Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Games

Eönwë visits Mairon in his workshop and they strike a deal.

 

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9. Games

During the following days, I did not dare presume that Mairon wished to repeat our experience, given his relationship with Chakmóol. Had he breached the subject, I might have confessed my desires, but the chance did not seem to arise. I often found myself longing to relive the precious moments of ecstasy beyond the ties of my flesh, and even those of nervous anticipation and denied desire mixed with pain that had stirred my hröa like nothing else before.

I wavered for a long time, fearing rejection, but finally I decided I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. When I sought Mairon in his workshop, straight after a gruelling day at court, I sensed that he had guessed my purpose as soon as he saw me step through the door. He did not waste the opportunity to taunt me.

‘Welcome, Counsellor, to my humble workshop,’ he said with a deep, sweeping bow at my entrance. I was wearing my most formal attire and the bothersome beaded braids of my exalted status within the society of Kiinlúum, while he wore a simple leather apron over his plain trousers and shirt.

‘Mairon…’ I began.

‘Is it, by any chance, business that brings you here, lord?’ he interrupted merrily, unwilling to drop his banter. ‘A trinket for a beloved one that you wish to purchase? A betrothal ring of true magnificence, even, for the maiden who has secretly won your heart? Or perhaps you desire a different kind of trade, one that needs to be the subject of careful negotiation ending in a… binding contract?’

I laughed.

‘Indeed. We have both sampled the goods to be traded and the manner of our exchange,’ I ventured, following his game. ‘If what I offer meets your approval, I would consider entering into a contract with you, unless, of course, you are already well served by your existing… arrangements.’

‘My good counsellor,’ he paused and made a point of appraising me thoroughly from head to toe with gleaming eyes. ‘The goods you offer are unique, unmatched by even the finest in Kiinlúum, nay, in the whole of Endórë. I would be a fool to refuse such a precious gem as the one you possess, even uncut and unpolished as it is at the moment. Were you to trust it into my care, I would have great pleasure in shaping it into a jewel of unparalleled beauty, though I must warn you that the process will be excruciatingly tedious, and painful at times. I fear this cannot be avoided, lest its spirit crumble between my fingers.’

I felt both disturbed and excited at having become the object being discussed; titillated and fearful at the double meaning of his words.

‘I fully understand,’ I replied evenly, but I felt my lips curl into a smile. ‘Yet I would be delighted if you would agree to take this task upon yourself, demanding as it might be. I would trust no other but a true master… craftsman to guarantee our mutual satisfaction.’

‘In that case, we might have struck a deal, my honoured counsellor,’ he said, rubbing his hands, ‘and we only need to finalise a few details.’

‘Very well. What are they?’ I was wary; Mairon smiled wickedly.

‘We will convene once a month, at sunset on the night of the new moon, unless arranged otherwise. Initially only until sunrise, but this will surely change as the shaping of our gem progresses and more time is required to study its complexities and make the best use of its attributes. Is this proposition amenable to you, Counsellor?’

‘It is,’ I assented with a shiver.

‘Are there any bounds I should respect, beyond the ones we have spoken of already?’ he queried. I noticed his tension, as if he feared that I would set conditions to my surrender.

‘None,’ I said slowly.

‘Outside those agreed nights you shall naturally remain an honoured guest in this house, and our friendship will be unaltered by the… unbalance of the association under discussion. There is, however, an exception to this, one small demand I must make of you, counsellor.’

His words floated ominously between us, and I sucked in my breath.

‘What demand?’ I was certain it would not be to my liking.

‘I shall command your pleasure between our meetings.’

‘No, Mairon, surely you cannot…’ I began to cry my protest but he raised his hand imperiously.

‘I can and I shall,’ he insisted sternly. ‘This month, if we are to proceed with our arrangement, you are forbidden from relief during the seven days prior to our meeting. What will it be?’

I groaned in defeat, but promptly extended my hands to him before rational thought could sway me, and we clasped each other’s arms to seal our contract. His smile was gleeful, mine was weak. I had an erection, hard as rock, to deal with while I still could.

 

~o~

 

Thus our regular sessions began, and I soon verified with my own flesh Mairon’s warning about how painful the task would be. He wanted to shape me into the perfect example of graceful submissiveness and, though I genuinely wished to please him, I seemed to lack the required disposition. But this apparent flaw did not deter Mairon, who ruthlessly persevered to crush my rebellious streak, until he eventually succeeded.

He mandated strict rules to be obeyed at all times in the way I presented myself, moved, behaved and served him. Wilful disobedience always earned me major unpleasantness, and Mairon rarely forgave my errors, however trivial. His chastisements were cruel and inventive, fitting to my transgression and meant to etch every lesson indelibly into my mind.

Our next meeting had gone wrong from the beginning. After he manacled my wrists behind my back, he struck my shoulders with a riding crop because I took too long to kneel. Without thinking, I shouted that he could go and drown himself in Orco’s piss. Mairon remained remarkably calm as these words echoed in his underground chamber, but I feared for my hröa when he grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and bent down to whisper in my ear, the sharp tip of curved knife pressed under my chin. 

‘From this day, my fractious slave, you will appreciate the sweetness of silence. No words must ever leave your lips unless I bid you speak. And never, ever, will you insult your Master,’ he hissed. ‘Understood?’

He yanked my hair, pulling my head further back. I struggled to keep my balance. ‘Yes, Master!’ I cried. He withdrew the knife, released me, and stood up.

From my kneeling position, I watched him warily as he walked towards a table and picked up an orange from a basket on a table against the wall. With the curved blade, he unhurriedly scraped a pattern of swirling white lines on the rind; then he cut more deeply into the fruit in three places until the juice dripped down his fingers.

‘Open your mouth,’ he commanded, grasping the collar. I shrank in apprehension, but obeyed. He pushed the orange deep into my mouth, stretching my jaws awkwardly. The pressure squeezed more juice out of the fruit onto my tongue. At once, I gagged and twisted my head wildly while attempting to spit out the orange, but it was far too large, and Mairon ruthlessly rammed it back in, even more deeply.

The apparently delicious orange was bitter, its taste suffocatingly foul. Tears came to my eyes as the juice dripped into my throat and I struggled to fight my retching. The exposed pith was, incredibly, even more revolting. Only a long while later did I begin to breathe normally over the hateful gag.

‘You have a choice, thrall,’ Mairon continued. An evil smirk on his lips met my impotent glare. ‘You shall savour my gift willingly or I will force you to endure a larger one for longer. What shall it be?’

I nodded my compliance, and he released my head. The second part of my punishment, two dozen lashes, made matters worse, as every stinging blow made me bite down on the loathsome fruit. I had to control my panic every time I began to choke, almost unable to breathe.

By the end of that night, I had sworn to myself never to indulge in pointless and fleeting defiance, ever again. 

I could not hide from Mairon for long that I would rather endure fear and pain than humiliation and bonds, and he fully exploited this discovery to his advantage. Mairon employed his considerable ingenuity and his phenomenal powers to craft no end of wicked schemes and devices to deny my freedom, my pleasure or both, to spur my misery and shame, and thus assert his alluring mastery. Every time he made me teeter over an edge I did not know existed.

Our meetings grew steadily in intensity and length as the months and the years went by, and not once did I feel the fearful anticipation lessen when I surrendered myself to Mairon’s mercy. He had not lied when he claimed to have been gentle during that initial night of terror and wonder, possibly to seduce me without scaring me to death, as he often did afterwards.  Worse still, my pleasure was never guaranteed, and several awful nights ended in outraged frustration when he relentlessly spurred my need for many hours only to deny my release at the end as punishment for my failings.

Despite all, I accepted all his demands. He shocked me, hurt me and yet, he could also be incredibly tender when the moment demanded it. His caress, even when entwined with pain, was a precious gift, as were his kisses and other endearments with which he encouraged my efforts to please him. True praise was rare, but whenever he granted it, I burst with pride.

I craved his company; his touch, gentle or cruel; the inexplicable thrill of his dominance and, above all, the unchained ecstasy beyond my hröa when we reached our peak together, which always outweighed the trials he put me through. Every time he would take me in his arms when we finished, kiss me as if I were the most precious being in Eä, and the spark of pride in his eyes would make my pain melt away in joy. I would fall asleep from exhaustion, knowing that a smile was painted on my face, and I would wake up to see him by my bed to ease my hurts.

As he had promised, outside these sessions he kept regarding me as a trusted friend and companion, in all ways his equal, and we were both greatly honoured in Kiinlúum for our respective roles in this realm of Men. Never had I imagined that my banishment would lead me to such contentment at the side of my former foe, the loathed disciple of Melkor.

And yet, while Mairon seemed perfectly satisfied with our arrangement, I slowly began to long for more. I yearned for pleasure not spurred by pain; I wished to caress him without restraint or rules, as a lover, not as his willing slave.

My desire for him swelled with every season that passed. Sometimes, when we were alone, I would daringly lean close to touch him, and even kiss him to invite more. Though he never pushed me away and sometimes he even returned a sign of affection, it was painfully clear that he was not keen to follow that path. He never started any intimacy outside the bittersweet nights in which I placed myself under his dominance.

Mairon’s restraint towards me was maddening, because his lust was insatiable elsewhere. At least two nights a week he welcomed Chakmóol, but there was also a regular stream of other assorted companions knocking at his door, both male and female, including several of his household servants.

When I asked him about these pursuits the morning after a particularly riotous orgy that had echoed all through the house, he waved his hand lightly in dismissal.

‘Jealous, Eönwë?’ he asked, with a spark of mockery in his eyes.

‘Maybe,’ I muttered reluctantly.

‘They are pretty and keen, these mortal Children, eager to lavish their attentions on someone who they believe appreciates them,’ he said condescendingly. ‘I enjoy their enthusiasm, their vitality, and their unsubtle flattery. In return I teach them the arts of gentle pleasure.’

‘Gentle? You?’

‘I can be,’ he laughed, ‘and you well know it. These same hands that work the forge can hold a butterfly… or a certain creature that awakes and weeps on the night of the new moon.’

I felt my blood stir.

‘Curse you, Mairon,’ I groaned. He smiled mischievously.

‘My nights with the Atani are trivial and forgettable, friend, a simple pastime of no consequence.’

I was glad he had taken pity on me instead of spurring me further into a need I was forbidden to address, but I was dismayed by the carelessness with which he spoke of his other dalliances.

‘What of me, Mairon? Am I yet another piece in your collection? A further token of the triumph of your undefeated powers of seduction?’ I cried.

‘You are the one who sates my hunger. You and Chakmóol, to a lesser degree, because he can never be my match, while you certainly are.’

‘A morsel? A match?’ I was angry and disappointed. ‘Is that the nature of your regard?’

He looked at me strangely.

‘What did you expect from one such as me, Eönwë? Undying love?’ He nearly spat this last word.

‘You name it as if it were an abomination,’ I retorted harshly.

‘Love is a dangerous emotion, as well as fickle and selfish. While it lasts it makes us blind and vulnerable. And when it fades, we are left cold and broken. Other cravings are easier to gauge and satisfy: lust, ambition, fear of loneliness. Many mistake them for love, but I will not commit the same error twice, nor deceive another with such pretence.’

‘You use me for your pleasure,’ I snarled, hands clenched at my sides to control my rage.

‘As you do,’ he replied coldly. ‘If our association disgusts you, friend, nothing stops you from leaving at any time.’ He rose, ending the conversation.

Mairon had not mentioned his name, but I hated Moringotto even more for having shattered my friend’s willingness to love again.

I did not leave. How could I?

 

~o~

 

I was not truly surprised the night that I opened the door to Mairon’s underground chambers to find him engaged in lively conversation with the ahaw. Chakmóol was attired in simple hunting gear, but decked with the green feathers that marked his kingship. I bowed, but he did not even turn his eyes in my direction.

Mairon only paused for a few moments to signal me to strip and kneel by his side. Uncertain, I hesitated, and cast at him a glance of questioning defiance. Faster than lightning, he rose from his seat and slapped me harshly.

‘Obey me at once!’ he hissed.

Shocked, I swallowed my rage and bit down the protest that nearly left my lips, murmuring instead the required acknowledgment before removing my clothes hastily.

He fastened the collar around my neck and I knelt at his feet, arms raised outwards and hands laced behind my neck. I absently listened to their animated chatting about building projects, foreign politics and horses, while the hours trickled by and my discomfort turned to pain. They ate, they drank, and my only duty was to remain immobile and, from time to time, to promptly obey trivial orders to serve food, fetch cooled wine, pick up a dropped napkin or clear the table, gaining brief periods of relief from cramp.

Often, I felt the admiring and partly envious gaze of the king upon me, while I received no touch or word of encouragement from Mairon.

At last he addressed me.

‘Do you have anything to say to me that I should know, thrall?’ he enquired, his voce deadly soft, a gleam of menace in his eyes.

I could have lied, but whatever punishment I was about to face would be made infinitely worse by any attempt at deceit.

‘Forgive me, Master,’ I answered, bending to touch the stone floor with my brow.

He nudged my neck with his foot, not even deigning himself to stroke me. His displeasure and the humiliation of sensing Chakmóol’s eyes piercing me as I abased myself, almost made me sob. I pressed my face harder to the floor to steady myself.

‘What did you do, that you seek my forgiveness?’ he questioned sternly. ‘Look me in the eye.’

I raised my head to comply, saw Chakmóol’s gleeful smirk through my eyelashes and I shook with chagrin at his presence. I quickly returned my attention to Mairon before he noticed my lapse.

‘I disobeyed you, Master.’ I wavered for a moment before confessing my crime. ‘Eleven days ago, I succumbed to desire, stroked my need and gave myself pleasurable release without your leave.’

At the end of our previous encounter, Mairon had demanded for the first time that I remained wanting and unsatisfied during the whole span of time between our sessions. Offering excuses for my behaviour had ever been futile in the past, so I gave none. Instead, I braced myself for the sentence that would follow.

‘Perhaps you will obey our king more readily than me?’ he queried sharply. ‘Tonight, slave, after you have borne the cane for as long as I deem fit, you will serve the ahaw as you would serve me. In any way he demands.’ I swayed slightly, and he grabbed a painful fistful of my hair to keep me still. ‘Only if you perform to his satisfaction will you earn my forgiveness. Also, to teach you the error of your wanton ways, you will wear this little reminder.’

From his other hand dangled a contraption made of shiny rings that jingled as he pressed them to my lips. I blanched with fearful dismay but nevertheless kissed them as required.

‘Stand!’ he snarled.

When I did, he locked my cock and testicles in the fiendish metal cage. I had worn that cruel device before and knew I had no hope of removing it against Mairon’s will. Like a living thing, it moulded itself snugly to my skin, without locks that could be picked or straps that could be cut, and it had even seemed to shrink tighter the only time I surreptitiously attempted to slip it off.

‘Move into position,’ he ordered.

With Chakmóol in the room, I felt betrayed. A boundary of some sort had been crossed, even if I ignored precisely why. I looked at Mairon pleadingly but he did not relent. Instead, he shoved me roughly against the wall.

I placed my hands at the required height and spread my legs apart. He would not grant me the benefit of chains this time, which meant my punishment would be harsh indeed, compounded every time I moved without permission. By the time he picked up the cane and ran its tip lightly in a sinuous line from neck to waist, I was already panting with dread and the first stirrings of desire.

He had said I was free to leave. Was I? Words to beg for mercy were about to leave my lips when his hand rested briefly on my shoulder and he squeezed hard. This was his usual signal to urge me to endure and make him proud, the first reassurance I had received that night. Relieved, I vowed I would regain his favour; pushing my hands into the wall until my palms and fingertips hurt, I willed myself to bear the discipline without moving, whatever the pain.

The cane swished loudly, many times; my determination was tested beyond its limits, almost shattered to pieces. Half-way through, my elbows fell against the wall and I hung my head between my arms in defeat, though it was not the hardest beating I had ever received at his hands. Far worse than the biting blows was the discomfort that swiftly spiralled into crushing agony when the arousal that customarily awoke with any of Mairon’s touches, even the harshest, began to swell into the rings.

When he stopped, breathing hard, I crumpled to my knees and rested my head on the wall, feeling the sweat and tears pour out of me. But I was given no respite.

‘What do you think of my new colt, Your Highness?’ asked Mairon casually, placing his possessive hand over my head. Immediately, I scrambled to adopt the formal kneeling posture he expected. ‘Come and judge this beauty.’

Chakmóol was renowned for the fine horses he bred and trained himself. He took my jaw in his hand and moved my head side to side, pretending to study my features as if I were one of his yearlings. Outraged, I squeezed my fingers tighter against my nape until they hurt. When he pushed his thumb against the corner of my mouth to force me to open it, I was direly tempted to bite him. Mairon’s keen eyes read my intent, and his slight frown of displeasure gave me a silent warning.

Chakmóol tugged at my collar to make me stand, and ran firm fingers down my back to my knees, making me flinch every time they grazed my welts during his thorough exploration. I needed all my will power to remain still under his ungentle and unwelcome touch.

‘Good bones. Long and light. Built to race the wind, I would say,’ opined the ahaw as he fingered my aching shoulders and raised arms. Mairon snickered. ‘But will it be tamed?’ the king continued. ‘Look at the proud fire in its eyes!’

‘It knows its master, but sadly lacks training,’ answered Mairon with a sigh of resignation. ‘I would welcome your expert advice as to the best way to handle its instruction.’

I almost suffocated at the shame of having a steel bit pushed between my teeth, a leather bridle strapped over my head and my hands chained to the ends of a wooden yoke that weighed my shoulders down. I was pierced by a thick staff ending in a generous clump of horse hair, to act as a tail. My blood roared when, in this guise, I was made to learn gaits and transitions under the ahaw’s exacting guidance, invariably failing to display the grace and agility he demanded.

‘The trot is slacking,’ appraised Mairon. I risked a furtive glare in his direction. He was leisurely sitting with a glass of wine in his hand, and he shook his head slowly, as if disappointed with my efforts.

Chakmóol would not speak his commands to raise my knees higher, bend my neck lower, or adjust the length of my stride; he would merely point my deficiencies with the sting of his long whip over the relevant part of my body. My simmering fury was tamed into obedience by the slightest flick of his wrist. The staff built up my desire, while the rings turned it to pure torture and Mairon kept throwing the odd commentary on my flaws, adding insult to injury. More than once I almost bolted, like the horse I was forced to play in their despicable game.

A long time later, I was allowed to kneel, panting and weak from exhaustion. The loathsome harness was removed, my jaw at last freed from the pressure of the bit.

‘You will find it has a most talented mouth, as soft as silk,’ invited Mairon.

Chakmóol stood tall over me, and I balked violently at the sight of his swollen shaft being bared next to my face. My refusal delayed the inevitable, but only briefly; the fake tail was removed and I rendered the service that was required, with Mairon impaling me from behind to enforce my compliance.

Every thrust of his hips plunged me brutally into the loathed groin of the king, to the point of gagging, and caused a most unwelcome flare of desire, immediately slain by the excruciating pain of my trapped cock.

‘It is a sweet ride, once tamed,’ laughed Mairon. I wept with humiliation.

I do not know how long this torment lasted but eventually, mercifully, he reached completion and slumped over me in his bliss, all the more distressing because he had chosen to withhold it from me.

Chakmóol followed at once. My tears of powerless rage mixed with the warm, sticky mess he spurted over my cheeks and lips. Then he smoothed his clothes, briefly thanked Mairon for his hospitality, congratulated him on the quality of his new stable stock and left.

Once we were alone, Mairon petted me, cleaned me tenderly, and sat me on his lap to take me in his arms, while he scattered soft kisses over my face, neck and shoulders. He had not given me leave to move or speak, so I seethed in silence instead, glad to receive some scraps of affection while simultaneously conjuring impossible dreams of terrible retribution. I sobbed like a child, unable to block away the waves of pain that his embrace awoke when it grazed my back, while doing my utmost to quell any stirrings of desire. I wished to scream at him for demeaning me so abjectly in front of the man I served outside his walls.

‘You are forgiven, my wild stallion, my beautiful Maia slave,’ he rewarded me at last in a voice that caressed my ears like silk. ‘You were magnificent, a wonderful sight to behold. All that wrath, obediently bound for my pleasure. No one can match your strength, your grace, your desire to please. Have I ever told you how much you mean to me?’

I felt his renewed hardness throbbing under my leg. He took my lips into a probing, demanding kiss, raked his fingers over my upper arms, and gripped them with bruising strength until I moaned in his mouth. Again I sobbed when my cock responded, only to be pinched by the ruthless rings.

And yet, his endearing praises soothed me and filled me with warmth, gave me a new reason to keep enduring his trials. They were the most fervent declaration of his regard that I had ever heard from his lips.

Before he could punish my disobedience, before I could change my mind, I slipped from his lap onto my knees on the floor between his legs and took his cock in my mouth.

‘Good, oh, so very good!’ he cried out. ‘Ai, my proud colt, my beauty!’ He twisted his fingers in my hair and I slowly sucked him to orgasm. His pleasure was my torment.

When it was over, he removed all the restraints, walked with me to my chambers and most gingerly rubbed ointment over my back, buttocks and thighs. I soon fell asleep with his hands still tending to my hurts, the potent scent of healing herbs pervading the air and my groin throbbing with pitiful bursts of denied desire.

On our following night together, he demanded no less, but rewarded me most generously.

From then onwards, the ahaw would occasionally join us at Mairon’s command in our new moon meetings; sometimes to stand over me again or, more often, as my fellow slave. Both of us vied for Mairon’s praise, falling into a strange relationship that swayed between extremes of sympathetic rivalry and ferocious jealousy, almost hatred, as dictated by the changing tune played by our master. If Chakmóol held a grudge against me as a result, it was well disguised, because in court he remained as polite and receptive to my counsel as ever.