caress the tormented body, stroking over the beaten ass, the thighs, then up the back. He knew that each of his caresses had to hurt immensely at this point, that each touch brought new pain, that burying himself in the aggravated passages would be nearly unbearable for his slave, yet all this only heightened his arousal all again and made him hard and needy. He felt his victim start to react to this new torment, felt his renewed trembling, the feeble jerks and doomed attempts to escape his touches, heard his increasing whimpers.

Nearly driven mad with desire by his victim's reactions, he took the Elf by his shoulders and pulled him up, forcing him back into a kneeling position. Then he leaned the pliant body against himself and sneaked his arms around him, pressing the hurting back against his chest.


Legolas gasped. He did not really realize what was happening and where he was anymore, that he was still in the chambers of his master and that it was Aragorn who held him; he only understood that there was a new torment to endure. His inflamed, aching buttocks were pressed against his tormentor's groin and stomach, the Adan's erection scraping against his hurting thighs. Instinctively he tried to jerk forward, but was held back by a harsh grip.

“Be still!” a voice commanded – he was hardly aware whose voice it was anymore, but assumed it was one of his masters - “Feel this and open up for me!”

Obediently, he tried to keep still, yet could not help trembling. His thighs were forced apart and pressed down on hard muscled legs, and he could not suppress another sob as his beaten, hurting flesh had to bear his weight. He whimpered anew and gave a small yelp. A harsh, callused hand closed over his mouth, and his master's voice growled into his ear: “Hush! Be silent! Don't force me to gag you again!”

The hand was removed and made its way down to his chest. Two hands closed over his muscled breast and held him in place; then a hot column of male flesh entered him in one, fast thrust, and his tormented buttocks were driven back against hard hips. White-hot pain exploded in his brain all over again, and he bit back a scream.

Estel, it had been Estel's voice he'd heard. Estel had ordered him to keep silent. He didn't know why it was important to his master that he did not scream, why Estel did not want him to voice his pain, but Estel wanted it from him, so he tried.

He could not help continuing his soft sobbing, though.

Callused hands closed over his tormented nipples, caressing them; then the intruder in his ass began to move and he was taken to a whole new level of pain again.

He had lost all sense of time and all true awareness of his surroundings. It seemed to him this new torment lasted for hours. In truth it took only minutes, but he did not knew that. The thrusts went on and on, hitting his gland, but he was too caught in anguish to feel arousal at the stimulation. The pain was excruciating, and he tried to escape, to flee his body, to tear himself away from this hurting shell and perhaps leave it for good.

Yet as he already thought that he left it behind, closing himself off and losing feelings, there was a blue, cold light that blocked his path and caught him like a moth caught by the flame. A harsh and cruel voice chanted freezing words, and he could not go further. He was driven back, back to his hurting hroa(3), and found himself aware of his body again, and the thrusting continued.

In his anguish, he shouted to the one person he trusted to protect him, to keep him safe, to hold him when it got too bad: “Estel! Please...”

Then, suddenly, the thrusting stopped and he was filled with warm fluid; the pressure in his passage lessened, and he heard his master's – Estel's – voice shouting his name. “Legolas!”

He gasped and let himself fall back, and was caught in strong, well known arms.
“Legolas,” Aragorn crooned into his ear, “Legolas! Oh, my beautiful, marvelous, wonderful, exquisite slave!”

It was too much. He could not understand the words, or what was happening. He could just understand the tone, and the voice, and it was excited. It told him one thing: Aragorn was pleased. Estel was content with him.

Gasping, yet reassured by this knowledge, Legolas' muddled mind finally gave in to the demands of his exhausted body and lost its grip on his consciousness.


Aragorn felt the body in his arms go limp and quickly checked his gaze. He discovered his Elf had finally lost consciousness and sighed. He was hardly surprised, and in truth he had expected it much sooner. At least Legolas had managed to stay conscious for him until his master reached completion, and that was a marvel in itself. He felt overwhelmed by gratitude and a fierce possessiveness of his wonder of a slave.

Placing a tender kiss on the golden head he quietly whispered: “Wonderful Little Leaf! You have been so very brave for me tonight! I am so proud to have you!”

He was very aware that Legolas could not hear him and had briefly escaped his hurting body and his anguish. Collapsing, he let them both sink down on the mattress, draping himself over the prostrate, limp body under him, still joined. He felt an overwhelming urge to just stay there, give in to exhaustion and fall asleep, and for a moment he indulged. But Legolas would not heal enough by morning if he did not see to his injuries first, and there were a few more things to do before he could himself allow to give in to sleep.

So finally he forced himself to withdraw from the warm body still sheathing him and heaved himself up. He made it to the washstand, filled the bowl with a bit of water from the pitcher and brought it over to the bed. Then he took a clean cloth, dampened it and started to wash his slave carefully and thoroughly, taking special care to clean the places that bore the marks of his whip, the angry buttocks, the sticky cleft, the thighs and finally, turning the limp body around, the chest and the aggravated nipples. He even washed the sweaty, tear-streaked face. Finally done, he brought the bowl back to the washstand and washed himself before he emptied the water into the waiting bucket.

Then he went back to the bed, used the chamber-pot, and sat beside his victim. He took a vial with a healing balm from the nightstand and applied the substance carefully first to the nipples of his slave and to his sides, then he turned the Elf back to his stomach and worked it into the whip marks on his back, thighs and buttocks.

He did not bother to renew the soothing balm in Legolas' anus again, though. There was no substance with more potency of healing to a slave under the spell than the seed of his master, and he had just spilled himself within his Elf. His living essence was all that Legolas' body needed to speed up the healing. He would apply some of the soothing balm again in the morning.

Finally done, he set the vial aside, snuffed the last candle and collapsed into bed beside his Elf. Carefully, he nestled the limp body into his arms. He had taken him through a lot of pain tonight, more than ever before; but at least his Elf had survived, was still alive and breathing, and would stay so. From this he could recover. He would stay with him.

They had done it.


With this reassuring thought, he finally gave in to his complete exhaustion and drifted into sleep.

_________________ o _______________

-- TBC --


Notes:

(1) taer cant aniron -- Sindarin, literally: straight shape (of) desire – a pleasure staff or Dildo. (I know, Tolkien would have been horrified!)

(2) taer cant – Sindarin: straight shape, short for taer cant aniron, straight shape of desire

(3) hroa is the Elvish word for body, the shell of the fea, the soul. Actually, both words are Quenya; I could not find the Sindarin equivalents.

Reply to reviewers:

Ertia: Thank you, I'm glad to hear it was worth the waiting! As for your request of more, well, here it is. We aim to please!

Dark Dreamer: Thank you! As for the begging: it is part of the punishment. And there is more of it in this chapter.

Nikkiling: Hi, again, and thank you for reviewing my Highlander-Story, too! As for Aragorn: Aragorn, in this story, is a sadist. As much as he cares for Legolas, the Elf is still his slave, and he loves to have his slave at his mercy. Like now. I know it is hard to like him while he is acting on his needs, but well... at least, this way Legolas will stay alive. Barely.
Or that is Aragorn's excuse, at least...

Naira: I am afraid he will continue to hit him. But I can appreciate the sentiment, here!

Susan: Thank you for your reviews and the offer, but the place of Betareader is already taken by the most amazing Surreysmum, who took it upon herself to polish this story and to teach me the difference between writing German in English words and writing English. She saved me from a few seriously embarrassing errors, too. But maybe I can take you up on your generous offer another time! As for weird toys, well, there are a few in this chapter. About your request to learn more about the spell and Elvish anatomy, I am afraid there will not be much more. I may get into how the spell works and how it was originally cast in some future sequence, but mostly it is a metaphysical thing. Although there is a strong physical part to it, too, I suppose... Hmm. Maybe I will get into it. Later.

Thank you all again for your reviews, you are really encouraging me!
Greetings,

Aislynn