Something Special, Something Sacred

Imladris, Third Age 2033

The playroom door was propped open, as it had been these past three months. The large armoire had been hauled from the small chamber and placed in front of the oaken door. A weapons rack that had been requisitioned from the armory and converted to hold a variety of floggers, canes, and whips was now propped against the wall beside the bed. Although the larger implements such as the Fëanorian Cross and the wall shackles still remained in the playroom and were diligently cleaned by Glorfindel once a week, they were hardly ever used. Instead, the bed itself where the two Elves had once shared so many tender nights of gentle lovemaking had become the focus of their more athletic nightly activities.

Outside of their rooms, Erestor and Glorfindel maintained a discreet working relationship. Glorfindel kept his promise and no longer treated Erestor with anything more than casual respect when they were in the presence of others. This change in attitude was most noticed by Elrond, who whispered a tactful "thank you" to Erestor as they passed in the hallway one morning, and then said no more on the subject to either.

Superficial appearances notwithstanding, though, very little had truly changed between the two lovers. Glorfindel had continued to desire greater and greater levels of pain in order to achieve arousal or orgasm. His back and buttocks were a criss-crossed mass of bruises, welts, and cuts in various stages of healing. The Elda continued to insist that the hurts Erestor inflicted were merely temporary discomforts and he would not hesitate to stop the session if he ever felt seriously pained. He swore to Erestor that being able to focus on the physical trials that Erestor put him through made him more able to forget the more mundane stresses of his position.

Erestor was not completely convinced, but would nevertheless -- at Glorfindel's insistence -- spend time every night physically taking out his daily frustrations on his lover's backside, trusting as best he could that Glorfindel would stop him if he pushed too far. Those frustrations had increasingly included Glorfindel himself, as Erestor was continually bewildered that Glorfindel was truly able to gain enjoyment and release given the intensity of the beatings and other... abuse was the only word that the Noldo felt was adequate. True, Erestor had never broken a bone in Glorfindel's body or made any more than superficial cuts, but the blond's back bore a disturbing pattern of scars that, while once beautiful to Erestor, were now nothing more than a constant source of irritation to him.

Today had been particularly trying for them both, and Glorfindel had all but begged Erestor not to hold anything back. Erestor had reluctantly agreed, and had brought out a long ago gift from Celeborn. The cane was about a meter long, as thick as Erestor's first two fingers, and made from the core of a fallen mallorn. It was mainly decorative, as few people would feel comfortable being struck with such a sturdy implement.

"I have never used this before," he explained to Glorfindel, "so I want you to seriously think about if you want me to stop and tell me if this is too much." When Glorfindel nodded agreement and crawled onto all fours, Erestor carefully struck the raised buttocks with the mallorn cane.

Glorfindel lurched forward with the force of the blow, gasping in shock and pain. Erestor waited to see if Glorfindel would stop him, but when the Elda recovered, the only thing he said was, "More, Sir!"

Erestor was surprised, but he swung again with a little more force. Again, Glorfindel cried out from the pain, but leaned back to meet the second blow Erestor dealt. Erestor let the cane fall against Glorfindel's backside again and again, slowly working up to about half strength. He could see Glorfindel's sac tighten between his legs and knew how the Elda's erection must be straining. Somehow, that knowledge -- that Glorfindel could draw so much pleasure while Erestor could not -- infuriated the Noldo. He drew the cane back and let it fly almost full-force across Glorfindel's buttocks.

Glorfindel screamed, and Erestor instantly regretted his outburst of anger. He could see the bruise already beginning under the flare of red flesh. A fine sheen of sweat broke out along Glorfindel's back, and he gasped for breath. Erestor bit down on his apology. "Do you want me to stop?" he said instead. "Tell me to stop."

"Ai, Elbereth! More, Sir! Please!" Glorfindel panted. His arousal had not lessened in the least, and his voice was laced with more passion and feeling than Erestor had heard in weeks.

Erestor was dumbstruck. He had seen a staff made of the same material as this cane used in combat training in Lórien. Haldir had been demonstrating its effectiveness, and had brought the staff viciously down upon the arm of a practice dummy carved from a beech tree. The mallorn staff shattered the wooden arm without resistance. Glorfindel had not only accepted the strike with little more damage than a bruise, but was eagerly begging for more. True, Haldir's blow had been more savage than Erestor's, but only just.

"Please, Sir!" Glorfindel whined again.

Erestor staggered. His voice was shaky, but he croaked out, "Only once more tonight, pen-valthen. I do not want to spoil you." His hands trembled as he lifted the cane, but he willed them to steady as he focused on the abused skin of Glorfindel's buttocks. Only when he was certain that he would not miss his mark did Erestor, with tears beginning to cloud his vision, swing the cane like a sword delivering a deathblow. (golden one)

Glorfindel lurched forward, his arms collapsing under him from the force of the strike. Erestor could hear him sobbing into the bedclothes, could see the new wound blossoming along the line of impact. His hands went suddenly numb, and the cane clattered to the floor. Was this what it had come to finally? He reached out and gingerly slid his fingertips along the heated flesh of Glorfindel's backside, wincing when the Elda flinched away from the touch. "Glorfindel?" he asked, his voice gentle and low.

The sobbing eased, and Glorfindel finally lifted his head. Tear tracks stained his face, but his eyes remained bright, and his expression full of ecstasy. "Aye, Sir," he responded breathily. "Please, Sir, I want you inside me. I need it, Sir! Split me open!"

Erestor looked again at the mass of red and purple that was his lover's tortured buttocks. The sight suddenly repulsed him, and he wanted nothing more than to tell Glorfindel no. The mere thought of pressing himself between those discolored cheeks was enough to kill any trace of arousal that still remained in his body. Glorfindel continued to look at him pleadingly, though, his need coloring his face and burning in his eyes. Erestor had always known that he could deny Glorfindel nothing, and no matter what he felt at that moment, that remained true.

"On your back," he barked. He could not look at the wounds he inflicted any longer if he intended to do anything else. His heart broke as he watched Glorfindel struggle to roll over, knowing how much pain the simple movement must have been causing his lover. Erestor took the flask of oil from the night table, and then knelt on the bed. He spread Glorfindel's legs and lifted them onto his shoulders. The position would pull the pained skin tight, but it did at least shift Glorfindel's weight onto his back, which gave Erestor some comfort.

He poured a generous amount of the viscous lubricant and took a deep breath, swiftly inserting two fingers. Glorfindel mewed, his hands clenching the sheets beneath him. Erestor coated the hot passage liberally before withdrawing his fingers and adding more oil. He returned to his lover's entrance, using three fingers inside him. Erestor watched Glorfindel's body and face intently, his dark eyes not showing the fear that choked him. Instead, he slid a fourth finger in to join the first three. Glorfindel winced, a strangled moan coming from his parted lips. Erestor reflected as he worked his lover's body, remembering sadly a time when he would have found the sight of Glorfindel sprawled and open to him as breathtaking. But, as he brought his fingers together and added his thumb, it was only disturbing.

Glorfindel writhed on his hand, mumbling incoherent words, his tone pleading as he begged to be filled. Erestor gazed upon Glorfindel's erection, blood-filled, straining and throbbing with every beat of the blond's rapid heart. He dripped more oil over his partially inserted hand, and then *pushed*. The muscle quivered and spasmed as it was stretched beyond anything it had endured at the hands of the dark Elf, and Glorfindel cried out, his breath ragged as Erestor steadily pressed forward.

Erestor's own heart pounded in his ears. He had never performed this act on another, though he had seen others do it. This did not remove the trepidation he felt, though, as he continued to drive his hand into his lover's backside.

The muscle gave way under the pressure Erestor placed on it, and he was able to move beyond the widest part of his hand. Glorfindel arched on the bed, his azure eyes wild as his wish was granted. "You wanted to be split open, pen-vara," Erestor panted, continuing to impale Glorfindel further and drawing his hand into a fist within the tight passage. "I have done as you asked," he finished, his voice breaking on a sob as he looked upon the sexual beast his golden warrior had become.

"Yes, Sir!" Glorfindel cried, thrusting himself down further on the hand that possessed him. "More!"

Glorfindel's body had already accepted Erestor's hand and a portion of his forearm. "Glorfindel," he said, his voice tight. "If I go further I will *harm* you -- and I cannot do that! No matter how much I love you, I cannot cause you damage!"

"Erestor, more!" the golden Elf replied, and Erestor's eyes went wide. Gone was the submissive and his master -- this was now Glorfindel and Erestor.

Erestor shook his head. "Please, Glorfindel, do not ask again."

"Please! I need more!"

Anger exploded inside Erestor, and all logical thought was quickly swept from the Noldo's mind. He moved over Glorfindel's bent body, his hand still deeply embedded inside, and grasped the Elda's throat with his stronger left hand. He squeezed as he pushed further into the Elf's body, his eyes spilling tears as he gaze down into the unseeing eyes. "Why? Why, Glorfindel?" he shouted. "Tell me to stop! Tell me I am hurting you! Touch my arm! Do something -- anything, but make me STOP!" Erestor begged, squeezing harder.

There was no response and Erestor rested his head against Glorfindel's chest, sobbing as he continued to torture his beloved. As he clenched his hand tighter, he felt the passage tremble around his hand and hot fluid spray his belly.

"I cannot do this anymore," he whispered harshly, raising his head. "I cannot do these things to you."

The room was deathly quiet, except for the occasional sniffle from the dark Elf hovering above the light Elf. Glorfindel's long legs fell to the bed limply, and Erestor snatched his hand from the still figure's throat. The Elda's eyes were open and glassy, but there was no movement from him -- not even the rising and falling of his chest to tell Erestor his lover still lived.

"Glorfindel?" he called, his voice small in the large, silent chamber. "Melethen?" Still no movement.

Erestor pulled his hand from Glorfindel's body and sat back on his heels, looking at his red-tinged hand and arm and back to the motionless Elf. Erestor's stomach contracted violently and he turned from the terrifying sight, emptying the contents of his stomach on the floor.

*****

Elrond opened his door and gasped.

Erestor stood in the dark hall, his hair wild, his eyes red and his face gaunt and pale. The Councilor had lost much weight over the stressful months, but standing in only a thin dressing gown, his weight loss was even more apparent.

His right hand, though, was streaked with what looked like oil and blood.

"Erestor?"

Those bottomless dark eyes, full of horror and anguish, filled with tears again. "You must come, Elrond," the Noldo said, ending on a sob. "Glorfindel is dead."

TBC...