Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Revelation

Eönwë and Mairon become more intimately acquainted.

 

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7. Revelation

Mairon walked a few steps away. He paused for a long while with his back to me. When I was about to venture a query, he turned to face me again. His eyes were now cold and calculating where previously they had been warm and appreciative; his mien was unreadable; his whole shape spoke of dangerous power leashed within.

‘You are here to serve me.’ His voice rang with authority and faint echoes of menace. ‘Tonight, in this room, Mânawenûz[1] does not exist; you shall accept me as your only lord. Otherwise, leave now.’

I was startled but had expected no less. When I did not answer or move, he continued.

‘My rules are simple. You will acknowledge and obey my every command, immediately and without complaint. Your only purpose is my pleasure.’

Before I could ask about a word of release like the one Chakmóol had mentioned, he settled the matter unambiguously.

‘Nothing but my will shall release you this night. Are these rules agreeable?’

I would not have called them agreeable. In fact I was truly disturbed at being deprived of all control once more, and this time willingly. But his dominance, however unappealing, was undoubtedly the crucial ingredient in the allure of our engagement.

‘Agreed,’ I spoke, not as confidently as I would have liked.

He pierced me with his steel gaze, as if appraising the sincerity of my answer. I found myself tensing, waiting for further instructions with my sweaty hands clenched tightly at my sides.

‘My servants must conduct themselves in a manner appropriate to their station. You shall kneel and remain still unless told otherwise; you will not speak without my leave; and when you do you shall address me as “Master.” Be warned, I will punish breaches in propriety most severely.’

He pointed at the floor and I went on one knee reluctantly.

‘Both knees,’ he demanded sharply.

A flush went up my neck and cheeks. I hated the feeling of helpless inferiority that came with the servile posture, with him towering over me so close that I could no longer see his face, not even craning my neck.

‘Agreed, what?’ he snapped. I had to think twice before I could recall what he demanded.

‘Agreed...’ I found the word stuck in my throat. Never before had I thought it demeaning to name Manwë “my lord” in public, because he owned my fealty. Now, behind a locked door I hesitated to utter a word carrying a similar burden of deference.

I heard him walk a few paces and return to stand behind me. There came a sharp swishing sound just before a fiery sting crossed my shoulders. I yelped and looked up to see a riding whip in Mairon’s hands. I began to rise, but he shoved me down without effort.

‘You dare disobey me already?’ His voice was smooth, but laden with danger. ‘Agreed, what?’

‘Agreed. Master.’ I nearly choked. I wished to stand up and strangle him for this humiliation, for striking me like a beast, but I forced myself to stay still.

‘Make sure you do not forget again. I will not tolerate your insolence.’

Unsure as to whether I should answer or remain silent I opted for the latter, if only to avoid the dreaded word.

‘Strip!’ he said.

I nodded. Just as I realised my mistake, another sharp stroke fell on my back.

‘Your behaviour is deplorable, slave!’ he snarled.

I winced, more at the epithet than at the pain, and again curbed the urge to attack him. I breathed deeply, and wondered what he would do if I should stand up and attempt to walk away, though I well knew I would not, however much he tried me; if nothing else, my pride was at stake.

‘Yes, Master,’ I forced from between gritted teeth.

Still on my knees, I removed the remains of my tattered tunic and shirt, then the rest of my clothes and tossed them all to the side.

When I finished, he stood before me and slowly traced my bare shoulder with his fingertips, cool and light as the kiss of the evening breeze.

‘Beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘And mine…, mine at last.’

His fingers dwelled upon my throat, the pulse of my hröa thrumming wildly under their feathery presence. Responding to their ghostly probing, my lips parted, and when his caress brushed the lobe of my ear, I shivered.

I tried to focus on the symmetry of the perfectly carved muscles of his abdomen, on the bold twirl of his navel above the edge of dark cloth that veiled what I did not dare imagine.

Ai, what sorcery was in his touch? I felt my groin awaken, I longed to answer the urge by stroking myself. Fortunately, he placed a possessive hand over my head, and this firm pressure distracted me from such forbidden temptation.

The floor was too hard for my liking, and I started to shift uncomfortably from one knee to the other. As soon as I moved, Mairon slapped me hard across the face. A flush of shame invaded me again. His painful grip on my shoulder kept me in place when I would have jumped up to return his blow. I blanched at the fey fire in his eyes.

‘You clearly need a stronger reminder of my ownership.’

He stepped out of the circle of light, and promptly returned with an object in his hands. A collar. Not the dainty jewel Chakmóol had worn, but a thick iron ring with evil-looking spikes set on the inside. Far, far worse than the one I had once forced on Moringotto amongst the roaring cheers of our winning host.

I stared at it in disbelieving horror, my heart racing as he locked the hideous collar around my neck.

The spikes were not sharp as I had feared; they pressed on my skin but did not break it. But when Mairon attached a chain to the iron ring and pulled downwards lightly I had no option but to follow his movement. I fell on my hands.

‘Much better, slave!’ his voice sounded pleased. ‘You are learning to obey me, if only the hard way.’

He tugged at the leash, and I would have pounced on him but for the hand that pressed my head down. I was forced to crawl on all fours like a dog; rage seethed inside me at this indignity.

Then, I stilled in shock when his other hand slithered down from my side and fondled my cock. A sudden jolt of desire shook me and my hröa stirred in that tingling way I recognised as the start of an erection.

Too soon, he withdrew both hands. A firm pull on my neck forced me to stand. I found myself between two thick upright beams, slightly closer together than the span of my fully outstretched arms. I balked, but Mairon’s bottomless gaze, flecked in silver sparks, enthralled mine. I stood mesmerised, while he lifted my right hand and pressed it against the manacle that hung from a chain bolted to the wood. When it wrapped itself around my wrist and snapped shut, I reacted at last, far too late.

I strained against the bond with all my might but it did not budge. Surrendering, I glared at my captor’s smirk.

‘Only my will shall release you,’ he spoke meaningfully. His voice was deadly soft and his words, accepted when I had stood free before him, now sent tremors of dread throughout my flesh.

Twice tonight had I found myself bound at the mercy of one whose dominion had been torment. The first time through trickery, but now of my own volition.

‘Raise your other hand.’

My will was all but crushed under an alien instinct that both feared and craved the perilous excitement wrought by Mairon, that smothered all vestiges of rational thought and disregarded all warnings for caution. Like a moth flying into the flare of the candle that would burn it alive, I complied.

The click of the second manacle provoked a surge of inexplicable thrill, perhaps because it sealed my vulnerability at his hands; then a hard slap on my bottom made me yelp and the spell was broken.

‘What must you do when I give you an order, thrall?’

This time he looked displeased. I felt indignant; I had obeyed him, despite my well-founded doubts. What else…? I remembered the rules.

‘Yes…,’ I hesitated; a handa snaked under my testicles and closed tightly upon them. ‘Master.’

I shook my head in disbelief. The word had fallen out of my mouth almost without thought. He had named me his slave, and I had played along. But now I was truly a prisoner to his will. This realisation had the most potent effect. He noticed the twitch of my cock between his fingers and slowly stroked me to full hardness.

‘I had forgotten how intoxicating it can be to break a slave in for the first time.’

The raw lust in his tone made me raise my head. A fey hunger shone in his eyes. Shocked,  I realised that he must be as aroused as I was.

‘Aye, my captive Maia, I ache for you.’

Could he read my mind? He stood behind me and pressed his erection against the small of my back. A rush of heat at this intimate closeness spread through my whole body, even despite the layer of cloth between our skins.

‘So new to pleasure and pain, untouched in all senses… You must learn to master your hröa’s reactions,’ he whispered in my ear, as he traced the line of my jaw with his lips until he buried his face in my hair. ‘You are like an open book to me.’

Suddenly he pinched my nipple hard, and I gasped at the bolt of pain. All tenderness had disappeared.

‘I suspect you may still believe this to be a mere jest. Fortunately, you are about to be relieved from that misconception.’

He secured my ankles to chains fastened to the bottom of the beams and busied himself braiding my hair away from my back with long strips of leather. Having my legs spread apart increased my sense of helplessness tenfold, with every corner of my skin perilously exposed to his sight and touch.

Mairon stood before me. In one hand he held an uncoiled whip that trailed on the floor. I stared at the dreadful instrument, but not for long. With his free hand, he cupped my chin firmly and made me look into his eyes.

‘You are strong, remember that. You can bear the pain I am about to give you, and when you embrace my gift, you shall find pleasure in it.’ Sceptical, I opened my mouth to speak but remembered the rules just in time. He nodded. ‘You are learning… but make no mistake, you will beg before dawn.’

He released me and moved away silently. I waited, grasping the chains with aching fingers.

Without warning, a loud crack hit my ears at the same time as a searing sting ripped my back and threw me forwards against my bonds. I managed to stifle the cry that almost left my lips.

The pain was far from the worst I had ever suffered as an Incarnate, but frightening in its ferocity. I was relieved when it began to fade into a fiery tingling. If this was the worst Mairon could do, I would endure the lashing. I tensed, waiting.

Another strike followed, blossoming into a new burst of rippling pain. Like a flame, it burnt a path across the skin of my back. I took a deep breath, clenched my teeth, and breathed through the worst of the pain.

A few more lashes followed, less slowly. The pain began to build up, and I struggled to remain calm during each of the pauses in between. When the whip crossed the trail of a previous strike, a wave of excruciating agony rippled through my whole body. I could not stop myself from hissing a curse. All of a sudden, I was truly afraid. I fought wildly against the chains in a futile attempt to flee from the next strike, but it still fell, implacable and terrifying.

‘Stop!’ I sobbed. ‘Please stop!’ Mairon did not speak. The lash struck again, and then once more. Lost in the now unbearable pain, I finally remembered the rules. ‘Master, please, stop!’

My pleas were all in vain. Several lashes later, when at last Mairon chose to pause, I was panting and sweating from every pore of my skin, my muscles locked up. Forgetting the terms of engagement, I cursed him to the Void and worse places, and demanded to be released at once. I meant it; I had no wish to continue with such madness.

He merely waited, still behind me. Finally, breathless, aching and frustrated, I slumped from the chains. Sweat stung in my eyes and I blinked several times. Pain had slowly faded into a web of searing heat, which in turn left a glowing warmth on my skin, not wholly unpleasant over the background of my sore, smarting back. At that precise moment, when I thought I had gained a respite, he struck again. I cried out and sensed him move close to my back.

‘You have spoken without leave, you have insulted your lord. You fight the pain when you should accept it gratefully because it comes from my hands and gives me pleasure. You will soon regret your unacceptable behaviour…’ he said sternly.

As if to contradict his own words, he ran his fingers, light as feathers, slowly over my flanks, then down to my hips, sending tantalising shivers down my spine. I longed to return the touch and moaned in frustration.

He licked the curl of my ear and I jerked at the sudden ripple of pleasure. When he stopped, his warm breath on my neck and the heat of his chest betrayed his closeness, but if I swayed to make contact he swiftly moved away, denying me.

Of a sudden, he moved to my front, and took my lips in a fierce kiss. I was stunned at the flare of heat that swept me, and would have given anything for the freedom to embrace him. He sucked and bit my lips eagerly, possessively, and then pressed his tongue demandingly against my teeth. When I hesitated, he sharply pinched my nipple again. I opened my mouth to scream my protest and he took the advantage and pierced his way in. Our tongues warred, neither yielding; he tasted of fire, iron and bittersweet orange. I closed my eyes and savoured the feeling, forgetting pain, chains and anything else but the wonder of this first kiss, a thrilling blend of violence and gentleness.

When he broke it off we were both breathless, and I sighed in regret. Knees that had stood firm during the beating were now shaking with unspent lust. He smirked and took my chin in his firm fingers.

‘Make me proud, and this bland kiss will be forgotten next to what I might give you,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, there is no sweet reward for you yet, slave, and no leniency. Remember, your duty is to submit.’

True to his words, the lash fell relentlessly, too many times to count or remember. My back, my buttocks, my thighs, my chest, they all screamed under the strength of his arm and the sharp bite of leather. I expected to feel the skin rip and my blood flow freely, but the only drops that trickled down were those of my sweat and tears. At first, I bit down hard on my lips or the inside of my cheek to weather the worst of each blow; later I moaned and even howled, losing myself in the sharp peaks of my pain until all sense of time was lost.

And yet, I began to anticipate the next stroke, to crave the glow that followed the loathed sting. When I raised my head to gather my strength, I could see my tormentor watching my every move, hunger written on his face, mixed with the exertion of wielding the whip for so long. I pictured his strong hands bringing me to release and with a shock I realised that my desire had not subsided. On the contrary, the throbbing of my engorged shaft seemed to pulse stronger during the whipping.

When at last the shackles released me I crumpled, sobbing, to the ground. My body was on fire, enveloped in a glowing haze of pain, warmth and arousal. But stronger still was the feeling of elation, of somehow having triumphed, of having mastered something elusive, undefined, unattainable.

‘On your knees!’

I did not even consider disobeying; with an effort I complied as quickly as I could and voiced the expected reply. ‘Yes, Master.’ The words came out easily this time.

Mairon crouched at my side and ran his hands gently over my inflamed flesh. His cool caress was painful but rewarding too, awaking trails of titillating excitement all over my body. I could smell his sweat, and something else. Once during the War, I had been told that in his unclad form Sauron stank. But now I inhaled the scent of his desire and I could not remember a sweeter perfume. Ai, what was he doing to me?

‘You have borne that well, slave,’ he purred. I was strangely pleased by his praise for something over which I all but lacked control. ‘What do you have to say?’

‘Thank you, Master.’

I meant it; I began to suspect that I had been given something, a gift so obscure that my mind could not even name it. And yet I understood at last why he had demanded proof of my trust. I would have never submitted to him in this way if we had been in Tol-in-Gaurhoth and I had been, in truth, his prisoner.

‘I feel inclined to be generous to you, my rebellious thrall,’ he spoke almost kindly. ‘To ease your obedience for what comes next and thus avoid further discipline I will bind you.’ I raised my head, surprised at this strange concession.

He ordered me to my feet. While I stood immobile he affixed around my balls and my cock a tight metal contraption that I could not see properly. The pressure of my need grew to pulsing pain, but somehow there was a grain of pleasure in the sensation. Then he made me bend forward and chained my wrists to the beams, but this time not much higher than my waist. With the whip, he tapped my legs to spread them well apart.

‘Brace yourself against the beams and do not move.’ Apprehensive, I did as commanded and waited, trembling with anticipation. I did not dare turn my head to watch him, fearing what he would do next.

When the cool metal touched the cleft between my buttocks, I yelled with surprise. A sharp yank on the spiked collar reminded me to stay as still as possible, but I could not help squirming. I was punished with a slash of the crop across the back of my thighs, and I pushed harder against the wooden uprights to remain still.

‘This will hurt,’ he warned. There was no apology in his voice.

Very slowly, he forced a long thick object where nothing had ever been forced before, and I ranted loudly when it burnt and stretched all at once, even despite the oil he had poured on it. I gripped the corners of the beams so tightly that my fingers hurt, a welcome pain to take my mind away from what was happening elsewhere. Mairon did not interrupt his task, though, and when he finished, he made sure the intruding metal was secured in place with silk ropes, dyed black and neatly knotted. I dreaded that he would not forget my infractions and would deal with them later.

I was both uncomfortable and titillated, and frustrated at my inability to ignore the deluge of sensation lavished on my body. A slight caress, no more than a wisp, on my throbbing cock almost made me scream at the intensity of the feeling. My unfulfilled desire reached even higher peaks and would have burst had it not been for the cursed restraint. I needed relief, I wanted his touch, any touch, and I growled at my defeat. He had assured me I would beg; right at that time I would have.

‘You are ready to serve me now,’ he pronounced darkly, releasing the manacles from the frame to bind my hands together behind my back.

‘Look at yourself, slave!’

With a tug at the leash he made me walk until we both faced a large polished mirror. I took in the collar, the chain, the proud, aching erection, and I blushed anew. He kissed me lightly on the lips, and I moaned when he withdrew his mouth. He pushed me down to my knees again.

‘You have been too noisy, my beautiful thrall. Now I will give you something to keep your pretty mouth busy.’ Without further preamble, he opened the front of his trousers and thrust his stiff cock against my face, while holding the leash firmly to ensure I would not pull away.

‘Master, surely you don’t expect…’ I almost stuttered, in near panic. ‘I do not know how—'

‘Silence,’ he roared. A quick twist of his fingers at the rope around my waist made me twitch with need when the object inside me turned and tingled mercilessly. ‘Open your mouth and do as I tell you.’

I watched in fascination the drop of pearly moisture on the tip of his cock, and inhaled the powerful scent of his arousal. A strange blend of reluctance and desire coursed through my body. I tried to pull away, but Mairon yanked my hair so hard I would have screamed, had he not used this chance to fill me. He had anticipated my gagging and held the collar tightly.

‘Suck. Be careful or you will pay dearly,’ he commanded.

I had no wish to comply, but I was trapped. So, he set the rhythm and I concentrated on the task, while vainly attempting to ignore the many aches of my body, and the torment of unsatisfied lust. With every move, the burning object that impaled me pushed me a notch higher in the scale of unfulfilment.

I sucked, and licked, sensing Mairon’s growing abandon until, when I thought my aching jaw could take no more, he pulled himself out of my mouth.

‘Normally, I would expect more from one who serves me. This time, however, I will only demand one more thing from you.’ I held my breath in dread. ’Beg me with some conviction, and I may grant your release.’

I hesitated but only briefly. Whatever pride would have once stayed me from begging had perished over the past hours.

‘Master, I beg you, do grant my completion!’ I could see myself on the mirror, kneeling, bound, beaten, and in dire need of gratification. Was it not enough?

‘Appalling,’ answered Mairon, sounding disappointed. ‘Have you learnt nothing? Perhaps I should spill myself on your face, let you cool down until dawn and then ask you to leave.’

I looked up incredulously. From his expression I realised that he was serious and would follow through on this threat, the mere thought of which was unbearable. I would have pleaded, but I had not been given permission, so I bit my lip and hoped he would relent.

‘Now, do it properly, as if you truly mean it. Show some humility.’

I was desperately grateful for this second chance. ‘O mighty Lord Mairon, Master of this lowly slave’s hröa and of his unfulfilled desire, graceful Lord of Gifts, hear the plea of this worthless thrall, forgive his clumsy efforts at serving you, and allow him to reach the bliss of pleasure at the touch of your generous hands. O Highness, have mercy!’

I kissed his knees fervently and, to my utmost surprise, most sincerely. I might wish to strangle him later, but now I bent my head to touch his feet with my forehead and waited anxiously. I ached for completion.

‘Ever since I humbled myself before you have I dreamt of seeing you like this,’ Mairon said wistfully. ‘I could only dream, for how would I ever hope to conquer the mighty herald of Manwë, to see him defeated with his face in the dust?’

He trod on the back of my neck, pressing me painfully against the stone floor. The heat of shame crept once more up my face and spurred my denial. But he took no pity and left me prostrate for a while longer, no doubt savouring his triumph. At last the pressure eased.

‘Your plea is heard, slave.’

Had I been less distracted, I might have attributed some meaning to the undisguised glee in his voice. The leash tensed, I raised my head from the floor and happily shuffled on my knees behind him, dignity the least of my concerns. He pushed me over a bench covered with plump silk cushions. Then he untied the constraint around my arousal. Finally, he removed the object he had inserted inside me.

Without warning, it was swiftly replaced by something of greater girth, hot and hard… When I realised what it was that filled me, I cried and fought to force Mairon off my back, but a sharp jerk at the leash dissuaded me from trying again.

‘Master…’ I cried in protest.

I was well aware of this act between males, it had been rather common in the camps during the War and I had heard gossip of several such couplings in Kiinlúum, not to mention Mairon’s string of male companions. Too late I understood his query when I named my terms, and bitterly cursed my innocence in matters of the flesh.

Mairon placed one hand on my shoulder and the other wrapped itself lightly over my tormented genitals; I nearly melted in his grasp. With a groan of relief, I gave up any thought of fighting. He buried himself deeper into me, at a different angle, and this intimate caress wrought an exquisite wave of pleasure. Stroked from both within and without, it took only a couple of heartbeats before we reached our release together. I soared away, freed from the cage of my hröa, and found myself amongst the stars of Eä again. I abandoned myself blissfully into the sublime pulse of the Music, which surrounded me with a richness of detail almost forgotten since I had lost my Maiarin senses.

Next to me I discerned Mairon as he had been once, before he left Aulë to pursue the teachings of Melkor: joyful, unguarded and close in our friendship.

When I returned to the real world around me, I felt his arms embracing me from behind, and his warm breath on my neck. I could not move, but relished this shared intimacy.

After a while, he let me go. I immediately missed the refuge of his arms. He pulled me up and turned me to face him. His eyes were inscrutable; mine must have surely betrayed my wonder and incredulity at what he had done. Somehow, at the peak of our pleasure he had reached out to my flesh-bound mind, and elevated us both to the highest level of consciousness of our kin, forbidden to me within my hröa.

The manacles fell from my wrists and rattled on the floor. Mairon took the collar slowly from around my neck, and the sudden lightness at its absence felt like a loss. He gently rubbed the raised marks caused by its spikes with the tips of his fingers.

‘You are free to go, Eönwë.’

He threw a warm fur cloak over my shoulders, and pulled my plait from under it, which he undid with his fingers. I grasped his hand and brushed my lips against his palm.

‘Thank you.’ Impulsively, I added the title, even if it was no longer required. ‘Master.’

His mouth curved into a brief smile and he inclined his head in acknowledgement. Despite the intimacy we had just shared, the silence between us felt uncomfortable.

Hastily, I bid him good night and climbed the long flight of stairs outside the door. I recognised his workshop, from where I rushed to my room, still walking on clouds. Faint with exhaustion, I threw myself on my bed and fell asleep at once.

 

 

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Notes:

[1] Mânawenûz (Valarin) Manwë 

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Chapter End Notes