A Bound Game

Title: A Bound Game
Author: Nikkiling
Pairing: Lindir/Elladan/Elrohir implied
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Characters and places are property of Mr. Tolkien. I get nothing from this but the enjoyment of writing.
Warning: Um… I’m sure there ought to be a warning of some sort, but I can’t think of any appropriate!
Summary: Lindir is forced to perform under rather unusual circumstances.

Happy Holidays Everyone!


A Bound Game

As Lindir walked into the large room, he felt as though all eyes were focused upon him. Granted, such was indeed the case, but the bard saw them staring for different reasons than what they really were. He was to perform tonight; a common enough practice. His voice and his songs were well-loved by the folk of Imladris. This would be nothing special; merely a gathering of elves within one of the great halls, come together to listen to various performances of song and storytelling. However, there was something different and Lindir feared that everyone would certainly be able to see it, despite precautions taken by both him and the twins.

It was their fault, really. A dare made by the sons of Elrond that he had been unable to pass up; a dare that could have been considered more of a command. His lovers could be very demanding, and in their strange relationship they tended towards the dominant roles, with Elrohir slightly more so than Elladan; which was how he ended up in this uncomfortable situation in the first place.

Uncomfortable, and yet strangely erotic at the same time, for what no elf in this room knew, and none were to discover, was that beneath his heavy robes, he was erotically bound.

As he walked, his robes shifted against his chest, brushing against the small silver clamps attached to his painfully erect nipples. With every step a long, polished phallus of wood and leather buried deep within his stretched opening shifted to press insistently against his prostate, held in place by several leather straps. His cock was bound up against his body in such a way that would make it very difficult to achieve release, yet leaving him in a constant state of arousal. Soft knotted ropes crisscrossed his torso and thighs in an artful fashion that also stimulated various sensitive points upon his flesh. All this lay beneath the dark, concealing robes, and would remain so concealed during the evening performance. The only part of the elaborate hidden costume that any could see was what appeared to be a simple torque encircling his neck, which was in fact a type of collar that the rope attached to in several places, hidden behind his long fall of silver hair.

And the point to this concealed torture? He supposed it was to see if he could pull it off with none the wiser. Sometimes the twins demanded that he do things that had initially seemed beyond him, but had ended up being so incredibly stimulating, he had been grateful for the experience. He would never have imagined performing in front of an audience in such a state of unrequited need, yet here he was. The rules to this particular challenge were few; to endure, and to do so without any the wiser. He and the twins had done things of a similar nature in the past, but never where one of them was under the attention and scrutiny of so many. If he failed, then the twins would be allowed to punish him as they deemed fit, although their punishments weren’t always so terrible. If he succeeded, then he dictated the next challenge, and was free to use the twins any way he pleased. It was a game of dominance and control; and a game in which Elrohir and Elladan usually won.

Lindir had nearly refused to do this, but with a lot of cajoling, he finally conceded. And he might have blamed the twins, but he had been caught bragging about his superb control over his body and mind, even amidst song. It had been a moment the twins had found too good to pass up, and now Lindir found himself cursing himself a thousand times a fool for even opening his mouth. As all eyes turned his direction, he imagined that they could see beneath his clothing, or at the very least that they suspected that he was concealing some dark, erotic secret that would start rumors flying.

“Hello, Lindir.” Melpomaen walked up to him unexpectedly, a pleasant smile upon his face. “You are looking well tonight.”

He knows, Lindir thought, his heart racing, but replied with a polite “Thank you.” He was almost surprised to find his voice pitched normally.

“Have you composed anything new?”

“Yes, I have a new song or two,” Lindir replied, struggling to remain calm.

Melpomaen nodded. “I would love to hear the Song of Nimrodel again.”

“That should not be a problem.” He said, shifting slightly in nervousness. Yet it was an ill move, for as he shifted so did the thick phallus embedded in his backside, and he had to fight to conceal the moan the sensation caused. He knew it wasn’t very large considering what the twins could have used, but it still felt like it was splitting him in two.

“Are you well?” the scribe asked curiously. “You seem quite flushed.”

“I am quite well,” Lindir was quick to respond. “It is merely warm in here.” And he gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he carefully moved away.

When he finally reached his seat he set down his harpcase before gingerly (and he hoped not too noticeably) sitting down upon the wooden chair. He had to bite the inside of his cheek as he did so, attempting to stifle any unexpected sounds as his backside hit the chair and once more shifted the wooden shaft. He could feel his muscles clenching and unclenching around the rigid phallus, and his own shaft twitched in response. He had to quickly glance down to assure himself that none of the leaking cum had started to soak through the layers of cloth.

Why, in Mordor’s name, did I agree to this! He silently cursed himself as he carefully bent to retrieve his harp from its case. This is ridiculous! Someone is bound to notice!

His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for some sign that one of the elves saw through the charade. However, at that moment most appeared to be deep in conversation with their fellows. Only a few smiles were turned in his direction, and none of them carried that knowing look that he was expecting. So far he seemed to be pulling it off, and the thought brought an erotic tingle to his body.

How far could he go, he wondered as he began to tune the strings of his lapharp. If he shifted just so upon the hard surface of the chair, the phallus moved to rub at the spongy flesh deep within. If he could somehow manage to rock just a little without being detected… or if he moved to one edge of the seat so the corner lay aligned with the base of the wooden shaft… he may be bound, but he was not bound so tight that with enough stimulation he could not find release of he tried hard enough. The twins had not forbid him from coming; mainly, they didn’t think he had the nerve to do so in front of so many. In fact, the thought of doing so amongst so many, yet in secret, was something he now found highly arousing, and he found himself shifting a little further upon the hard chair.

As though his thoughts had summoned them, Elladan and Elrohir strode into the room, and he paused him his actions. They were beautiful, and while it was obvious that they were very much aware of the fact, none held it against them. Hair the deepest sable fell loose down their backs with only a few small plaits to give ornamentation. Their dark, stormy eyes seemed full of secrets, of which Lindir knew a few. They moved with the predatory grace of able warriors, utterly confident in their abilities. Had they been born female, their sister Arwen would have had stiff competition for the title of Evenstar. As it was, there were perhaps no more beautiful male elves around, and the lovely creatures belonged to Lindir, and he to them; a thought which made the bard smile.

Their gazes passed through the room, finally coming to land on Lindir, whose breathing had steadily deepened as his need increased. As though sensing his earlier thoughts, Elrohir smiled and ever so slightly shook his head. It was a simple gesture, but it may have well been a command. He was not to come.

Lindir nearly whimpered, but bit at his lower lip instead. For a moment he considered defying them. What would they do, lash him? Yes, well, perhaps they would, but the need for release was becoming overwhelming!

As he stared at the twins he rocked slightly, defiantly, and loosened a sigh of pleasure the movement caused. Elladan smirked, clearly amused, while Elrohir raised one eyebrow that seemed to ask if he truly thought such a move was a wise course of action. Lindir let a secret smile pass over his lips, and, glancing about to make certain none were looking in his direction, shifted once more. He knew he was playing with fire; he would not be able to sit for days once the twins had finished with him, but the pressure upon and within his body was becoming to much, and slowly overriding his senses. Perhaps if he could just find release, he could manage to perform without embarrassing himself.

Suddenly their father, Lord Elrond, approached the twins. Lindir watched curiously as Elrohir gestured towards the bard, however they were too far away and the room too noisy to make out what they said. The Imladrin Lord then turned his head to stare at Lindir in a peculiar fashion; however amusement and sympathy were easily read within his expression.

Panic arose within the bard, and he froze. Did they actually do what he thought they did? Did Elrohir tell his father what was happening?

No, he tried to reassure himself. The twins would never share the details of such games with their father… or would they? He knew they had an exceptional relationship with their father, but surely the discussion of such sexual matters was beyond what they would consider comfortable. They never hid their odd, three-way relationship from any, but neither did they share any details of their couplings, or their games. Fixing a questioning gaze upon the eldest twin, he was met with a look of smug satisfaction.

Lindir felt his cheeks redden further with embarrassment, and he bent his head towards the strings in hope that the fall of his hair would hide his face. He had the urge to run from the hall. The whole thing was positively mortifying! What did his lord think of him now? He was trussed up like a needy whore before half the elves of Imladris! Once thing was certain; his arousal had diminished to a more manageable level; a throbbing ache rather than a dominating need.

A moment later and he felt a presence close by. Looking up, he found Elrond had approached him, a cushion in hand and that sympathetic look still in his grey eyes.

“My sons have told me what happened. It is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. But you must be terribly uncomfortable. Stand up for a moment.”

His face now so red he would swear it glowed, Lindir rose. He watched as Elrond placed the cushion upon the chair and then gestured for him to sit back down. As he sat he realized the cushion in fact had a hollow middle. There was no way he could try anything now; not that he was about to anymore with his Lord’s eyes upon him in a most embarrassing fashion.

“There now. If you come to the healing quarters later, I have a salve that should help.”

“Thank you,” Lindir murmured. “I think I can manage.”

Elrond nodded his head before turning to leave. The bard shot an evil glare in the twins’ direction, and much to his consternation, Elladan laughed aloud. What did this mean for their game? One of the major rules was that none were to know, yet it wasn’t as though HE had broken the rule. Was the game now void? Did he automatically win? Could he just pick up and leave now, assured of his victory?

Looking at the amused faces of Elrohir and Elladan he knew he couldn’t. They would certainly expect that of him. In fact, the eldest twin seemed to be gloating, an expression that the bard found insufferable. They truly expected him to give up.

Lindir glowered back in their direction. He would show them. He was made of sterner stuff than they thought. He would show them strength of will and endurance…

Or at least he would try.

His instrument finally tuned, he carefully resettled it upon his lap. He plucked at several strings, the music quivering through the hall. He was unsettled, and his music would reflect that if he did not concentrate. So he chose a simple, yet lively song to play first, in hopes that such would help him take his mind off the incessant pressure. However, it only seemed to aggravate his slowly mounting need. Every word was fraught with a double meaning, turning what would have been a simple song into something lewd and bawdy. The long boat sailing into port was Elladan’s cock driving into his sweet arse. An elf climbing the mast, the boat rocking upon the sea…. And not only that, he never realized how much he moved when he sang. His foot tapping lightly was fine, but any swaying was out of the question for it shifted his robes and in turn aggravated his clamped nipples and bound cock.

He quickly finished the song and started another about a weaponsmith. It seemed safe enough, until he reached the verse where the elf was pounding iron into long swords and Lindir had to quickly compose himself as heat rushed back to his groin. The next song seemed innocent enough as well…but when the herald began to blow his horn Lindir was unable to keep the blood from rushing to his face.

Perhaps I should leave off with the lively songs, he reconsidered. Those in the room still seemed oblivious to Lindir’s little problem, although the twins were grinning wickedly. They were enjoying every minute, and from the slight bulges beneath their tunics, they were becoming as aroused as he.

He decided to play the Song of Nimrodel. It was lengthy and sorrowful, so he figured it should leave him fairly unaffected. Soon he lost himself within the music, and as no song ever left him unaffected, and especially not one as poignant as the one in which he sang, his arousal eased as the song progressed, the relief of which he tried not to let show in his voice.

When it was finished, he looked smugly at the twins. Ha! He silently called to them.

“Sing the Song of Beren and Luthien,” Elrohir called out impishly. Other elves shouted in agreement, causing the smug look to fall from Lindir’s face. The romantic lay between the legendary elf and human was the last thing he wished to play at the moment. The song called for passion, and passion was the last thing he wished to encourage.

He glared at the eldest twin and after retuning his harp, began to sing. The first few bars seemed to go well. He knew that with the right voice and tone the listener could be transported back to the forest of the two lovers, and feel the intensity of their longing; he wasn’t about to stint his audience merely due to his own discomfort. This night Lindir found himself inserting his own sensual frustration into the ballad, transforming it from a song about love and into one of lust and unrequited ecstasy. And the audience was not unaffected. Many cuddled close to lovers as though waiting for an opportune moment to leave so that they might make real the passions burning in their loins.

Lindir, lost in song, seemed oblivious to the effect he was having upon his fellow elves, although he was keenly aware of what he was doing to himself. His cock throbbed painfully and the shaft piercing his body was now pure torture. His skin felt hot and sensitive beneath the heavy robes, and his nipples ached from the bite of the clamps. The song of romance and love had only fueled his desires, and he found himself adding his own verses to the old ballad, further describing Luthien’s breathtaking beauty, and Beren’s lusty countenance. And if, for a brief moment, Luthien was pictured as a male elf dancing seductively through the ancient trees, it only reflected Lindir’s own sexual preferences, and none seemed to notice.

The song drifted off, and a deep silence followed with only his own heavy breathing echoing in his ears. Lindir, eyes closed, took a deep breath of the heated air, and upon the exhale began to sing once more. It was impulsive, the words and melody springing from his hungry lips of their own accord; slow and sensuous. The lyrics came to him as though from another source; intentional euphemisms that on first perusal seemed innocent enough, however given the lustful air sweeping through the room, none present could mistake it for what it was: pure aural sex. Every word, every note, reflected the fire burning through his body, the aching in his groin, the pain of unrequited desire. He held his audience entranced by the seductive quality of his song for all were now voyeurs to this macabre performance. Yet at the same time each elf was so touched by the undulating melody that caressed the ears that it was as though each were the only one present to the bard’s licentious voice. Hands lifted to touch, to stimulate, to unconsciously encourage Lindir’s song, and any sigh that broke free was engulfed within the melodic enchantment. His voice was the echo of a lover’s moan and a paramour’s whimper, building in tempo and cadence until it finally ended in an orgasmic cry that sent many elves in the room reeling with their own release.

The silence which followed was absolute. Lindir slowly lowered his head from where he had flung it back, damp silver locks falling once more about his face. He opened his eyes to look upon his stunned audience, and couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed upon realizing that most of them were shifting their robes and tunics as though to hide the signs of full arousal, or the dark patches caused by sated need. Even the twins appeared shocked as though unable to believe that their bard had just done what he had done, and made no move to cover the evidence of their own sated desires.

Lindir carefully began loosen the strings and repack his harp. As his did so the murmurings began once more. Hurrying footsteps caught Lindir’s ears as many of the elves rushed towards various exits, intent upon seeking a more private release from the song that still seemed to hold them in its grip.

Unfortunately, the force of the experience had not been lost on him either, and as he rose from his seat, he could feel the warm, sticky remnants of his own release upon his belly. A pleasant lassitude had fallen over him, and for the moment, he didn’t care that he had come when Elrohir had indicated that he shouldn’t. In fact, he felt amusement more than anything else. He had managed to beguile his audience with his own lust, and with them still unaware of his own bound state, send them into ecstasy. It made him feel suddenly powerful, for although he had heard of such a thing happening, he never thought himself able to duplicate such a feat. He knew he would certainly hear about it later when the mass ardor subsided – he was only grateful that it was late enough that all younglings were safe in their beds – but for now he would simply enjoy the euphoric bliss that laid claim to his body.

Adjusting his harpcase to cover his front in case anything managed to soak through the thick fabric of his robes, he walked out of one of the side exits and into the nearly empty corridors beyond. His bindings were certainly more manageable now that he had found release, although he still thrummed with post-orgasmic sensitivity. He knew it wouldn’t take much to make him aroused once more, especially if the ropes, phallus, and clamps weren’t removed.

Yet he hadn’t made it far before he was caught by surprise, jumping backwards as without warning the twins appeared before him; seeming to melt out of the shadows. Elrohir had a stern look upon his handsome features, although the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his demeanor. Elladan had his arms crossed over his chest, but he didn’t even try to hide the sly grin etched across his face as he moved to stand behind the bard.

“You hold quite a talent,” the eldest twin spoke. “However, you came, despite my command not to,” Elrohir reached out and pulled at one of the trapped nipples concealed beneath the robe. It caused Lindir to hiss as his arousal began to grow once more, and his head fell back onto Elladan’s waiting shoulder. His harpcase he clutched close to his body for safety, yet the elder twin gently pried the instrument from his grip and set it aside.

“I am sorry,” Lindir murmured. “But you broke the rules by telling your father.”

“Drastic measures.” Elrohir leaned in and nipped at Lindir’s lower lip. “You were being disobedient. Little did I know it wouldn’t matter.” He reached down to Lindir’s groin and roughly fondled the damp spot.

The white-haired elf hitched a breath, pushing his burgeoning cock into Elrohir’s hand while lifting a hand to grasp Elladan’s neck, leaning heavily against the younger twin. “Then we are even,” he gasped. “We both broke the rules. Now release me.”

Elrohir leaned in to lay claim Lindir’s to mouth, his tongue sweeping between the eager lips, but it was Elladan who answered, his voice a soft caress within the bard’s ear. “We told father nothing of this. We broke no rules.”

Lindir’s eyes flashed open and he emitted a sound of surprise that caused Elrohir to pull back slightly, a grin on the elder twin’s face. “My brother is correct. We only told him that you had been bitten by a snake in a very embarrassing place while out wandering the hills. Your… discomfort was obvious.”

A dark flush raced up Lindir’s face. A snake. The twins had tricked him. He should have known better. “You cheated.”

“Did we?”

“Yes. And in any case, it wasn’t as though you held your own release.” He looked pointedly at the twin’s crotch, and the gentle bulge that was slowly becoming more defined.

Elrohir glanced towards his brother, who was stroking Lindir’s arse affectionately. “And what do you say?”

“He does have a point,” Elladan shrugged. “Perhaps a draw then?”

Elrohir’s grey eyes shifted back to Lindir, who nodded once.

“So how shall we decide who dictates the next challenge?”

“Oh, I believe we can come up with something…” Lindir leaned forwards to capture Elrohir’s lips in his own, swiping his tongue across the perfect teeth. He could hear Elladan chuckling in his ear, and the hand upon his arse move down to push at the phallus still embedded within him, causing a whimpering moan to escape into Elrohir’s mouth.

“Although I still believe you need to be punished,” Elladan whispered, nuzzling the pale lobe.

“And what is my crime?” Lindir purred against the elder twin’s mouth.

“Inciting the innocent people of Imladris into a sexual frenzy.”

“A punishable offense,” Elrohir seconded, running his hands across Lindir’s chest, stimulating the aching nipples.

“Mmmm…then by all means,” He replied, his back arching to encourage both sets of hands and imagining all that lay in store for him before the night was over. “Discipline me.”

-End-