Something Special, Something Sacred

Imladris, Third Age 2032

"Position Eleven."

Glorfindel gracefully fell to his knees, spreading his thighs wide and resting back on his heels. His hands remained laced at the back of his neck, his chest pushed forward and his erection prominently displayed, glistening with its need.

Over two months had flown by for Glorfindel since starting this new aspect of their intimate lives. Two months of many new experiences, but Erestor had continued to assure him there was so much more to learn. He had been diligent in his studies, throwing himself into the lessons Erestor gave him as he had in his warrior training Ages ago.

His lover came to stand before him, wearing only his black trousers. This had become Erestor's standard dress for these sessions. Glorfindel kept his eyes trained on the floor, his head lowered in respect. His eyes closed when the gentle touch of Erestor's hand on his head, and he sighed quietly. Erestor had awoken in him a need and a burning desire to please that he had never known existed within him.

He was gripped harshly by his hair, Erestor's hand knotting into the carefully pinned locks. The Noldo's other hand slipped inside his trousers in a way that Glorfindel was accustomed to seeing. A moment later, Erestor's firm arousal was pulled from the folds of thick fabric and thrust before his face. The Elda immediately opened his mouth to take in his lover's shaft, relaxing his jaw and throat as the dark Elf set a steady thrusting rhythm.

Glorfindel lost himself in the act of pleasuring his lover. The taste of Erestor filled his senses; his eyes glazed over and he swallowed when the Noldo slowly slid his ample length into the tight, welcoming warmth of Glorfindel's throat. The hand in his hair tightened, forcing his head further back and opening his throat for further invasion. Glorfindel knew Erestor was watching him, knew that the dark, bottomless eyes were gauging how long he could remain buried to the hilt in the blond's mouth before it became necessary for Glorfindel to breathe.

After a few long moments, Glorfindel's throat began to feel swollen and far too full, his lungs hurt from holding his breath. He still did not raise his eyes, though, knowing if he did there would be some new form of punishment to be doled out. The worst punishment, in Glorfindel's mind, was the look of disappointment in Erestor's eyes when he failed at a task. His heart burned with the need to please the dark beauty. Glorfindel pushed aside the urge to push or pull away from Erestor, ignored the pressure building in his chest.

Erestor withdrew himself, giving Glorfindel a moment to exhale and inhale once more before resuming his steady thrusts. The cock that laid claim to his mouth, that caused his jaw to ache, swelled and became harder, signaling the Noldo's impending release. Glorfindel readied himself to swallow his lover's essence, but Erestor withdrew completely and chuckled.

"I am not ready, pen- vara, though it is awfully tempting."

Glorfindel shuddered at the painful pleasure Erestor's thumb caused as it caressed his swollen, bruised bottom lip. "No, the cross, tonight, I think," Erestor continued. The Elda 's eyes briefly fell on the large device in the corner of the playroom -- disconcertingly called the Fëanorian Cross -- before dropping back to the floor. Glorfindel never learned if Fëanor actually created the Cross or indeed ever owned one, but that was the name given to the wooden contraption that resembled nothing so much as a huge Westron 'X'.

He stood gracefully, instinctively assuming Position Two by putting his hands by his side. He turned on his heel, and marched to the Cross. When he reached his destination, the Elda turned again, standing just in front of and beside the device, his back to the Cross. His hands moved to clasp the back of his neck, just above the collar. He waited there in Position One while his eyes tracked Erestor's motion to the equipment closet.

Erestor's elaborate system of organization meant that the Noldo did not have to search long for what he wanted. Glorfindel quickly averted his eyes, focusing on a point between his feet, when Erestor turned from the wardrobe, carrying something in his hands. Cool fingers -- always cool, Glorfindel thought -- touched one of his nipples, teasing it expertly into a tight, painful peak of longing. Through blurred vision, Glorfindel watched Erestor fasten a small clip to the sensitive flesh. He did not make a sound, willing his breathing to remain even as Erestor adjusted the tension of the clamp. Erestor gave the same treatment to Glorfindel's other nipple, adjusting the clamp until it was almost purely painful. Then the Noldo reached into his trouser pocket and held up two teardrop shaped items.

Weights were added to the clamps, pulling at his pinched, tender skin. Glorfindel winced slightly, groaning as the second weight was attached. Erestor's bottomless eyes regarded him coolly. "Turn around and move to Position Four."

Glorfindel turned to face the Cross and moved until his stomach touched the place where the 'X' met. He stretched his arms gracefully along the upper portion and shifted his stance so that his ankles were even with the lower half. Leather restraints were fastened about his extremities, binding him to the device. His chest and groin were free from any friction, which he saw as both a blessing and curse. Glorfindel's painfully pinched nipples were spared further stimulation, but his groin was also free of any friction.

The room was still; Glorfindel did not know if Erestor stood right behind him or if the Councilor had left the room. It wasn't until he felt the kiss of the flogger against his back that he could say for certain. He closed his eyes against the pain, resisting the urge to tense. A second strike caught him across the thighs, too quickly. Glorfindel realized with a start that Erestor was holding *two* floggers. The Noldo paused briefly, as if to give him a moment to absorb this, then moved with no further preamble into a flurry of blows from both hands.

As always, Erestor displayed masterful control with the implements. Glorfindel felt his skin warming and tingling under the barrage, but not breaking or even bruising. The firmest strikes fell across the fleshiest parts of his buttocks and thighs, leaving lines of stinging pain that faded just slowly enough for them to be savored. And every contact shook the weights attached to his nipples, until they ached more from arousal than from the pressure.

The pattern of the floggers became a steady rhythm, a percussive tune being played with Glorfindel as the instrument. The Elda let his head sag, allowing the rhythm to wash over him. His entire body thrummed with the sound; even his grunts and gasps fell into time with the cadence. Abruptly, the pace doubled, and Glorfindel threw his head back at the amplified sensations, his arousal twitching and weeping uncontrollably.

It had not been so very long ago that Glorfindel would have been appalled at the notion of being strapped down to *anything* and willingly allowing his dear lover to inflict varying levels of pain, even when balanced with equal levels of pleasure. Now he did not know how he had survived so long without that very thing. The pain was still, well, painful; it merely ceased to be most important thing in the same way that a musician's instrument is not as important as the song. In times like these, Glorfindel's mind began to drift, almost separate from his body. He was still aware of everything around him, and would certainly notice should Erestor strike him too firmly and accidentally harm him.

The whip suddenly fell silent, and all Glorfindel could hear was the frantic beating of his own heart. Again he began to wonder if Erestor had left the room, but he did not look; he could not bear to find himself looking into disappointed eyes. He almost flinched when he felt cool hands caress the welts that the flogger had created. The thought came to him again that this was what he was living for when he was in this room. To please Erestor was his only purpose, his only duty. Outside the playroom, in the "real world", there were responsibilities and necessities and patrols and reports. But here, there was only Erestor.

Glorfindel caught a glimpse of Erestor from the corner of his eye as the dark-haired Elf stood at the side of the Cross. "Out of necessity, I have made a few modifications to the initial design," the Noldo explained. "You see, there was not enough space in this room for me to include a table. So I had to improvise." As he spoke, Erestor slid his hand behind the Cross, at the middle where the two pieces intersected. He removed something that Glorfindel could not identify, and his body suddenly pitched forward as the device tipped from vertical to horizontal.

Erestor replaced the small metal piece he'd withdrawn, and the motion stopped. The weights attached to Glorfindel's nipples dangled freely, causing the Elda to groan at the extra pressure this caused. His arousal intensified from the increased stimulation. For another agonizingly long moment, there was nothing. The seconds passed, until Glorfindel was certain that *this* time, Erestor really had left the room. He strained to hear any sign of movement behind him, but the room was completely quiet.

He had focused on his hearing so much that when a thin, cool object was brushed across his sore buttocks, Glorfindel gasped in shock and tried to recoil as best he could. Erestor's deep chuckle behind him was enough to calm the Elda, though, and Glorfindel was able to relax. As long as Erestor was here, after all, the blond knew that he was safe.

Erestor was dragging the object across his rear; it felt like a wooden switch, but thicker and more uniform. The urge to turn his head and peer behind him was almost unbearable. The Noldo must have sensed it, because he chose that moment to explain, "This is called a cane, pen- vara. Ordinarily, I would begin with very tender taps to soften the skin, and only gradually work up to firmer strikes. However, I think we have taken care of that adequately."

Even with that much warning and time to brace, Glorfindel was still surprised by the first strike. The blow wasn't especially hard and the sting faded almost instantly, but for that moment, the feeling was something like a line of fire being etched across his backside. It was different than any other time he had been struck, more acute. He craved the next impact and closed his eyes, ready to savor the burning sting, which Erestor willingly gave.

Glorfindel's breathing was even and slow, his body pliant. He knew that he could withstand any abuse Erestor could give him so long as he remained calm. Each strike, placed in random areas on his buttocks and upper thighs, became progressively harder. Sharp, dissipating stings became constant throbs and Glorfindel lost his hold on that calm. Tears came to his eyes, his thighs tensing for each blow, and he panted with harsh, short breaths.

And still Erestor continued.

Tears flowed freely and he sobbed, flinching from each anticipated strike and he knew he would be unable to sit the next day. He tensed, ready for another blow, but it did not come. Gentle hands, caressing his untouched back, soothed his hurts. "Glorfindel," came the cool, dulcet tones of his lover's voice, cutting through the haze of pain and humiliation. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, shocking Glorfindel as Erestor stepped from the dominant role he always assumed in this room. He had offered to end the session without the use of the safe word, and the Elda felt mildly hurt.

"No," he said in a hoarse, thick voice.

"Then you must take deep breaths. I will not harm you, but if you do not calm yourself, that is what will happen. If you want to continue, then you must relax." More tender strokes to his skin and Glorfindel felt his face aflame with shame. Erestor did not have the confidence in him that he could weather the session.

"Continue," the Elda ground out. He closed his eyes again and centered himself, no longer focusing on the blazing heat of his backside or the near-painful ache of the weights hanging from his chest. Glorfindel focused instead on the steady beat of his heart, the constant pulse of desire in his loins. Erestor had not permitted him release for several days and his body was eager for completion. He turned all his attentions inward on the distant shore of orgasm, and he barely registered when the cane connected with his flesh again.

Glorfindel found that space in himself where the pain was but background noise to the rising tide of release. He was soon rising to meet the cane, his breathing ragged and soft mewls of needful pleasure escaped his lips. With each rise and fall of his buttocks, the weights would swing and he would feel a pull in his groin, another push toward that precipice. Strikes were planted on his lower portion of his buttocks, to either side of the crevice, and he felt the vibrations course through him, into his length. Glorfindel opened his eyes, his moaning becoming loud cries and he continued to rise to meet those carefully placed blows.

Faster they came, the pressure ever the same; Erestor did not increase the strength of his strikes. Glorfindel felt the tightening in his belly and let out a loud cry of shock as he spilled his seed onto the cold stone floor, shuddering in the wake of an intense orgasm. His breathing had slowed before he realized Erestor had stopped the caning.

"I have only witnessed such a release once in my long years," Erestor said in a breathless voice, almost in awe. "You are special, pen- vara."

Glorfindel felt pride blossom in his breast. He had pleased Erestor, had done something the Councilor had not thought he could do. He was special. His eyes slowly closed as he was overtaken by the inevitable physical and emotional exhaustion that followed on the heels of such a session. He was pulled out of his blissful moment of reverie when the lower portion of the Cross folded under and he found his feet on the floor once more, but his upper body still bent. Glorfindel knew what was to come and his spent member twitched with anticipation.

Slick, cool fingers entered him quickly, smearing the salve deep, but without much more preparation. As soon as the fingers left his body, Erestor's thick length pierced him in one fluid thrust. Glorfindel arched as much as his bonds and position would allow, a mew of pained pleasure echoing in the room. Erestor did not permit him a moment to grow accustomed to the intrusion, but set a hard, rough rhythm. He was rocked against the wooden frame; cries were wrung from his lips when Erestor dragged his nails along the raw, swollen skin of his buttocks.

Deep strokes, the sound of skin slapping skin mingling with the Elda 's cries and moans. Erestor rode him with an abandon Glorfindel had never seen and before the Councilor could find his own release in the tight velvet heat of Glorfindel's body, he withdrew and soon the warmth of Erestor's essence coated his throbbing buttocks. Erestor's hands rubbed the milky fluid into his stinging flesh, pinching and massaging the sore muscles.

Glorfindel heard Erestor move behind him and he whimpered softly. He ached all over and knew he would not be able to perform his duties in the morning. Erestor stood beside the Cross and removed the pin again, righting the device slowly, before replacing the pin. Deft fingers unbuckled the collar, removing the damp leather from his throat. Glorfindel hung limply from his restraints, and waited for Erestor to free him.

The clamps were removed and Glorfindel could not help the low groan of pain as blood rushed to his bruised nipples. Erestor soothed the nubs with his tongue, gently sucking and teasing them until Glorfindel purred tiredly.

In silence Erestor unbound him, allowing the tall Elda to lean on him as they exited the playroom. Glorfindel moved stiffly, his muscles protesting until Erestor eased him, belly down, to the bed. Glorfindel rested his tear-stained face against the cool linen of his pillow, gasping slightly when a cool rag was laid over his smarting backside. Erestor released Glorfindel's hair, brushing the golden locks until they shined in the candlelight. The Noldo removed the warmed rag and Glorfindel let out a long sigh as Erestor soothed his body with the thick menthol salve.

Within moments he was teetering on the brink of oblivion, his lover's gentle hands soothing and relaxing him with skill. Before he succumbed to reverie, though, he turned his dark blue eyes to the bottomless wells of Erestor's. " Melin chen, Erestor," he said raggedly.

"Melin chen, Glorfindel. Rest. We are done for tonight." Erestor continued to caress the burning skin, adding more salve, and singing softly to his lover as he fell into a deep sleep.

TBC...