Master

A/N: 'words in here are thoughts'. I thought to point that out (again), since someone told me that I could be mistake as speach. Well, it isn't. Another thing I want to mention: I am currently writing my final thesis for university and so I wanted to excuse for the lack of updates on this story. Sorry, lads and lasses. Thank you Susan for doing the beta-reading!


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Elrond woke to movement next to him. Opening his eyes, he smiled at the cerulean eyes that peeked at him over a pale white shoulder.

“Good morning, did you sleep well, *my* prince?” Elrond whispered into one delicate ear, making sure to stress the ownership in his statement. He did it to push home the fact to Legolas that the young woodland-elf belonged to him now, that he was a prized possession, like a valuable stallion or mare to breed and show to the world.

Legolas turned his head away in defiance, hoping in doing so, that he could push away reality of his enslavement. But Elrond aiming his member, which was still nestled in Legolas’ passage, to hit his prostate with considerable force, made the situation all to clear.

Unwelcome heat blossomed in Legolas’ groin and the young elf tried to will away a growing arousal. No, nooo... NO. ‘I do not want this... I... no... I cannot allow these feelings...’

He groaned as Elrond thrust again. One, two... three times. With each thrust, perfectly angled to find his prostate, his member swelled until it lay flat against his abdomen, oozing precious little silver pearls.

Elrond chose this moment to withdraw his own member from the welcoming heat of Legolas’ body; he would have to take care of his own needs when in the bathing chamber.

Opening the drawer of his nightstand he pulled out a small polished ring of mithril, which had a closure to tighten it. Turning back to Legolas, he asked: “Do you know what this is?”

Legolas shook his head in a mixture of fear and curiosity, his eyes wide. Elrond laughed. “Well... I should show you then, don’t you think?”

With a flick of his hand, he slipped the small mithril ring over Legolas’ erect penis, settling the cool mithril against the heated flesh of its base; then locked it in place with an all too final sounding click. Cold burned deeply into heated flesh and soaking up ist warmth in exchange.


Blue eyes widened in shock and dismay with the realisation of what had just happened. ‘Why... why does he do this to me... what have I done to deserve this...’ cried the Elf-prince silently, thoughts existing only his own mind, but was distracted as a warm hand closed around his member to stroke it. His eyes closed of their own accord.

Soaring to new heights of pleasure, abandoning reality for carnal bliss, Legolas groaned. He wanted to come... so desperately... but realised suddenly he couldn’t... and then the hand left his member.

One thought shot threw his mind. ‘Bastard!’. And eyes shot open to see a smirking Elf-lord.


“Ah, I see now that you have understood its purpose, haven’t you?” He chuckled as he stood.

The following routine was the same as the days before. He brought Legolas to his bathing chamber, letting the young elf taking care of his own needs - under his watchful eye of course and humiliating to the fair haired archer for sure - and then cleaning up afterwards. Here he lend a *helping* hand. Who wanted a dirty and sweaty elf?

Returning from their morning routine, Elrond made his charge ready for the day, settling him down. Some time after he had left, Legolas sat on the bed and remembered...

...


“You know... I thought to reward you... my puppy!” the Elf-lord said when they stept from the bathing chamber. Taking Legolas’ hands into his own, he stroked his thumb over the tender abrasions on the prince’s wrists. In a sudden gesture of affection, he kissed them and smiled.

“How about this: I do not tie you down to the bed but only shackle your left ankle to the bedpost? Would you like that?”

Legolas nodded his head, trying not to look too eager.

“Then you must promise me to be a good little puppy and behave...” Elrond said, tightening his hold on Legolas’ wrists none too gently. “Or I will have to punish you. You don’t want that, do you?”

Legolas cringed as Elrond’s grip on his sore wrists irritated the abrasions there. Looking up he shook his head vigorously to show that he understood Elrond’s terms.

“Ah well, sit down then... and turn over.” Elrond ordered

Legolas frowned but did as Elrond asked, and jerked with sudden realisation as Elrond pressed the plug back inside his tender passage. Before he could contemplate his shock any further, a shackle clicked into place around his ankle...

A last pat to his head and his Master was gone...

...

That left the young Prince alone and time to contemplate his fate. Again. Memories of his capture re-surfaced from where he had banned them into some dark recess of his mind. Memories of his torture. He shuddered. Rolling onto his side, he drew his legs to his chest for comfort, wrapping his arms around them and began rocking.

How he wished to be free again, running and frolicking beneath Mirkwood’s trees, rejoicing in their song or hunting some spider or other evil creature. A tear escaped his eye and he scrunched them shut to prevent further tears from coming. But he could not stop the memories from coming, and so he let them wash over him. Oh sweet, sweet torture. His soul broke at the prospect of never seeing Mirkwood or his family again.

His own damned honour had sealed his fate. He had promised he would not try to flee and he was too proud and honourable an elf to break an oath once given. That honour, at least, was the only thing left to him, as he had been stripped of ought else. A heavy blow to the once proud Prince of the Woodland realm. So he would kling to what had been left to him...

He cried himself to the point of fatigue and fell into an exhausted sleep only woken when Elrond came for his daily routine of feedings. And so the day went on and night fell, swathing Imladris in its dark mantle, sprinkled with glittering diamonds.

Elrond came, stripped and bathed, then freed the prince of his shackle and they went to sleep, the same way as they did the two days before - with Elrond pressed close to*his* Mirkwood prince, cock nestled in the warm passage.

And thus it went on the next days, settling into a routine that had Legolas’ slowly accepting his fate since he could do nothing to change it. So instead of struggling night after night against Elrond, he began to soak up, even openly seeking, what comfort he was offered by the Elf-lord. A caress here, a kiss there... whispered words of comfort.

This went on until one evening...


°°°°°°TO°°°°°°BE°°°°°°°CONTINUED°°°°°°


Here I quote my lovely Beta-reater Susan: "A cliffhanger, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" But please refrain from throwing sharp objects at the author of this story. She best works unmaimed. *laughs*